Written for Arithmancy Assignment 8 in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) and the Hogwarts Casino 2014 Challenge/Competition on HPFC.

Disclaimer: Do we still have to do this? Isn't fanfiction established as non-profit stories using characters and settings that are clearly not ours?

Enjoy!

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to even the least organized mind, death is but the next time adventure." Dumbledore smiled cheekily.

And at that moment, Harry Potter disappeared.

The room looked very dream-like, with warm Gryffindor colors and a homely feel. Maybe it is a dream, Harry thought. Seems about right.

Where was he? He turned around, and nearly had a heart attack. What the - ?!

Not more than two meters away from him stood a family of three, a short distance away from a fireplace. A father with messy black hair and glasses, grinning widely and creating wisps of colored smoke twirl up from the end of his wand. A mother with long, dark red hair and brilliant emerald eyes, laughing in delight. And between them, a small child, with the same messy black hair as his father and his mother's green eyes, eagerly reaching for the rising wisps of smoke.

Harry stood there, completely shocked. There was no doubt about who they were. It was his father, and his mother, and himself as a baby. But why was he here? How did he even get here?

Did I die? Harry asked himself, thinking back to Dumbledore's words. "Death is but the next time adventure." Going back in time would explain this, seeing as it's the magical world. Anything could be possible. But still…

Harry tentatively stepped forward. "Excuse me?" he called out to the family. "Er, hello? This might be a little surprising, but I'm your son, only from the future…"

The family ignored him.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said, louder this time. "I'm your son, from the future."

The family remained oblivious.

Finally fed up with everyone ignoring him, Harry stepped forward to tap the father's – his father's – shoulder. But before he could, the child turned in his direction.

Green eyes pierced his own. This baby version of him knew he was there. He just knew, from the look in the baby's eyes.

Without saying a word, baby Harry began crawling towards him. Baby Harry's mother and father – MY mother and father, too, Harry reminded himself – turned around to follow the baby's movements, but they clearly didn't see Harry, or they would have been startled.

Harry waited until the baby had reached up to him and touched his robes. He started; he'd been wearing some sort of hospital gown before, while he was speaking with Dumbledore. How strange.

He bent down to baby Harry's height, and the baby grinned, showing off his tiny, still-growing teeth. Baby Harry grabbed his hands, and Harry let him, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He glanced up to see his parents staring at the space where he was standing, completely confounded.

Lily an' James, Hagrid had said, Harry remembered. It was all coming back to him. Lily and James.

For a moment, Harry desperately wished that his parents could see him. They were so close, yet so far. He yearned to touch them, to be able to speak to them, to simply let them see him. Who he'd become. Were they proud of him? He'd never know.

Then baby Harry tugged at his robes, pulling Harry from his thoughts. The baby stared at him, silently questioning him.

"What is it?" Harry whispered, quietly. He wasn't even sure that the baby would hear him, but it was worth a try.

The baby's eyes widened in delight, and he began to giggle. Harry hoped that meant he'd heard him, even if it didn't help his situation much.

At that moment, Harry shot to his feet. He needed to get back to Hogwarts! Dumbledore was no doubt concerned about where he was, and what would Hermione and Ron think? He'd probably been gone for longer than he'd thought, how would he explain where he'd been? Oh, yeah, I was just visiting my dead parents, who happen to be happy and healthy and with their child, who happens to be the baby version of me. We all had a splendid time, thank you. Something told him that didn't sound like it was coming out of a sane person's mouth.

If he could even get back. With no one being able to see him except for his baby self, he couldn't communicate his situation until baby Harry was old enough to pass the message on to his parents. And what would he do then? Could his parents help him? There were too many questions, and not enough answers.

All of a sudden, baby Harry began crying. Harry felt guilty; he'd jumped to his feet and startled him.

He began to kneel down and comfort the child, but his parents shot to their feet and grabbed their wands, aiming directly at him.

"Step away from our son, now," his father commanded. Harry got the feeling he was holding back from sending a spell towards him, just barely. Something was stopping him.

"We won't hesitate to fight you," his mother added. She held her wand firmly, but a slight tremor of her hand indicated her concealed fright.

Harry stepped back nervously, but baby Harry began crying harder, crawling towards him again.

"Stay right where you are," Harry's mother said commandingly. Harry froze in his spot. A shield formed directly in front of baby Harry, separating him from Harry. Baby Harry tried to pass through, to no avail. He began to bawl.

His mother looked alarmed, and she hurried forward to retrieve her son, keeping her wand pointed at Harry.

She picked baby Harry up and carried him to safety, not daring to turn her back on Harry. The action caused a deep ache somewhere inside Harry, even though he knew it was ridiculous. She doesn't know it's you, he reminded himself. But still, deep inside his head, he couldn't help but think, Yeah, but would she believe you even if she knew who you were?

Harry's father opened his mouth, but was cut off when the door fell to the floor with a loud bang. Harry swiveled to the doorway, dread filling his stomach.

In the doorway stood a man with reddish eyes and a thin face. He stepped inside, robes swishing at his feet. His eyes were trained on baby Harry.

Harry's forehead was on fire. He clutched his forehead and moaned, sinking to the floor. Through the haze of pain, he realized one thing.

Voldemort.

The only person who'd caused pain in his scar. It had to be.

Which meant today was…

As soon as Harry began this thought, Voldemort looked up, straight at him. The man's eyes widened and his face paled the slightest bit, before he quickly adopted an emotionless gaze.

"It seems there is one more person I must kill tonight," Voldemort said.

I'm still debating whether or not to continue this, so let me know if you think I should!

~Lumosify