Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine!

A/N: This is a time travel story, even if it doesn't seem that way yet. For a couple chapters it'll be about the character's lives in their own time, and then the time traveling will begin! Oh yeah I can't stand Lily/Harry/James triangles, so don't expect one. Call me crazy, but I find incest to be rather disturbing so...same goes with George/Fred flashbacks and any Marauder friendships. They're brothers. And best friends. Line stops there.

-AS

The Burrow

One Week after the Battle of Hogwarts, 1997

Harry Potter was not having a peaceful sleep.

Lately, it just wasn't his forte. He had been plagued with nightmares all week, ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. Celebrations had rang throughout the wizarding a week now, and showed no signs of stopping. As they had dared to do 16 years before, witches and wizards ran freely into the muggle world, fully clothed in robes and hats, but no one really cared. Kingsley Shacklebolt was too excited himself to let the Ministry get involved in restraining these wizards.

Harry had been right there with them, cheering and laughing. Despite the heavy casualties of the day, he had never had a better nights sleep upon the return to the Burrow. Yet a night later, he was back to the same old thing. It had started one night with a dream of Fred staring blankly at him, dead on the floor with Ron and Percy shaking him violently. Then it had been Remus and Tonks, sprawled among the dead in the Great Hall. Then, it had been Professor Snape's final words.

Each night got worse, but Harry didn't dare tell anyone. The Weasley's were kind enough to adopt him in, and it didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon. The last thing he needed was to talk about Fred when George had been trying so hard to plaster a smile on his face. Fred's funeral was later on that day, and George was acting sadly enough already. He had spent the week sitting in the middle of the Burrow's makeshift Quidditch field, staring into the sky for hours. He had been wearing the same sweater for a week, an ugly blue one with an "F" sewn into the front. He would come in for dinner, assure everyone that he was fine, sit, eat, stare, and go back outside. He was trying hard to act like an upbeat Weasley twin throughout this ordeal, but it was obvious he wasn't functioning properly without Fred right next to him.

Harry kicked and thrashed, seeing a memory that was not fresh to him. It was a memory he could never seem to get rid of. He saw a green light, and heard a woman's scream, drowned by and Unforgivable curse, and the hard thump of a body to the floor.

He awoke with a start, sweat pouring down his back. He checked the clock. 3:17 am. Way too early to be awake, but it was better than the alternative.

He got up from his cot, and was careful to tiptoe past Ron's bed.

"Erm…erm-o-ninny."

Harry froze. He had to stifle a laugh, realizing Ron was muttering one of Hermione's nicknames in his sleep. If anyone called her "Herm-o-ninny" 3 years ago, Ron would've been furious, because only Viktor Krum mispronounced it so horribly.

He wandered out into the hallway, silently shutting the door behind him. Just as he was heading for the stairwell, he heard a sort of noise down the hall. Curious, he stumbled through the dark, listening closely. But that was hardly necessary. There was so much noise coming from Fred and George's old room that Harry's breath caught in his throat. The room that had previously been locked up with explosions and lights shining through the doors cracks had been silent all week.

Apparently someone had the same idea as him. Ginny's door, which had been right beside Fred and George's, opened slightly and revealed her small figure. Harry's heart fluttered a little.

"Harry? What are you doing up this late? Or early I should say."

"Oh, um…you see I was just…" he stumbled, not wanting to give the real reason, then turned to the the twin's door. "Just the same as you, woken up by all that racket…the explosions and what-not."

She nodded. "What do you expect it is?" She cut in front of him, apprehensively placing her hand on the doorknob.

"Ginny wait. Maybe-"

But it was too late. She had already opened it. They grasped hands, and stepped inside.

They had expected to find George attempting to blow himself. Instead they found him sitting calmly on Fred's bed, staring out the window at the sky. He turned to them expectantly.

"Oh…hello George," Harry began.

George nodded to Harry and Ginny.

An awkward silence settled in, as George stared, waiting to hear why Ginny and Harry had come into his room at 3:20 in the morning.

Harry shuffled his feet, his eyes trained one the floor. Ginny was doing the same.

George sighed. "Do you need something, or do you plan to just stare at me like a circus freak all day?"

The comment caught Harry and Ginny off guard. The remark was cold and clipped, and George's voice was hoarse.

Now that Harry thought about it, that was the first full sentence George had said all week.

Ginny flushed, carefully choosing her words, "Well we just heard noises, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean I know you've said you're fine, but this is going to be a hard day for all of us, and I just think…" she gripped Harry's hand tighter, "I just think Fred would want-"

She stopped talking abruptly, and flushed. Harry knew she had crossed a line, speaking for Fred. Especially in front of George.

But George surprised them. Instead of getting angry, he merely turned to the window again.

They stood in silence for a moment, until Harry decided it was time to leave George be. It was obvious he and Ginny were imagining things, George was perfectly alone. Not only that, but he seemed to want them gone rather badly. He was occupied with some object that was under his pillow, something that was…moving? No, Harry was seeing things. They watched him a few seconds more, then went back into the hall.

Harry could tell Ginny was embarrassed about what happened, and didn't want to talk about it. She pecked him on the cheek, then quietly slid back into her room.

Rubbing the warm spot on his cheek, Harry went downstairs. It was pitch black, but he navigated his way to the back door. He slipped outside quietly, and walked to the pitch. He came to a tiny shed, and drew out his wand, which he now carried everywhere.

"Alohamora," he muttered, and the shed's padlock was undone. He went inside, and turned on the light overhead. Really, it was nothing special. It was something Percy had built for Fred and George as a birthday present years and years ago when he had shared a muggle fascination, much like his father. Fred and George needed a place to store their fake Quidditch balls and fake Irish Quidditch robes sewn by Molly, and Percy had wanted to learn about muggle tools.

Harry looked around at the familiar things, and his heart hit a painful stroke. Six red and gold Quidditch robes were hanging on hooks in the wall, dusty from not being used.

The first was long and tattered, slightly faded. It said "Gryffindor Seeker" on the front right breast-pocket. Harry flipped it over to see "C. Weasley" and a number. The others were all facing the same way, and read "F. Weasley," "G. Weasley," "R. Weasley," "G. Weasley," and finally "H. Potter".

Harry longingly rubbed his thumb along the collar of his robes, identical to Charlie Weasley's. But he put them down, and made for the robe that said "F. Weasley". It was covered with grass and mud stains, and had a tear in one sleeve. Inside the breast-pocket that said "Gryffindor Beater" was a crinkled piece of parchment, and a miniscule jewelry box.

Harry held the blue box, wondering if he should open it.

Maybe I should give it to George…

He examined it, but decided not to open it. He wouldn't give it to George either, at least not today of all days.

No, he would wait a while. He slid the parchment and box into the pocket of his Quidditch robes, which he put on, heading towards the field with a broom.