Somewhere, deep down, Harry knew that it would always come to this; he stared at Tom across from him, his breath hissing out from his mouth like smoke in the cool air. All around him his allies fought his enemies, the once green grass of the Hogwarts grounds turning red with splattered blood. After this day he would die, preferably bringing down Tom with him. His parents had left him first, then Cedric, then his godfather, Sirius Black had fallen before his eyes and he had never seen him again, except when he was haunted in his dreams. His mentor, Albus left next. His seventh year since entering the wizarding world had left even more pain; it was, after all, a powerful number in the magical world. First Hagrid had died, and Harry's first friend in the wizard's community, first friend ever, stared blankly off into space as the blood oozed from the many wounds it took to take him down. Ron and Hermione had also died, in each other's arms, finally admitting their love for one another, a little too late. And then Ginny, when she left it hurt the most. His fiancée after they got back together during the summer, she left him when he needed her the most, throwing the diamond studded ring towards the muddy ground beneath him. It had been raining the day she walked away. Despite the fact that they had all left him, his love for them was never stronger, and for them he would finish his task.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry thought, blocking his mind from that of Voldemort's, and sent the green beam of ghoulish light that had killed so many before towards the Darkest Wizard of all time. Instead of hate he pushed all his love into that one shot, all his hope for a better world. There was no way Tom could dodge it or stop it as it fanned out into a wide arc, sparkling spectacularly as it zoomed through the air. The curse Tom had been muttering became strangled with a cry of pain and fury as he was hit, still a multi colored beam shot from the tip of the Bastard's wand and hit Harry full in the chest. Before he disappeared, however, he took in with grim satisfaction that Voldemort was, at long last, gone. After countless years of terror Harry James Potter became the first person to defeat Mister Riddle…again.

Lord Voldemort was dead, finally, but where was Harry?

Harry groaned and slowly woke up. He felt no pain, which was strange considering how beaten up he had been when he had finished off his long lived foe. Stranger still, however, was the form lying across him, at the top of which was a messy fan of carroty hair. Ginny, he thought sleepily. She had come back. Maybe there was something worth living for after all. But, as he woke up further, he noticed that there was definitely something Un-Ginny about the person sleeping on his chest, simply because there was no way he'd end up in a strange room after collapsing and would be lucky enough to have the love of his life draped across him. He slipped out from under her, trying to be subtle in his movements but still waking her in the process.

"Honey, it's early, get back in bed," the woman muttered, looking at Harry with emerald green eyes.

"I-I, um, I just need to use the bathroom," Harry managed to stutter out, thoroughly confused, must be some after effects of the curse, yup, just had a blow to the head a bit to hard, a bit of cold water will clear that off. He found himself thinking as he grabbed his wand which he noticed wasn't really his and stumbled over to the closest door, which happened to be a closet, "Hey, wrong room, look at that," he said with a nervous chuckle, before heading into the door to his left, finding the much sought after loo. He went over to the sink, ran the faucet and splashed cold water on his face.

The light switch flicked on, "Honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, right as rain," Harry muttered to the woman, while pinching himself in an attempt to wake himself up.

"Here, you might need these," she pushed bulky, circle-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Everything swam into focus and Harry sorely wanted to take them back off. Standing in front of him, clad in only a quiditch t-shirt that looked as if it belonged to a James Potter, because Lily Potter stared back at him in concern. Perhaps more shocking than this, however, was his own reflection. No lightening bolt scar, no green eyes, no bun mark on his chin from a spot of trouble he ran into in diagon alley. No, the mirror above the sink clearly showed James Potter. Harry felt like he was going to puke. It's the stress; maybe the whole having the world on your shoulder thing gets to you after awhile?

"Baby, you're scaring me, what's wrong?" Lily asked again.

Maybe I should hug her; I mean she is my mum, who knows when I'll get this chance again, I mean I could wake up from this delusion any second now. Or maybe I should just cough up my dinner. Harry was mercifully saved from having to do something however, (which was probably a good thing because he was becoming more and more aware that he was only clad in boxers) by a quiet wail from the other room.

"That's Harry, James, come on, I can use some help; you know he's a handful," Lily, shooting another worried glance over her shoulder, looked like she wanted to figure out what was wrong more than changing a poopy diaper, but a mother's instincts took over. She led Harry out by his hand.

Harry looked around the nursery with awe. The red walls with gold trim and quiditch posters all seemed vaguely familiar. The tune Lily began to sing hit a chord in his memory too, as did the sound that he heard next. A loud crash echoed from downstairs, followed by cruel laugher.

"James," Lilly's green eyes, so much like his were supposed to be, were filled to the brim with fear, as she looked back at him in surprise "It's him, he found us, what do we do?"

Harry wasn't even aware of his actions anymore; he heard the whole scene in his head, the words he hears when he gets too close to dementors. He unconsciously gripped his wand a bit tighter and began to go down the stairs. Before him was Lord Voldemort, apparently back from the dead and as ready to kill his parents in this weird dream as he had been sixteen years ago. Not this time, even if it is a dream, it's sure as Hell going to have a happy ending.

Three death eater scum had followed their precious master into Godric's Hollow. They were out cold within the first few minutes that Harry had began to trade curses with dear old Tommie. Sweat plastered his messy hair to his scar-less forehead, his glasses had broken and fallen but he could still make out the blob that was his enemy, and the colored flairs he kept shooting at him. "You're not taking everything away from me this time TOM!" Harry shouted and sent pure love out through the tip of his wand. Not even bothering to see if his spell hit home, Harry collapsed from exhaustion.

Thus, Harry James Potter, presently masquerading as his father, James, became the first wizard to defeat the darkest wizard in ages for the third time.