Full Summery:

What if, on the night of Halloween, James survived? But what if, he had been knocked unconscious and didn't wake up until Harry was gone? What if Sirius was a little late, and missed Hagrid? And what if Dumbledore, only wanting to protect Harry, had told James, Sirius and Remus that Harry had perished with his mother? But now, Harry Potter has returned to the Wizarding World. How will his first year go, with his father, godfather, and honorary uncle breathing down his neck? Will he, Ron and Hermione still have to save the Sorcerer's Stone? And what if the trio had powers even Dumbledore didn't know existed? Well, if you like James/Sirius/Remus and Harry Bonding, slightly overprotective Marauder Guardians, Golden Trio Friendship, Rebellious Trio, Powerful Trio, a little, tiny bit of Dark Trio, Verbally Abusive Dursleys and canon pairings, your welcome to stay as long as you like.

Book One:

Monophobia

Prolouge

His head pounded against his skull, his arms and legs felt stiff and soar. He didn't want to open his eyes. He just wanted to fall back into blissful, painless sleep.

But James Potter was a stubborn man. Slowly, he pried his hazel eyes open and was met by blurs.

After a moment, he realized he didn't have his glasses on. James, very slowly, began moving his soar arms around, looking for them. He found them lying besides his head, one of the lenses cracked, and put them on.

He was in his house. But at the same time, it wasn't his house. It was unreconisable. The floor, walls and ceiling were charred and blackened, things lie shattered everywhere, the stairscase was half destroyed.

And then it all came rushing back.

With a wirl of panic, he scrambled to his feet (with much difficulty, I may add) and ran up the stairs shouting, "Lily!"

James burst into the nursery. It was the worst. Half the roof was gone. And there, flaming red hair covering her face, was Lily.

He just stood there. He just stood there and stared, his brain not registering what he was seeing. And then, very slowly, he stumbled into the room and dropped to his knee's by Lily's head, trembling from head to toe, tears shamlessly rolling down his cheeks.

James gathered his wife up in his arms, and sobbed his heart out.

"No... I will not kill you." Voldemorts voice rang in his ears, and he could just see the the cruel, evil smirk behind his closed eyelids, "I want you to suffer. No, no... I will keep you alive, and you will grieve over your dead wife and son until you break. Stupefy!"

He didn't know how long he sat there, crying. But suddenly, there was a pounding of feet and a paniced, desperate shout, "Prongs! James, where are you?!"

Sirius came bounding up the stairs, his blue eyes wide and frantic, but he stopped in the doorway, staring at the seane before him.

"James." he breathed, before falling to his knees next to his brother in all but blood and pulled him into a hug, where he began to cry into his shoulder, still clunging to Lily's cold body.

Tears poured down Sirius's own cheeks, though his were silent.

"W-Why?" James said, his voice hoarse with sobs, "W-Why w-would P-P-Peter do this?"

Sirius shook his head, rubbing circles onto his friends back. He wondered the same thing. And Sirius knew that Peter, his ex-friend, was gonna pay. One way or another, that rat was going to pay for the life of bueatiful, talented Lily, and his sweet, fantastic godson, Harry.

Harry.

"Where's Harry?" Sirius said, his breath catching in his throat. No, not Harry. Anything but Harry.

James gave a strangled gasp, pulled away from Sirius, gentley set Lily's body down, and began searching through the rubble, looking for his son.

Sirius joined in too, the two men searching every corner, crook and place in the house. But their efforts were fruitless.

"Come on, James." Sirius said, after half an hour of searching. "Let's get you to Hogwarts."

But James shook his head, tearing through another pile of rubble, his hands bleeding, but he ignored.

Sirius sighed, looked around, before grabbing a piece of wood. "Portus." he muttered. And right when he was about to force it into James's hand, he spotted a toy stag, lying descarded in Harry's ruined crib. Sirius grabbed it, then James's arm, before forcing the portkey into his hand.

There was the familiar jerk behind their navels and they were speeding away in a whirl of color and sound.

Dumbledore sat back in his seat with a sigh, rubbing his temples.

James and Sirius had gone to the Hospital Wing for the night, tired, sore, and grieving. He had wanted to tell them Harry was alive, he really did, but it was for the boy's own saftey. Under his mothers protection, he was safer than anywhere else.

Dumbledore sighed. Aw, well. At least, they will meet again in ten years.

It was for the best, even if Dumbledore himself didn't like it.

It was all for the best.

Chapter One:

Meet Freak

Monophobia- Fear of solitude or being alone.

He sighed, closing the book with a muffled snap. He slid the book under his cot and began staring at the roof of his cupboard, watching a spider walking across the wall.

His name was Freak. Or Boy. At least, that's what his relatives called him. He gussed that his first name was Freak, like how his cousins first name was Dudley, and his surname was Boy, like how Dudley's surname was Dursley.

Soon, he expected, he was going to be forced out by his Aunts shirll voice, demanding him to make Dudley's breakfast. But he would much rather have stayed here. At least then, he wouldn't have to face his relatives insults and taunts.

And sure enough, he heard footsteps making their way down the stairs, showering him in a cloud of dust, and stopping outside his cupboard.

Aunt Petunia knocked loudly on the door and screeched, "Up! Get up! I want you to look after the bacon! I want everything to be perfect for Dudleys birthday!"

He groaned.

"What did you say?" his Aunt snapped.

"Nothing, nothing." He said, getting out of bed.

Dudley's birthday. How could he forget?

The incident with the snake had cost Freak his longest punishment ever.

He had been locked in his cupboard far into the summer holidays, with barely any food.

But the worse was still to come.

Letter after letter. All in green ink. All adressed to a mysterious boy named Harry Potter.

And, strangley, thought Freak as he sat in his cupboard that night, it was adressed to his cupboard under the stairs.

But his name was Freak. So, who on earth was Harry Potter?

The giant kept calling him Harry.

Why? He didn't know.

He didn't try to correct the kind giant.

He had learned not to do so long ago.

But he knew that he was going to have to tell him he was not Harry Potter. And that he was just Freak the Freak. The Freaky Boy.

But as he snuggled onto the couch, under the giants giant coat, he had know idea that the Headmaster of the school Hagrid, the giant, had been telling him about, was getting hexed by a very, very angry stag, dog and wolf.

Inspired by What If? by krazi little aus.

EDITED! Though not a lot.