Title: Rift of Time

Summary: Harry Potter finds the mystical Orb of Time, which will allow him to change one person's life for the better. When he chooses his tragic Godfather, Harry is transported to the time of the Marauders. Can he heal the scars of a werewolf and a teenager full of pain, and can Harry heal himself? Slash RL/SB! go on, give it a chance

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, even though I wish I did. Plus, sorry if I stole an idea from anyone, if I remember who I borrowed it from, I'll ask them, or bow to their genius. So far, I think it's all me (except for the Harry in the past part)

A/N: Wow, this is my first fanfiction story! I combined the first chapter I wrote with this one, because it was so embarrassingly brief. I'm really busy (I've had school for two weeks! I know!, fyi, don't take AP European History! Ever! too much work!) I don't know how often I can update, we'll see. Probably depends on how many reviews I get Please review and give me your honest opinion, it's my dream to become a writer, but I won't be any good if I don't improve. Plus, should I even bother to finish this? So criticize please!, just nicely. If you want to, I'd love it if you emailed me at crimsonmirage@hotmail.com. Also, if you had suggestions for my story, I'd love to hear them. PS: Thanks to everybody who reviewed before. Hugs and kisses!

Visions of one 12-year-old muggle girl who had refused to make a sound even while being raped then tortured by Death Eaters filled Harry Potter's mind. Rose-colored fingers were just beginning to illuminate the sky, and Harry was sitting up in his canopy bed at Hogwarts, heart hammering. Harry's visions of Voldemort occurred almost nightly now, making him unable and unwilling to sleep. Harry was body was suffering from the absence of rest, but the crippling regret wracking his mind was far worse.

Ever since Voldemort had risen again at the end of his previous year at Hogwarts, Harry had known the idyllic days of his Hogwarts years were dwindling. It wasn't long until another one of his classmates was killed. With Voldemort gaining control of the Dementors, Giants, Werewolves (minus one kindly ex-professor), Vampires and Veelas, the wizarding world seemed to Harry to be doomed. Harry wondered if he should throw his self in front of Voldemort, praying that when he died, Voldemort would vanish too.

Harry wanted to scream at everyone who could just go on living their lives as though there was nothing wrong. No one wanted to think about it, or they thought it was not their responsibility. They thought that it was no one's responsibility but the Boy Who Lived's. Yet they tiptoed around him. Professor Trelawney's predictions of death had been steadily increasing, Professor McGonagall looked as though she wanted to cry everytime that she looked at him, and he had even caught Snape looking at him once with something resembling pity. Still, Harry was kept in the dark about important events, things that could have an effect on whether or not he lived, all because people wanted to "protect" him. Since that fateful day at the end of last school year, even Dumbledore hadn't told him anything. But Harry wanted to know the danger he was in, from other sources than The Daily Prophet.

Voldemort had brought so much suffering. Sirius Harry's heart wrenched at the thought of Sirius. He spent a year living on rats just to be near Harry. Now, he was putting his life on the line yet again to alert "the old crowd." Sirius did so much for Harry, he felt that he would never be able to repay him.

Harry shook his head, exasperated. His dorm was stifling in the September heat, and fumbling for his glasses, Harry slowly got out of bed. He was going to go for a walk. Maybe he'd get lucky and Tom would show up, then they could just finish the whole bloody mess. With a swish of his invisibility cloak he was gone.

Harry wandered the corridors aimlessly; not sure what he was looking for. When he got there he'd know, he was sure. The glimmer of light at the end of a corridor Harry had never seen caught his eye.

Drawn by an irresistible compulsion to gravitate to what seemed to Harry to be the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld, Harry heard the low murmur of a woman's voice, calm and soothing, yet terrible in it's power.

I posses the power to mend

Though I appear to few

I grant to power to heal

And make memories new.

The scars of inside draw me

A heart of gold calls

But my light on those afflicted

Does not heal those who recall.

Cure thy loved one, Golden Child

You can fix their pain

Learn what was taught, and you shall return

Speak a name, or I will fade.

"Sirius Black."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was sucked into a glittering ball of light. In a glimmering wormhole, he sped past faces and places he had never known. Seeing them all, and yet remembering none. He saw a vast ring of fire in front of him, and before he could scream, he passed through. He landed, falling on a soft Persian rug. Harry looked around, seeing a vast room, with flickering embers in the fireplace, and an oppressive seeming in the dim light theme of dark blue.

The curtains were open, the moonlight illuminating a bed in the center of the room. The curtains were parted revealing a sleeping figure, though Harry could not discern whom. Unwilling to make his presence known in this strange room, he tiptoed closer. When he saw who it was, he could not stifle a gasp.

Sirius Black. Though actually, his features were difficult to discern, with his face half buried in the pillow, and the mask of night upon his face.

Sirius moaned lightly and sat up, sleepily rubbing his eyes. When he saw Harry, he appeared puzzled. "James? What are you doing here?"

"James?"

Well, that's it. Review!!!!!!