AN: So, to address possible concerns of plagiarism... I initially wrote this story years ago and had submitted it on another site under the moniker LunatikPandora. I lost my plot bunny for a long while, mainly because I had no idea how to address some very glaring issues that came up. Suffice it to say, I've tentatively fixed them (though who knows; something else may come up.) I wanted to post this here with the edits I've made to see how it was received. I'd like to continue it, but I may be a bit pressed for time between work and school, especially since this is a rough semester. Chemistry as an English major? Bleh. So here's what I have so far. Hope you like it. I'd appreciate honest feedback, ideas, etc. I'd also appreciate a lack of flames, but understand that this is the internet. This story is partially epilogue-compliant before venturing off into basically AU territory. Thanks for reading.

Cheers,
Loekei/LunatikPandora

PS: If anyone would like to see some of the pictures I've drawn of the characters as I've pictured them in my head... kinda... then head onto deviantArt and look up my old account under samt_arras. (I say old account because I'm a genius and forgot my password, and the account is linked to an email that no longer exists. Sad that I've lost an account I've been working on since... 2006? Ish. But my own fault.)

Sirius Black was not the type of man who would easily stand by and let someone take over his responsibilities. He was a prankster and a rogue, but he was nothing if not a faithful and reliable friend to those he loved more dearly than his own family. (Admittedly, the aforementioned family were a bunch of crazy blood-supremacists, but that is entirely beside the point.)

So when Rubeus Hagrid informed him that he was taking his now-orphaned godson to his aunt and uncle's house rather than letting him take the poor lad home, you can imagine how surprised the half-giant was when Sirius acquiesced with very little fight.

"I'm sorry, Sirius... really, I am. They didn' deserve this." And Sirius nodded glumly.

"Neither does he."

Startled, the two men spun around, wands (or in Hagrid's case, a large pink umbrella) trained directly at the shadowy figures who had suddenly appeared in their midst.

"Who are ye? Wha' do ye want?" The taller of the two shadows raised his hands defensively.

"It's alright, Hagrid, we're not your enemies. And believe me when I say that the very last thing we want to do is to hurt that boy." Hagrid seemed to be lowering his guard slightly, a fact which just raised Sirius' hackles higher than they already had been.

"Then why don't you show yourselves, so we can decide for ourselves if you're really trustworthy," he snarled. "Or do you prefer to hide in the shadows like rats?"

A palpable coldness fell over the group.

"I'd prefer to not be compared to a sniveling coward who sold his friends out to save his own skin, if you don't mind." Sirius' eyes narrowed at these words.

"You know then?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"You told me."

"LIAR!" He gripped the wand harder, fully intending to strangle the man with his own intestinal tract. But he never got that far; the shadowy man had moved into the light, revealing an untidy mop of dark hair, framing a thin face on which were perched a pair of round glasses. Beside him was a petite woman with vibrant red hair. He lowered his wand, stunned.

"James? Lily?" And the man lifted his head, drawing himself up to his full height. And Sirius knew at once that he was mistaken.

Those were Lily's eyes staring him down out of James' face. His mind began frantically putting together the pieces, leading him to the only possible conclusion.

"No... Harry?" HE couldn't believe it; even as the young man-Harry? No, impossible- nodded his assent, Sirius had whipped his wand back up again. "FINITE INCATATEM!"

Nothing happened. He must be polyjuiced or something. "REVELO!"

Still, nothing. Lily's eyes stared into his own with a deep sadness and regret; James' face showed understanding. Sirius, half out of his mind with grief, was throwing every spell in the book at him, trying to get him to reveal his true face. But he just sat there and took everything unflinchingly; tears had slowly started to make their way down his thin face. Finally, he spoke, softly, haltingly.

"Padfoot... it's really me. I promise." And he pulled out a thin gold chain with an hourglass on it, and Sirius knew exactly what it was and what it meant. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he knew no more.

"Yeh gave us a righ' scare there, Harry. Don' know who te trus', these days, yeh know. Yeh coulda been anyone. Damn lucky he didn' curse yeh, te be honest with yeh."

"I know Hagrid. But we had to stop him somehow."

"I canna preten' te understan' it, Harry, but if yer anythin' like yer parents, bless their souls, then yer a good man in my book, an' I trust yeh. I don' wanna know anythin' about what yer doin if I can help not knowin'; I've an awfully bad habit of spillin' the beans, as it were."

A third voice joined the conversation; a woman's voice.

"So you're alright with this, then?"

"It's for the best, Ginny. If I can' remember yeh, I can' very well tell anyone about yeh that might want that information. 'Specially anyone workin' with... well... You-Know-Who. Jus... yeh know how teh do it, don' yeh?"

"Of course."

"Well, alrigh' then. Go ahead and do it."

"OBLIVIATE!" A whooshing noise was heard as the spell was cast; then the rustling of paper, and Harry giving the benevolent half-giant very clear instructions.

"Rubeus Hagrid, you are going to take this note to Albus Dumbledore. He is to read it privately, in his study. If he asks, tell him that Harry Potter is safe, and will remain safe. We would also request that he visit the Potter home in Godric's Hollow at precisely 11 o'clock tonight. You will not remember who gave you these orders. Now, go." A sound of a motorbike starting, and then driving away into the night, and a man's sigh.

"Sirius, you can quit pretending to be asleep. I know you can hear us now." He opened his eyes and sat up. He was in Lily and James' sitting room, on the sofa before the hearth. The same one they used to play with little Harry on. That same boy was now sitting at the window, one leg pulled up to his chest, the moonlight reflecting off of his face. The play of light and shadow across his features really drove home just how careworn he looked. He turned around and saw the woman, Ginny, he guessed, sitting by the fire with baby Harry asleep in her arms, which were curled protectively around both the sleeping child and the curve of her own belly. Finally, in the back corner of the room, he saw two figures covered in linens; a woman's hand peeked out from underneath the nearest of them. He gasped, tears springing to his eyes as he realized just who it was under those sheets.

"I brought them both down here and covered them myself; we'll send them with Dumbledore when he gets here, so he can make the preparations." Sirius turned to look back at the young man in the windowsill, whose green eyes were now focused on him. "If you want to take a look, just for some closure, now would be the time. Just bear in mind, that... well, you know how the Killing Curse tends to freeze your expressions as they were the moment it hits you... it may not exactly be pleasant." Sirius felt a cold dead weight settle in the pit of his stomach as Harry's words registered with him. He nodded mutely, and moved to the back corner of the room to say his goodbyes. He pulled the sheet back from Lily first.

Her once-beautiful green eyes were now glassy and dull, yet open wide in fear and desperation. He stroked her cheek; it was still soft, and just losing the last vestiges of warmth. There was a moist part along the hollows of her cheekbones where her tears hadn't quite dried yet. With shaking hands, he covered her once more, and brought a fist up to his mouth, trying as hard as he could to keep the tears at bay. Once he thought he had reined himself in, he slowly drew back James' sheet.

Sirius couldn't hold back the choked sob that burst forth from him then. As he took in his best friend's cold dead form, he couldn't help but recall all their years together. The pain nearly overwhelmed him as he looked into James' cloudy hazel eyes. His expression was torn between blatant terror and a nearly bestial ferocity.

"He was trying to give us enough time to run." His head whipped around once more to face Harry, who was now standing behind him, leaning against the wall like a sullen schoolboy. "The bastard blasted the door open and killed him before he could even grab his wand. He only had enough time to raise the alarm... he shouted up the stairs at her to run... turned around to face him... and died.

"Mum could have gotten away. He was going to spare her if she only stepped aside and let him at me. She wouldn't. She begged him to spare me, to take her instead. He killed her, and moved to kill me. And that... leaves us where we are now."

Sirius stared at him, mouth hanging open.

"He... tried to kill you?" Harry turned to face him, pulling his fringe up as he did so. Sirius saw a strange scar on his forehead.

"Tried. Backfired a bit, though." He let his fringe fall again, rubbing his forehead gently as he did so. "Because she chose to die to save me, she invoked some old magic. It protected me, causing the spell to bounce off my forehead and hit him instead." Sirius felt the faintest stirrings of hope at that.

"So, he's dead?"

"No. He's still alive. Just... terribly weakened. I'll have to explain that more fully when Dumbledore arrives." The clock on the mantlepiece began to chime. "Which... should be any moment now."

And lo and behold, with a faint pop, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the middle of the room; no sooner had he appeared, however, than he had tried to summon baby Harry from Ginny's arms. Much to his surprise, a shield charm blocked his spell.

"Impossible..." he murmured. Ginny had gotten up (with a small amount of difficulty, given her delicate condition and the baby in her arms) and brandished her wand at the aging wizard.

"Not impossible, just unexpected. After all, how were you to know that there could be two Masters in the same room?" His eyes widened behind his half-moon glasses.

"Perhaps we should sit and discuss this, then."

"Yes, we should. But first..." Sirius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the wards were re-erected around the house. Finally, the lights came on, just as Harry vaulted himself over the couch (in a manner so reminiscent of James it sent pangs through his chest just watching him) and gestured for the others to sit as well. Sirius and Ginny sat as well; Dumbledore however, conjured his own chair (a garish purple and gold chintz monstrosity) and sat before the hearth, eyeing everyone in the room suspiciously. Harry leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he turned to regard the old headmaster.

"I trust you read the note I sent with Hagrid?" His tone was light, conversational.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied with a polite nod. "However, I must confess to being confused on a few points. First and foremost, I was not aware that anyone other than myself, Mr. Black here, and the Potters were aware of the nature of the… protections around the house." At this point Harry leaned back into the sofa, conjuring tea for everyone as he did so, and took a deep sip from his cup before speaking.

"I thought I explained it fairly well in the note, Professor. James and Sirius devised a plan they thought would throw Voldemort off the scent, in which they, at the last minute, changed the secret keeper to Peter, who they viewed as the less obvious choice." He paused, deliberating his next words, as Sirius buried his head in his hands, grief-stricken. "Obviously you were mistaken; I don't know where he is right now, but my advice to you, Sirius, is not to go and seek him out." His head snapped up at that, and he stared at Harry with an incredulous look.

"Are you mad? That bloody rat is the reason your parents were murdered, Harry-"

"Harry?" Dumbledore was now staring at the strange young man, understanding dawning on his face. Sirius paid him no mind, plowing on as though he hadn't spoken.

"-and I'll be DAMNED if I let him get away with this! I'm honestly surprised you haven't gone marching off to find him yourself!" And Harry just sighed into his tea, that too-old expression crossing his features again.

"Honestly, Padfoot, I haven't figured out quite what to do with him yet. I only know that he can't die yet. He has his part to play. As do you, for that matter."

"This isn't a game, boy; this is people's lives we're talking about here. Lily and James are dead, and the man responsible for their deaths is off gallivanting about the bloody neighborhood without a care in the world, because he has a bloody PART TO PLAY? Who the bloody hell do you think you are? We're not pawns to be toyed with!"

"Enough!" He couldn't explain why, but at Ginny's sharp command, he fell silent; Harry, who had been ready to jump from his seat and attempt to knock some sense into the man's head, also settled back down into his chair, fuming silently. The young woman clutched the child to her chest as she stood up, briefly placing a steadying hand on her belly as she did so, and turned to glare at Sirius.

"You have no idea what he's trying to accomplish here, Sirius Black. Imagine for one moment, that you were in his shoes. You just went back in time to try and save some people very dear to you, as well as to save everyone a little misery the second time around. And yet the whole time, you have to make sure that some things still happen the same way, so that you can ensure that at the end of it all, Voldemort will still die, and you still walk away unscathed.

"YOU," she growled, jabbing her finger into his chest, "happen to be one of those people very dear to him who he is trying to save. Imagine what would have happened if you had gone after Peter before we got here. Dumbledore wouldn't know you hadn't been the secret keeper, and you'd have still been the bad guy. Worse, you'd have cornered him in the middle of a muggle street, in broad daylight, and he'd have faked his own death and killed twelve muggles in the process, thereby framing you for his murder -and theirs- and getting you thrown in bloody Azkaban. You then spend twelve, long, miserable years in that shit hole before you escape, are on the run for two, and end up getting offed by your lovely cousin Bellatrix right in front of Harry here. Is that not reason enough to hold you here? To save your bloody life? Or how about the fact that with you in Azkaban, he gets sent to live with those disgusting-"

"Gin." Harry's voice was quiet, but firm, and held a tone of warning. Ginny nodded and sat back down, still shooting daggers at Sirius, who was staring at her pale-faced and slack-jawed. He turned to Harry after a moment.

"Azkaban? Really?" Harry nodded at him; he pulled his wand out and traced a small intricate pattern in the air in front of him. A thin silvery mist appeared, and on it was projected an image. He waved his wand again and expanded it so everyone could see.

"Is that the Shrieking Shack? And who the bloody hell is that?"

"That, Sirius, is you." Any color that was still in his face quickly left it at that admission. The man in the mist was sallow faced, his hair long and matted, his eyes crazed. Remus was there as well, holding him back from charging at a frightened red-headed boy with a rat in his hands. "That's where your vengeance will get you." He waved his wand once more, and the image changed to another; Sirius noted he looked better, cleaner, but still held that same hollow, haunted look, even through his laughter. Laughter which was quickly extinguished by a sickly jet of green light that hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backwards through a veiled archway, where he vanished.

"Sweet merciful Nimue..."

"That's why we're here. To keep that from happening." He jabbed his wand at the image-which now showed him looking roughly ten years younger, and screaming in Remus' arms- causing it to dissipate. He turned to Dumbledore, and began speaking to him in a very business-like tone.

"The boy will not be going to live with the Dursleys."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but he must; it's the only way to protect him. Surely you know that-"

"The blood protection is valid as long as he lives wherever his mother's blood dwells, correct?"

"That is correct."

"Then he's going to go with Sirius... and so will we."

"I'm sorry, but that's not-"

"If you say that's not going to work, then might I remind you: given that the boy and I are - for all intents and purposes- the same person, it would follow that we share the same mother, and by that logic, the same blood, correct?" His logic brought Dumbledore up short. A troubled expression slowly crept onto his face.

"That is correct. But Harry, how do you expect to raise... yourself? You can't honestly believe that you'll be able to access your vault or hold a job or anything in this timeline, one where you technically only exist as an infant. And this is, of course, ignoring the fact that you are spitting in the face of every known law of time travel simply by-"

"Your wand recognized me." There was a long pause as the men regarded each other.

"Pardon?"

"In my line, I am the Master of that wand, having taken it from the man who had taken it from you. If your logic holds true, and the magic of this timeline will not recognize me as a valid entity, then how do you explain this?"

And Albus Dumbledore, for the first time in many long years, was rendered speechless. It was a few moments before he finally let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly.

"I concede. You've obviously done some homework on this."

"Not really; that was just lucky chance. Plan B was to live as a muggle. But enough of that, there's some important information I have for you:

"First, Voldemort is not dead. He's simply floating around bodiless."

"I had surmised as much. I've plans to figure out where he may be currently headed to-"

"The forests of Albania. He'll be laying low there for a few years yet. I also know why he didn't die. And I'm sure you have your... theories as well." The two men exchanged a dark, meaningful look.

"I do, although I am unsure if that is the extent of it."

"Professor, what is the most magically powerful number? Seven, isn't it?" Albus's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets in shock, his face pale and tinged with green.

"He didn't... he made... six of them...?"

"Well... the sixth was unintentional; he doesn't know he made it. He'll make his 'sixth' when he returns to power." He saw the wheels turning in his former professor's head, and saw the exact moment when he realized the truth.

"Oh my..."

"You see part of my dilemma. Do we tell him he's fated to die, or let him find out on his own?" Sirius perked up at that.

"Who's fated to die."

"Me."

"WHAT? Why?" And Harry laughed.

"It's alright. I'll live, as you can see." He steepled his fingers. "No, the biggest part of my dilemma is not whether to tell him the truth or not, or to try and find some way around this, which I will admittedly be doing anyway, just as a failsafe. It's whether to let certain events unfold so that the conditions will be met." He turned to Sirius at this point. "This is the part that Peter has to play, and it's why I'm so hesitant to kill him at this point."

"Better explain then, kiddo." Much to his surprise, despite his gruff voice, Harry smiled warmly at him when he said that. His whole face lights up when he smiles... just like his mother.

"Well, here's the plan I have so far..."