I don't own anything in the Harry Potter universe; it belongs to J.K Rowling. I also make a vague reference to Star Trek, which I also don't own.

For Harry, it happened in a flash of light. Even after he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to block the glare, he could still see a brilliant blue white color that burned his retinas and caused afterimages that teleported around his field of vision. The light was accompanied by a loud ripping sound that silenced the screams and spells that were all Harry had heard for the past twenty minutes of the god-forsaken battle against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The Dark Lord's minions were far outnumbered by the battered freedom fighters that opposed them, but the tide of the battle had remained with Voldemort. The Death Eaters used dark curses that tore through the ranks of tired witches and wizards who supported the Light unwaveringly and refused to use the dark, though admittedly powerful, spells. Although more numerous, the fighters for the Light had suffered indescribable tragedy and loss. Even though the death of their friends and family caused righteous anger and willpower, adrenaline can only carry humans so far, and all of the witches and wizards were exhausted, drained both mentally and physically by all they had endured. And the battle showed no signs of waning. It was the last stand for all of them and every single person who stood in the field in northern Britain knew it. They had endured too much, gone on for too long and it showed in every move that was made, every incantation that passed pale lips, and every look that was shared before another person's eyes glazed over and they stared at nothing. Blood soaked the ground, turning trampled plants from brown to red. The dead, dry plants provided fuel for the multiple small fires that had been caused by wayward spells. The sun, which had been visible when the battle had started, had long since set, and the black sky was lit up by the colorful bursts of light that shot back and forth across the horizon.

For the fighters doing battle in the field, it happened with a terrible ripping sound that echoed over the plains like thunder, freezing everyone in place as they searched for the cause. Harry had been in the center of the chaos, striking down masked figures left and right. He had been swearing at the lean, cloaked person twenty yards away while wordlessly sending blazes of colored light around him. The cloaked figure only laughed as he sent green spears of light towards the struggling fighters surrounding him.

"No points for originality to him," Harry remembered muttering right before being blinded by the flash of light.

Voldemort had leveled his wand at the black haired boy, but even as he murmured the words of the killing curse, two of his followers also sent curses at Harry.

Seeing what was occurring, at least three wizards wearing robes with the Hogwarts crest pointed their wooden sticks in front of Harry and shouted, "Protego." Even as three shimmering shields formed and three colorful lines, one green, one red, and one purple, shot towards the brave wizard, another spell, originating somewhere to Harry's right, moved towards him on an intercept course with the others. For a moment, the world seemed frozen as Harry took in the multitude of lights in front of him. As his dark eyelashes closed in a blink, momentarily blocking his view, time seemed to crash back into reality, speeding the spells back up to the speed of light. Harry's eyes opened again and the magic collided in a great burst of color and sound, swirling as it enveloped Harry midword. By the time the ringing in everyone's ears had faded and the afterimages had disappeared from their vision, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Last Hope of the Wizarding World had vanished.

The rupture appeared in midair, excess magic pouring out of the new hole in reality. Harry Potter tumbled from the gap. The light from the hole disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving the groaning figure on the floor as the only sign that it had ever been there. Still partially blinded, the only thing that Harry registered as he stood up, giving the gaping rows of students their first good look at him, was the sudden lack of noise. For their part, the students in Hogwarts had been enjoying chatting with their friends as they waited for the Sorting and the Feast to start when the strange boy had appeared, cursing and brandishing his wand at something. He had actually gotten a single spell off before he crashed into the ground and the red light had ricocheted off a nearby torch into the wall. Many of the teenagers looked to the scorch mark on the stones to the boy and back in stunned disbelief.

When he stood up, the students noticed the boy's physical appearance. He was fairly tall and had tattered robes, a grim demeanor, and bright green eyes. His messy hair was mostly black (one girl swore she saw silver strands by his temples) and tied back in an elegant ponytail that brushed the back of his robe's collar. Harry looked around and stilled almost instantly. His gaze swept around the hall, causing numerous people to shiver, before coming to a rest on the teachers. More specifically, he looked at the Headmaster, Alfred Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"So I'm dead then?" Although it was a question, Harry said it as a statement. Before anybody could react to that patently absurd statement, he swept forward. "It's good to see you looking so healthy, my friend." Harry strode to McGonagall's seat and wrapped the stunned witch in a hug while declaring, "Minnie, my dear, I've missed you." Because of the acoustics in the room, all the students heard him. One or two fell of their benches in shock while a few on the gryffindor side looked like Christmas had come early.

The Transfiguration teacher sputtered as Harry released her to look around the room. "So this is Heaven. I must say, it's wonderful how much it looks like Hogwarts. I'd have never guessed that the real one was destroyed." At this the stupefied looks all around the room grew more pronounced and the sputtering coming from the teachers' dining table because louder.

Everyone stared as the crazy stranger leaped gracefully from the dias at the end of the hall and waved between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. He gestured around and declared, "I mean, there's a few nicks here and there missing, but some scratches still showed up."

It was at this point that Dumbledore gathered his bearings enough to say, "Excuse me, young man, but this is most certainly not Heaven."

The students looked on as the young man move happily in a state of denial. "Of course is, Albus. Don't kid! Relax, I'm busy being impressed with the attention to detail that was put into this."

"But…" Albus was waved into silence as Harry looked up, essentially ignoring him.

"I don't believe it!" Harry bounced slightly and beamed. "You included the Gate of Gifts!" He glanced around and his voice took on a tone that all of the members of the DA would recognize. "Now it gifts you the thing or things you most need. Not must want, understand?" The students around him felt compelled to nod at his stern tone. Harry shook his finger at them. "But be warned," he scowled for a moment before his lips turned up at the corners, "if the Gate doesn't like you, it may decide you need something nasty." Harry let out a sigh as he remembered a past incident with a certain blonde Slytherin. The students near him all scooted away slightly.

Harry grinned at them all before crouching down, tensing his muscles, and leaping upwards. His foot pushed off a tiny niche in the wall and he reached out to grab something in his outstretched hand. As gravity pulled him down, he found what he was looking for with hand-eye coordination honed by hours of chasing the snitch. Everyone stared as the boy's motion was halted about a foot off the ground and he dangled from an invisible cord. Harry slowly moved downward as his weight pulled the trapdoor above him open. As he touched the ground, Harry flashed his teeth in a smile and waited expectantly. Everybody followed his gaze to the revealed space and waited in surprised anticipation.

Up inside the gate, magic swirled around. It felt… puzzled. Eventually, the magic shrugged, as much as sparks can shrug, and then manifested into what it thought the boy needed. Nobody below, however, was prepared for the blur that came rushing out. It rammed into Harry's midsection and he huffed, dropping the cord and allowing the hatch to close. A number of eyes marked where the Gate was for future reference. Harry was too involved with the animal that trembled in his arms to notice or care.

"Kirk?" he breathed with wide eyes. The animal whimpered slightly and tuned to face him. It had a pair of soft, buttery wings whose feathers blended into fur where they connected at it's back. Its face was that of a lion, with a tail that appeared to be a sand-colored snake that hissed at Harry.

"A chimera?" whispered an awed Ravenclaw.

Harry looked up from where he was cuddling the creature and smiled. "Sorta. You can call him Kirk."

A genuinely befuddled Dumbledore spoke up next. "But," he began, looking a little lost, "who are you?"

The boy looked startled. "Harry, of course."

"Harry…" The Headmaster gestured vaguely with his hand, looking for a last name.

Harry narrowed his eyes. In a flash, he was in front of the man with his wand at his throat. "Who are you?" he hissed. "You should know me. What have you done with the real Albus Dumbledore?"

Minerva wasn't the only teacher to gasp, but she was the closest. "Young man," she snapped. "I don't know who you think you are, but…"

Harry interrupted her by snarling at Dumbledore, "Prove you are who you say you are." He seemed to think for a moment, still holding the Headmaster at wand-point. "What is your favorite type of jam?"

The wizened man was obviously startled, but his eyes started to twinkle as he responded, "Raspberry, but…"

Harry cut him off. "And your sister's name?"

Dumbledore paled, but answered, "Ariana."

The boy stumbled backwards in shock. "But… that's impossible! How do you not know who I am?" As Harry stumbled backward, he hit the something behind him and tripped. The force of his fall caused the Sorting Hat to fly from its stool (because of course that's what the object was) and land on the startled boy's head.

Harry froze as the Hat's consciousness entered the edges of his mind. "Well, well, well. What have we here?" Harry felt the Sorting Hat flip through his memories like the pages of a book before he could protest that he didn't need to be sorted.

Around Harry, Hogwarts was in an uproar. Kirk circled Harry and growled at anyone who came close. The teachers didn't know what was going on. Some students were scared and others were just along for the ride, looking around to see what new, unexpected thing would happen next. The first-years were getting antsy, waiting outside the hall with Hagrid who was trying to decide if he should peek in and see if everyone was ready. Unfortunately, Hagrid knew he wasn't exactly unobtrusive, so he settled in to wait for Professor McGonagall. The first-years' stories about the Sorting were growing more and more wild as they compared what older siblings had told them.

"It's not trolls," whispered one, "It must be dragons!"

One girl shrieked while a nearby boy scoffed. "Don't be daft. My brother's friend told me we have to walk over burning coals while answering Calculus questions."

"What is Calculus?" asked a second boy with glasses.

"I don't know," responded the first, "but if you fail, you get thrown in the dungeon."

At this, one little girl grabbed her friend's hand and said, "Let's make a run for it."

Meanwhile, Harry was conversing with the Hat, who seemed to be in shock. "Harry Potter? But how is that possible?"

"What are you," Harry started before being interrupted.

"Oh. Oh, I see. Shouldn't be possible, but since when did magic ask me anything? Alright, here's the deal. I'm going to give you an info dump that should explain everything, but you can come to me if you have questions. You are what, a seventh-year?"

Before Harry could answer, the Hat said, "Oh, you didn't finish seventh year because of the war. Okay, well you will be ahead, but it could be worse. Now, I'll put you with the Gryffs?"

The Sorting Hat trailed off before asserting, "Yes, with the Gryffindors. What have we here? You are the heir to Gryffindor… and Slytherin by right of conquest through Tom Riddle. You already know the benefits, yes?" Harry just nodded, having given up on trying to get a word in. "You'll probably go into shock, which I apologize for, by the way. Where was I? Oh, yeah, just ask Hogwarts to take you to your dorm. Have fun, Harry." With that, information flooded into Harry's mind. Harry staggered, falling back onto the animal behind him as he struggled to assimilate the new knowledge.

The Sorting Hat's voice rang throughout the hall, "Gryffindor!" In a quieter voice, it added, "He's a seventh year, by the way." The teachers gaped at the Hat while everyone in Gryffindor turned to look at the four boys that sat at the middle of the table. They looked at each other with surprise and a little dismay.

One of the boys, tall, handsome, and black haired, shrugged. "He seemed like an alright bloke to me."

The other dark haired boy nodded, sliding his glasses further up his nose. "And he knows all sorts of interesting things about the castle like that magic gate thingy."

The shortest boy of the four looked aghast. "What! We're just going to except this stranger?"

The last boy nodded firmly. "Of course we are, Peter. We can see if he'd be a good friend or not first, but there's no reason not to at least be polite."

Simultaneously, Harry was struggling to understand everything. He'd been somehow transported to the past and was his parents' age, which is why Hogwarts looked the same, but no one knew who he was. Harry toyed with the idea of telling people the truth, but decided not to. Since he was going to change the future anyway, nothing he knew would really be applicable. Harry sighed. He would try to make things better. It was a second chance to make sure all those deaths didn't have to happen. At least, that was what he had decided. Plus, then he wouldn't have to deal with the Voldemort he had just left because he would stop him sooner. Or at least, he thought that's how it would work. Harry was still too overwhelmed by the fact that his parents were alive to puzzle through things clearly.

He glanced up, swaying with a combination of fatigue and shock. He froze when he saw the four Gryffindor boys who were now his roommates. It was at that point that his body and mind determined that they quit. He had been through an exhausting battle and was now expected to deal with this? No way. He sank to the ground, Kirk behind him, keeping his head from hitting the hard stone floor.

He sent his magic out, reaching to the magic of Hogwarts. Because he was the heir of the founders, the magic responded. It sent a vague questioning feeling at Harry. He asked to be taken to his bed so he could rest. Everyone in the hall gawked as the floor split and the boy disappeared. A second later, the stones resealed and it was if nothing had occured. As a whole, every individual in the room decided that there had been quite enough impossible things that had happened today and they all made the decision to ignore the disappearance of Harry.

Up in one of the towers, the elves had already made a bed and placed it in with the other four in the dorm. The floor seperated and Harry rose up to the fill the space. He crawled into the only bed without rumpled covers and shut the bed curtains firmly before falling asleep with his clothes and shoes still on. Downstairs, Minerva McGonagall finally opened the doors to the hall and the Sorting of the first-years began.