This idea sort of came to me in one of my 'I'm going to try and read the whole Harry Potter series in one go' scenarios, which never actually work out as planned. But here is to hoping this plan will work out right.

I do not own, nor have any rights over any of the characters pertaining to the Harry Potter series, nor is any copyright infringement intended. I'm going to use the HP Lexicon to find out the names of students in Hogwarts during this time era, so I won't be making anyone up. I'm also not sure if I should just leave this as it is, or continue, so advice would be greatly appreciate!

Reviews shall get bacon, because for whatever reason, I have loads.

It was all happening at once. So much in fact that Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the great Boy Who Lived, could not even comprehend what was going on. In the distance there were screams, cackles of laughter and the sound of spells and curses and disarmament charms being thrown back and forth. He didn't even know how he could hear all of this, when he was face to face with the man – no, the monster who had murdered his family in cold blood. But he supposed, absently, that when you were moments from death, everything seemed slower – and considerably a lot clearer. He could suddenly see things better and he thought, funnily enough, that he could almost read their thoughts. That of course was absurd though. How could he read minds? Of all the things… but no. Now was not the time to be thinking of all the things he could do, of all the things he'd had to do in order to get him here. Right now what mattered was how to finish what was started sixteen years ago.

He'd come in to the depths of the forest, right where Voldemort was waiting for him, waiting to kill him without a single hint of remorse. Of course not; why would he? Harry swallowed back bitterness that rose in his throat, and pushed forwards, right until he could look in to the murderer's gleaming red eyes. So full of surprise that Harry had come, so full of pleasure for what he was about to do – what he was about to finally accomplish. Some accomplishment, Harry thought bitterly. If this is all he sees, death… and Voldemort was about to see the death of another later than Harry had expected. He had thought Voldemort would just kill him off, right there and then, but then why do that when he could marvel, and boast about his soon-to-be actions.

"Avada Kedavra!" The jet of green light shot with an impenetrable speed, and he was gone.

Harry had, somehow, the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

He was laying face down on the damp ground, the smell of fresh cut grass floating up his nostrils. The wand, Draco's wand, still pressed against his chest, and the soft padding of the Invisibility Cloak rested against his stomach. He realised, after a while, that he must be alive for he was feeling and no doubt thinking things coherently, giving himself another jolt. He. Was. Alive.

"Hey, there's a kid on the lawn!" A very familiar voice called although it was certainly not for him. He could feel his fingers move, although he aimed to keep as still as possible until he could figure out just where the hell he was – because in all honesty, nobody in Voldemort's inner circle who had just witnessed his murder would have yelled dramatically: 'there's a kid on the lawn!'

"Do you think he's dead?" A slightly less confident voice tremored somewhere beside him. Something poked his side, and Harry bit back the urge to yelp.

"Nah, look I can see he's breathing." The first voice again. "C'mon Wormy, let's get the poor bloke to the hospital wing."

The one thing that bothered Harry, other than the particularly uncomfortable notion of floating in midair, was how familiar that voice was to him. Both of them in fact, but the first was even more so than the other. And Wormy… that name meant something too. Wormtail! Harry's insides churned, but his mind quickly dismissed the thought; that was impossible. Harry had a hard time keeping his body as unconscious-looking as was possible, because all he needed right now was to be alone, and that wasn't going to happen if he was suddenly awake and would no doubt have to start answering questions. Answering them… but to what questions? Harry thought as he heard a door swing open, and a scurry of footsteps. And where the bloody hell am I?

Thump!

He was dropped on to something cushion-like, and was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was now facing upwards, and now viewable to his… well; to the people who had brought him here. There were more voices now but Harry did his best to block them all out. He was worried that they might discover the Invisibility Cloak tucked under his jacket, or the wand by his chest, but all he felt was a cover being draped over his body, and his glasses removed and placed on a nearby surface.

"Funny looking scar he's got there," the first boy once again noted, his voice very intrigued.

"Now, you said you did not know this boy?" Madam Pomfrey! Harry felt a rush of relief… but also confusion. She would certainly know who he was, especially if they had seen his scar… crap! His scar was on full view… he didn't know where he was, and if Voldemort found out he was still alive then… his thoughts were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's insistent voice. "You must go, all of you! This boy needs his rest, and I myself shall inform the Headmaster when the boy wakes. Go on!"

Once the footsteps had died down, and those of Pomfrey's had also disappeared in to the distance, Harry dared to open his eyes. Once he was sure he was alone, and no one could see him, he sat up and was about to sling his legs over the side of the bed when he paused and stared at the area about him. "This doesn't look like the Hospital Wing I used to know," he said aloud to himself. It was certainly a lot… well, new wasn't the word he'd use as choice, but it was newer.

Harry's mind reeled. He was definitely in Hogwarts; even without the voices he recognised the place instantly just with one look. But… wasn't there a war being fought right about now? Wasn't there a battle happening within the very walls of Hogwarts, and surely one body lying on the grounds of the school wasn't going to be a surprise if there were all ready plenty of them? He decided that, for better measure, he should hurry up and get the hell out of the Hospital Wing, and somewhere that made a lot more sense. Like the entrance… but, as Harry sped along the corridors and came to the opening, it was empty. Not only that – it was shiny, and as if not one curse had been made. None of this made any sense. He spun on his heel, desperate for an answer. Faintly he could hear voices; they sounded older, so he immediately threw on his cloak, and backed in to a safe corner where he could watch them come up out of the Dungeons.

"Slughorn?" Harry said, abashed, for indeed it was Professor Horace Slughorn accompanied by Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's dead though! His mind countered immediately. However there was no mistaking the silvery white beard, and the half moon spectacles of the great headmaster of Hogwarts. His mind reeled. Dumbledore alive? The school looking as though the Great Battle had never taken place not five minutes ago? Was this what heaven looked like? He couldn't be dead though, because he was moving, talking and feeling – he had definitely felt the prodding of whosever wand it was back outside the castle… but…

Unknowingly Harry had been following Dumbledore and Slughorn up the stairs. Almost immediately he figured out where they were headed, the two professors, so he didn't exactly have to concentrate. If anyone knew what was going on, Dumbledore surely would… he could just picture the conversation in his mind, and shook his head, almost crashing in to a rogue student. Where were they all, in lessons? Never mind that, he had to follow Dumbledore! What in the world had possessed him to go after Dumbledore first, than to figure out what the hell was going on, Harry didn't know. If there's one thing he did know, it was that he had to get back. The only way he could see that happening right now was by speaking to Dumbledore. He didn't, however, count on overhearing a conversation that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Yes, that's what I heard-"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is on the move… wonder where he's going this time."

Harry Potter, the boy who had just been 'killed' by the Killing Curse, was now in no fit state to be following anyone. He moved swiftly along the corridor, hunching over under the Invisibility Cloak, before he came across an empty classroom. Once inside, he removed the Cloak, stuffed it in his pocket, and fell to the ground back still against the wall. He needed time to think, he needed to figure out what was going on. Why was he one moment right in front of Voldemort, and the next in a place that was most definitely Hogwarts with a walking, talking and very much alive Dumbledore, and where Voldemort was only just 'on the move'?

"This doesn't make sense!" He said, frustrated, and shoved one hand violently to the floor, regretting the action instantly. Whilst he ignored the heavy throbbing, his ears picked up that of another conversation. This time however the voices were getting closer and closer, and the door to the classroom he was in swung open. Forgetting completely about his hand Harry ripped out the Cloak and threw it over himself, glad that he had sat out of view of the immediate entrance.

But the girl who had slung the door so violently open forced Harry to look at her again. Several moments passed, but the words she was saying didn't make sense. She was familiar. He knew her face. And then he allowed himself to listen to the words she was speaking.

"James Potter, you are without a doubt the most annoying no-good arrogant toe rag on this planet!" Exclaimed the red-haired girl. Her features were creased, stressed and annoyed as she paced between two desks.

His mother.

And then, as if he had willed it to be so, a boy stepped in to clear view. "Miss Evans, what horrible things you say." Even with the words, Harry could see the corner of his lips turn upwards.

His father.

The both of them, in the same room. The both of them alive.