A/n: I've wanted to this for what feels like forever, and now I finally am. I know its going to be slow going, but I'm so excited. Ill try an update as much as possible, and I hope you enjoy reading:) Please leave as much feedback as you can! But remember:

"The ones that love us never really leave us. You can always find them... in here."

- Sirius Black

"Severus... please..."

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry watched Dumbledore's body sailing through the air like he did most nights, feeling the horror and panic and pain rise into his throat, escaping in a strangled scream. The eyes of his headmaster had lost their usual kind twinkle, and now resembled a murky blue sea. Harry dropped to his knees, the anguish in his chest too much for him to bear as his heart thudded, screaming a new word with every beat. Gone. Dead. Forever. He retched, but nothing came up; he tried to speak, but the words were lost in his mouth; he even tried to cry, to squeeze tears out if his eyes- but there was no release from the heartbreak he was feeling. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was there again, standing by Dumbledore's tomb- but he wasn't alone. Next to him stood his parents, Lily and James Potter; his godfather, Sirius Black, and his old friend, Cedric Diggory. They all wore somber expressions as they faced Harry. "Oh, my baby." His mothers kind voice broke through his pain as she reached a soft hand out to caress his face, her gentle touch vanishing the agony inside of him. But then her face morphed into that of Petunia Dursley, her sister, and her expression became sneering, her caress becoming a harsh slap.

"Your fault, boy!" She screamed. He looked around for help from the remaining three witnesses, but they all shook their head at him, disappointed. Too many people had died, he'd failed. He hadn't saved them.

Harry awoke with a gasp, sweat pouring down his face and sticking the damp sheets to his skin. The nightmares were getting worse. He'd had to place a silencing charm on himself before he went to sleep, so that he didn't wake the Dursleys; it was lucky he could now use magic outside of school. Last time he woke them up it hadn't been pretty, and there was a lot of shouting and spitting on Vernon Dursley's part. Anyway, he knew he could deal with it on his own. He just had to find the right spell, or potion. Each night, he would scan through every wizarding book he owned, hoping to find an answer. He knew the nightmares weren't normal, since they should have been cured by Dreamless sleep potion, but he also didn't feel like it was Voldemort behind them. It felt like something else.

Harry, deciding against braving another few more hours of tossing and turning, stood up and peered out the window. He'd let Hedwig out tonight, and if he looked carefully, he could see her flying amongst the trees in the distance, her wings spread wide as she dived and twirled, basking in her freedom. Harry envied her- he wished that he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he liked, and he longed for the sense of belonging she possessed. But, he reasoned bitterly, he belonged to the war, just like the rest of his generation, and nothing could stop that. Sighing, he sat down on his bed, glancing at the daily prophet scattered there.

He knew he would be going to the Weasly's in a few weeks- Hermione and Ron had both hinted at it in their letters- and that he would follow the course that Dumbledore had laid out for him. For all of them. But, he wasn't necessarily happy about it. He knew the time he spent there would be full of laughter and love, and he didnt think he could bear that when he knew it was all pointless. Many, if not all of them, were going to die in Voldemort's war- what was the point in pretending to be happy? Harry knew Dumbledore hadn't felt the same way, he was always one for planning even when it seemed hopeless, for boosting moral and trying to be joyful in the darkest times, and Harry had admired that, but still, he found it hard. Half the time he felt like he was just smiling to cover up the fear and pain inside. However, he knew that Dumbledore could sense that, that he could read how Harry was feeling like a book, and Harry knew he had thought about that when he planned the path Harry would take. It was funny how a person could still decide your future, even though they were gone.

Harry lay down, not resisting as his eyes began to close; he decided he didn't care about the dreams, he was just so exhausted by everything, this whole world, this war.

It was just as Harry was being lulled to sleep that a carefully wrapped package was dropped through his window, landing silently onto the carpeted floor. It was not an owl that had dropped the package, but a sleek black hawk with a sliver of silver on his wing. As the Hawk disappeared into the darkness he seemed to cackle with glee, but of course, Harry didn't hear this. He was sleeping.

The next morning when he woke, (nightmare free, thankfully), the package was still there. Harry didn't notice it at first, and only saw it just as he was leaving. He was going to the local chemist to see if they had anything that would stop his nightmares. He knew it was a longshot, but he couldn't stand another night of hell. In the dark rucksack on his back, he'd packed his invisibility cloak, some instant darkness powder, (which had been a birthday present from Ron), a bag full of money (he'd used an undetectable extension charm, as suggested by Hermione), and the marauders map. He knew he was being paranoid, but he had learnt that it never hurt. When he saw the package however, he paused thoughtfully and picked it up, presuming Hedwig had bought it in the night. He examined it and noted there was no note or label. That was strange. He considered whether opening it was worth it, and a tiny voice nagged in the back of his brain that something wasn't right here. He silenced the voice and frowned. What if it was a late birthday gift? Or a message from the Order? What if they couldn't send a inscription in case the ministry would recognise the wording or handwriting? He couldn't just not open it. Biting his tongue in concentration, Harry quickly scribbled down a note and placed it on his chest of drawers. If anything happened, at least people would know why. He hesitated once more, but, his mind made up, he opened the package.

Immediately, a strange object dropped into his hand. It was silver and spiky, with hundreds of shiny peaks protruding from it. Harry squinted at it for a couple of seconds, and in that small time multiple things happened. Firstly, the instrument contracted its spikes, and became a incredibly sleek and tiny silver ball, causing Harrys mouth to drop open in surprise; secondly, that said silver ball launched itself towards Harrys face at lightning speed, before entering his open mouth and burrowing down his throat, and thirdly, Harrys world was thrown upside down. Literally.

It was like something had grabbed his stomach and was flipping it round over and over again. Harry tumbled and span as the world around him blurred into a mass of colour. His head swarmed and he felt like he was being stretched one way, then another, as his body convulsed through the air. Nausea rose up in his stomach as he flailed, and his breath stuck in his throat. He couldn't think straight, couldnt move, and he wondered if he'd ever escape the dizzying blur.

And then it was over.

It was sudden, and Harry landed with a crash. He rolled down the sloped decline he'd arrived on until he hit a tree and finally stopped, falling onto his back. He groaned and turned on his side as he threw up. Today wasn't turning out well. Shaking his head to get rid if the mist that had fogged up his brain, he looked around him. It was evening time- around 8, he would guess, judging by the darkness surrounding him. He didn't understand how so much time could have passed, since it was morning when he left, but he dismissed the strange occurrence for a side effect of the weird instrument. He looked up. Foggy grey clouds hung low in the sky and illuminated the huge bulking castle he knew so well. Hogwarts. The instrument must have transported him here somehow, but he wasn't sure why; he only knew it couldnt be good.

The castle was most probably empty, he didn't think kids were allowed to stay here in summer, and besides, he didn't even know if the school would be open now that Dumbledore was... But, he didn't want to dwell on that. Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, he realised there were dozens of lights on in the castle. He could see them shining through dormitory windows and lining the area outside the huge entrance doors. Why would lights be on now? Something felt... wrong. Harry pulled out his wand and looked around the place he had landed, (close to the lake, which glimmered darkly), and when he saw no sign of life, started to trudge up to the castle. He still felt dizzy, but the effects of the instrument were wearing off. He just wondered how he'd get home, since he didnt have his apparition licence yet, so couldn't apparate, even if he was outside of the school grounds. As he walked up the grassy incline to the entrance hall, rain began to splatter down and Harry cursed his luck. He shivered, and ran the rest of the way; it was freezing, way too cold for summer. But, again, Harry dismissed this as he arrived at the towering, oak doors. A warm feeling had fluttered into his stomach- he was back at the home he never thought he'd be returning to, and for a moment he forgot why or how he was here. The doors were unlocked, thankfully, and Harry slid through them, glancing behind him at the rain which now poured down. The door shut behind him with a quiet thud. Harry expected the castle to feel eerie and silent, and it was quiet, but not in an unsettling way. It still felt like it usually did.

He walked to the great hall entrance, his wand hand steady, and peered inside. It was empty, as it was most evenings, the tables having been cleared away, but warm flames still burnt in their holsters and the ceiling mirrored the darkening sky outside. The air still had the faint smell of a feast, and Harry wondered if he was imagining things, since that was inpossible. He frowned, trying to work out what was going on, but he was pulled from his thoughts abruptly by a screech. "Potter!" Mcgonagall's voice broke through the quiet. "Just what do you think you are doing out of bed?!" She stormed down the stone steps, her face fuming. But underneath the anger, she had the expression of a smug eagle after catching its prey. Harry was extremely confused by her words- he wasn't staying at Hogwarts. The confusion must have shown in his face, because Mcgonogal crossed her arms as she neared him and reprimanded him again. "Don't act like you've done nothing wrong, Potter. You're out of bed after hours. Again." She paused and peered closely at his face, frowning. "You look different." From the close proximity, Harry realised Mcgonogall looked different, also. She seemed a lot younger, with only a scatter of grey hairs and a much smoother complexion.

"So do you, Professor."

"Don't use that cheek with me, Potter." She scolded, scowling. What have you done to your head?"

"My head?" He asked, surprised. She glared.

"If you want to play dumb then fine. I've had it up to here with your nightly escapades. Where are the others, eh? Hiding behind a statue somewhere?" She glanced suspiciously at the surrounding area.

"Professor, I don't..." He was starting to wonder if she'd hit her head. Mcgonogall straitened her robe.

"Ill have none of that nonsense, Potter. Well talk about your change in appearance later. For now, you're coming with me." She strode off, and Harry followed, his head spinning.

"Where are we going, Professor?" He asked, but she didn't reply. They walked along the quiet stone corridors in silence, Harry too afraid to ask again. If there was anything worse than Voldemort, it was Mcgonogall in a bad mood- that woman had the temper of a lion. Eventually, they came to the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry's heart skipped a beat with apprehension just looking at it; he hadn't been here since... No. He'd decided not to think about it.

"Lets see what Professor Dumbledore has to say about this." Said Mcgonogall smartly. Harry stared at her.

"Is this some kind if joke?" He asked, his anger building.

"How dare you, Potter! Go upstairs this instance." She huffed, taking a deep breath. "Peppermint Laces." She said to the steps calmly and looked at Harry pointedly. "Go on." At a loss for words, Harry did as she wished and stepped onto the stairs, his anger building. If Mcgonogall thought talking to Dumbledore's portrait would help anything, then she was mistaken. He didn't know if he could bear seeing the old man's picture hanging on the wall. But, all too soon he arrived at the office. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. What he saw made his heart jump into his throat and his hands shake. There, sat at his old Professors desk was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello Mister Potter." He said, a small smile on his face. His eyes twinkled with humour, but his face soon turned into a frown as he saw that Harry had turned white as a sheet. "James, are you alright?" Harry didn't even take in the words that were coming out of the headmasters mouth. Dumbledore stood up and walked towards harry who was shaking now, but not from fear. Rage poured out of him in waves. "James, I think it would be best if-"

"Get away from me." Snarled Harry, his blood boiling. He directed his wand at the intruders chest. "No matter how much you act like Albus Dumbledore- you're an imposter. Who are you trying to fool? I want answers. Who are you? Why am I here? "

"James-" The intruder spoke calmly.

"Stop calling me that!" Screamed Harry, his control slipping as a vein throbbed in his temple. "Im not called James!"

"Your not?" Frowned the headmaster. He looked at Harry closely, analysing his features, until realisation seeped into his eyes. "Ah. I see. Well then, you are a Potter?"

"Stop playing with me! You know who I am!" Roared Harry.

"Mr Potter, I would appreciate it if you could lower your wand. We have much to discuss." Harry ignored him.

"Why am I here? Answer, or I swear to you-"

"Mr Potter!" Said Dumbledore sternly, making Harry flinch. "I'm sure youre very confused, as am I, but I'm certaim we can both work it out if you sit down. I have shown no sign of aggression towards you, nor am I planning to, so I would ask that you show me the same respect." Dumbledores voice was icy cool, and Harry knew he should listen if he wanted answers. He didn't know what kind of messed up situation he was in, and he knew this would help him understand. The anger drained out if him, taking his energy with it, and he slumped down in the cozy armchair across from Dumbledore's desk.

"Now." Began Dumbledore, sitting down across from him also. "Your name?" Harry sighed.

"You already know my name."

"Just humour me please, Mr Potter. I'm very old." Said the man, a twinkle in his eyes. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Harry. My name's Harry."

"Excellent." The intruder clapped his hands together and smiled. It was an action he had seen Dumbledore do countless times, and Harry's heart twitched with pain. "Now, Harry. I'd like you to begin with how you got here." Harry sighed again, knowing this man was sure to know how he got there, and was mocking him. He clenched his fists, but nevertheless, he answered.

"I got a package. It had no label, and inside was a spiky ball. When I touched it, it contracted and flew in here." He said dryly, pointing to his mouth. "Then it whirled me around and I landed on the grounds by the lake." The imposter frowned, deep in thought.

"I see. And do you have any idea who sent the package, Harry?"

"Nope." Answered Harry, playing the moody teen.

"I see," said the man again. There was a long pause as he tapped the desk, deep in thought. Eventually, he spoke. "Well, Harry, I have a strange question for you."

"Go on."

"What, exactly, do you believe to be the date today?" Asked fake-Dumbledore.

"Its the... 29th of August, I think." Answered Harry, confused.

"And the year?"

"1997."

"Wrong both times I'm afraid, Harry." He said with a wry grin. He looked like he'd just won the lottery.

"What?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed. The intruder in front of Harry sighed.

"Harry do you notice anything about me? Do I look-"

"Younger? Yes." Harry had noticed the difference when he had first set eyes on his deceased headmaster. He still looked old, but not as old as the man he was used to. Fake-Dumbledore nodded, smiling, but Harry didn't see what he was getting at.

"Yes, very good." He leant forwards on the desk, pressing the tips of his fingers together. "You see, Harry, I have reason to believe that the device that bought you here not only forced you to travel back to Hogwarts, but forced you to travel back in time. Years back in time."

"Travel... in time?" Harrys mind span at the thought. "But that's not possible. You can only go back in time using a TimeTurner, and that only sends you back a few hours, or days." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes were suddenly somber.

"I assure you Harry, it is very much possible. Maybe not legal, but possible. I am sorry to inform you that it is November the 2nd, 1976." 1976. Harrys head whirled at the words and he felt sick. Ron, Hermione, Ginny. He had left so much behind. And the war! He had to find the horcruxes, to defeat Voldemort. He couldn't just leave his friends to fend for themselves. Suddenly desperate, he stood up.

"Sir, this can't be possible." He said, running a hand through his messy hair. "I... I have to get home, you have to understand. There's a war, Voldemort-" Dumbledore's eyes were warm and sympathetic, but seeing them just made Harry feel worse.

"I understand, Harry. Sit down. Please." He sighed, sounding incredibly tired- something Harry could relate to- and Harry did as he asked. "I should have guessed the war would still be brewing. Do you have a very big part in it?" Dumbledore's eyes were suddenly curious, and Harry could see that he was interested in the future world.

"I... I'm not sure it would be wise to tell you that, sir. I don't want to mess things up. Im not entirely sure how it all works, time." Dumbledore smiled sadly, disappointed.

"Yes... You are most probably right my boy. You see, I cannot understand the mystery that is time either, although I have investigated the matter vigorously, like countless others before me. Your problem is, no one knows wether time travel will ruin the future, if the past is tampered with. They don't know if it runs in circles, or if the past can be changed. And know one knows what the effects of that would be. That is why it is illegal; the unknown is dangerous.

"However, although we do not know how dangerous it is for you to stay in this time, I'm afraid that's what you'll have to do, for a while at least, until I find a way to send you back." Harry put his head in his hands.

"How long?" He asked.

"I cannot say- a year maybe, at least." Harry groaned, he couldn't stay a year. Voldemort would have killed everyone he knew by then, everyone he loved. "Harry, I advise you not worry too much about the events unfurling at home. Take this time to, ah, relax. Use this as a holiday, of sorts. There's no point worrying about things you have no control over, and I personally believe you were sent here for a reason." His eyes twinkled. "You may also be glad to know another piece of information... Your father is a student here, in this time, just starting his sixth year."

Shock hit Harry squarely in the chest. "My... My Dad?"

"Yes- James Potter I believe. You do share an uncanny resemblance to him."

"So I've heard." Muttered Harry sarcastically, but inside he was trying to contain his excitement. He would meet his parents! James, Lily! He would see a young Remus and... His heart twisted painfully at the thought of Sirius. He'd longed to see him, to talk to him again, but now, the thought of it was too painful. How could he bear to see his godfather again, when he blamed no one but himself for his death? He pushed that thought to the back of his head, and plastered on a smile for Dumbledore.

"Now, I'm guessing you'd like to spend time with your parents here...or do you see to much of them at home?" Humour sparkled in his eyes and Harry realised with a pang that he didn't know. But, of course he didn't, he reasoned with himself. It had'nt happened yet; How could he?

"No, I'd like to see as much of them as possible please."

"You shall be in their dorm then." He looked down his nose at Harry, with a knowing smile. "Gryffindor I assume?"

"Through and through." Harry said proudly. Dumbledore laughed, a quiet, warmsound.

"You're very much like your father, I can see. And you're almost his twin in looks... apart from your eyes, that is."

"I have my mothers eyes." Harry smiled.

"Ahh. And might that be who I think it is?"

"I believe so, Professor," replied Harry, grinning for the first time since he arrived.

"I always knew she'd come round." Laughed the professor. "Now we'll have to do something about the name and the backstory, and maybe change the hair?" He suggested.

"No Sir, please. I'd like to keep my appearance the same if I could." If he was meeting his parents for the first time, he wanted to be himself, completely. Dumbledore studied him for a moment before nodding. Harry sensed he knew he had reasons deeper than vanity for his request.

"Okay. I think you can choose your own story, but once you have, try and stick to it or it becomes complicated. As for your name, I think Harry Chalk will suffice, don't you?" Harry nodded keenly in response. "Do you know of James's friend in your time? The, ah, Marauders, I believe they call themselves." His expression showed he thought them humorous instead of daft. Harry nodded again, this time not trusting himself to speak.

Dumbledore lowered his voice. "And you know of me?"

"Yes... Yes sir." Harry said, his throat tightening,

"Now Harry, I assume by your reaction when you first entered my office, that I am not currently... present, shall we say?" Harry swallowed. This was dabferous territory, but he fought against his instinct to lie, Dumbledore was smart, he would not try and change the information if it put others at risk.

"That would be correct sir." There was a pause, as Dumbledores eyes bored into his.

"Were we close, Harry?" He asked, his expression soft.

"Yes." Harry replied, quietly, as he bowed his head. Dumbledore nodded, his eyes sad.

"Well then, I'm very sorry." There was another pause, where Dumbledore looked at Harry as if he could read his every thought. He lowered his voice. "Don't worry about me Harry, I promise you death does not scare me in the slightest. In fact, I welcome it."

Harry sighed. "As do I professor."

Dumbledore stood,and Harry mimicked him as they walked to the door. Before he opened it, however, Dumbledore stopped.

"If you don't mind me saying Harry, you're a very intriguing person. I can see a lot of darkness in your eyes, as though you have seen many horrors. You are quiet, and seem to burden yourself instead of others, wishing to keep your problems to yourself rather than share. Yet you radiate power."

Harry was surprised, but a steely look entered his eyes and he places his hand on his Professors shoulder. "With great power cones great responsibility, and with great love, cones great pain." Harry said firmly.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, his eyes serious. "I can see you're very wise, Harry, but everyone needs help sometimes. If you ever need any one to talk to-"

"I know where to come." Harry finished with a smile. "Thanks Professor."

"My pleasure Harry. Now, I believe you know the way to the dorm rooms. I think Professor Mcgonogall is still downstairs, waiting very impatiently, I assume. If you could send her up, so I can fill in the blanks, I would be very grateful.

"Certainly, Professor." The boy replied. And Harry left the office he'd thought he'd enter again, saying goodbye to the man he'd thought was lost to him.