Alright, so I am back with a new chapter :D

Whoa… this is amazing… I was expecting only a couple reviews with some follows and favs… but not this much! I can't describe how amazing you guys are :D. This chapter would have been up eariler, but I've been working everyday, and now I'm currently in pain due to a tattoo and recently stubbing my toe after chasing a large dog... so that's fun lol.

So now I'm going to answer some reviews since I think I should address some issues for the readers to see, as well:

geetac: Thank you! :D

Thinker90: Yes, they are the author of Time to Put Your Galleons Where Your Mouth Is. I loved the original :D

sierra. steinbrecher: I know, I was back and forth on the age gap for Terry and James, whether make Terry much older (say… 6 years), or only slightly older. It was probably literally a minute before I decided to make Terry only two years older than James, so that Terry can keep an eye on James up until his fifth year at Hogwarts. And thank you :D. It's good, right? I'll have a look at your audiobook too :D

Guest: Thanks. Hmm… darn… It never occurred to me that this would come out as Anti-Gryffindor. I'll be sure to work on that. My idea was to show that, after not being in Hogwarts for so long, he may not want to experience it again through the eyes of a Gryffindor student. However, this is AU, so I'll see how it plays out. I'll try to lower the criticism as much as I can.

harryislife: Yes, I love the "sequel", even though it's only at two chapters XD. I'm hoping to have James and Lily's relationship start off better (haven't decided when exactly... he won't be much of a jerk in fifth year, I hope). As for Harry's house... you'll just have to wait ;)

Alright, so here's chapter 2 :)

July 31, 1958

St. Mungo's Hospital

England

Harry wished that, for once, he wasn't born with that ridiculous scar.

In the one where he had been born a girl named Hendrika, the daughter of a sixteen-century lord and lady, he still had the same jet-black hair and oval-shaped bright green eyes that he had been born with in his first life. That being said, and Harry was glad that he was back to being a male again, almost all of his passed lives either bared similar appearances to his first life, or of slightly different appearance (mostly in his height or weight, and yet he always went back to that tall, skinny body).

And even the date, which Harry soon found out, of his first birth was the same… in the life that he was born as a nobleman of Scotland, his birth had fortold of a legendary man who would conquer the eastern western world. Well, he hadn't exactly conquered it, but he was able to go to America (where, even in his first lifetime he had wanted to at least visit) and started a lineage of wizards there, too, after marrying a Native with magic.

With those similarities… he still had that blasted scar. Every life time, it seemed, that he was cursed with that dang lightning scar. Some of his past lives' family saw this as a sign that he would become great leaders and wizards, while others saw the scar as a Dark Mark. Harry remembered having an untimely death at the age of six due to a Muggle village insisting that he was the Boogeyman or something. Ever since then, Harry made sure that he and Death discussed to which time (and universe) he would like to be in… with the exception of his own timeline.

Of course, the first thing he heard when he was entering his new life as a Potter again was:

"My dear lord! Mr Potter! Look!"

There must have been some scrambling, due to the sound of shuffling feet. He tried to look around, to see what the commotion was about (of course, he knew what the commotion was, he just didn't see what the point of showing his scar of many lifetimes to the people who would be his new family). As per usual, he couldn't see anything (and he had an inkling feeling that he was in a place where he really wished he wasn't).

"Son of Gryffindor! Euphemia!"

A voice that sounded more from an old man, rather than his future father (and, in his first lifetime, his grandfather). What was his name again? Something with fleas, I think…

"Fleamont Potter! What's wrong with the baby?" a worried woman asked.

Ah. Fleamont. Poor lad.

Harry didn't even try to cry. He found it hilarious, after reincarnating for so long now, to not cry at the exposure of outside a uterus. In his mind, he was only in that place for… perhaps a minute, and he didn't see what the commotion was. Yea, it was cold compared to the minute of warmth, but having the people delivering him in all his past timelines soon became enjoyable in trying to figure out why he wouldn't scream for the life of him. Yea, like that one where I was born in the Muggle village….

"Nothing, my dear Mia, er, he's just not... crying."

"Monty, I swear, if you did something-"

"Calm down, Mr and Mrs Potter," the first voice said. Harry didn't recognize who it was (definitely not his parents… or grandparents… man, this was going to take some time to get used to….). He did notice that the voice was high-pitched, so it must have been a woman's voice. Probably a healer, or the magic equivalent of a midwife. "You have a healthy, baby boy. And I've heard of this type of scar: it means that this boy will be destined with great things."

If Harry could laugh in his infant body, then he would.

"Gomney, send a letter to Charlus, I want him to know that we finally have a son!" Fleamont Potter shouted in happiness. Harry wasn't sure what Gomney was, but he soon pieced together that it was the name of the Potter family house-elf. Because what sensible human being names their child Gomney, or Winky, or Dobby? It didn't occur to him that his grandparents ever owned a house-elf (or house-elves), since he didn't know much about them. Then again, Potter was an old House, and considerably rich, due to Linfred's valuable Potion-making (and known for potting his plants, which gave him the nickname the Potterer).

As for the name Charlus...He wasn't exactly sure where exactly he heard the name before... He first thought that his first grandparents were the Charlus and Dorean Potter that some people had discussed in his first life. However, after death, he found out that his grandparents had been Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. However, he did hope that these Potters were his first or second cousins, and have the chance to have a cousins who wasn't using him as his personal punching bag (aka Dudley...)

Soon, Harry was wrapped in a warm blanket (God, did it have to be so itchy? Harry thought), and handed to, whom he assumed was, Euphemia Potter.

It felt like ages since he was in the presence of, considerably, loving parents. If only he could remember his first life, as a newborn, to be able to take in the sweet love of James and Lily Potter. Now, he will settle with his grandparents' love, which Harry was certain that would give him better the live that he had with the Dursleys.

"Monty… his birthmark… why is it a lightning bolt?" Euphermia asked.

Harry could feel the sensation of a very large hand rubbing his jet-black hair (well, Harry assumed it was jet-black; he was a Potter again, after all). Surprisingly, it was... nice. It was loving, even. "I've heard of people throughout history with having a lightning bolt scar; it's a good sign. It means that he will become a great wizard."

"Are you sure, Monty? I don't want our son to be ridiculed for having a scar like this."

"Well, er, it's still a good thing." Harry understood perfectly what his new father's tone was: uncertainty. Even his infant ears could pick that up. "But... now to name him... what do we name such a miracle as he is, when we thought we couldn't bear children?"

A long moment raised between the Potters.

"Terrell. After my father," Euphemia stated.

"And maybe Henry, after mine?" Fleamont asked.

"What's wrong with Fleamont?" she asked. "I think Terrell Fleamont Potter has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Everything is wrong with Fleamont, Mia. Do you know how much I used to get teased with having that name? I don't want my son to have to share it." He sighed. "My father only named me Fleamont in honor of my mother, before she died in childbirth, since she was the last of the Fleamonts."

"Then carry on that tradition with naming your son after her," Euphemia suggested.

"I refuse to."

"I like it."

"Mia, I swear-"

"Don't you swear at me, Fleamont Henry Potter!"

Again, Harry desperately wished that he could laugh.

August 15, 1963

"Do the dance again, Terry!"

Watching his brother do the magic (even though James didn't understand how his brother could create those charms with his hands), he could not help but giggle with excitement. This was his favourite pastime, watching Terry make the little figures of the tin soldiers move on their own, as though they were going into battle. It was not like the chess games that he had seen Dada play with Septy during the summer vacations, where the pieces only spoke or did damage after being vocally commanded to.

Terry's tin soldiers made them dance.

James laughed as the soldiers moved around him, riding on broomsticks around him and in the sky. He held his hand up in the air; he wished that he could fly with those little toy soldiers. One soldier waved around his hand and swerved across the boy's palms. It landed in James' palm and bowed to the boy. James, giggling, nodded back. Without a word from either of them, the soldier jumped back on his broomstick and joined his fellow brothers in the air again.

"Terry, how do you do this?" James asked, questionably. "How do you make the dance with the soldiers without a wand like Mamma and Dada?" Every time their parents portrayed magic, he always saw them use wands. Well, there was the exception of Dada's potions that he made up sometimes... when the older people came in to ask him questions about his Hair-Growing Potion.

His older brother, only five years old and could control his "accidental magic" without the use of a wand... only shrugged. "I guess I've had some practice, Jim." James, although only allowed his brother to call him Jim, and was only three... could not help but sense the hint of humor in his tone. "Hey, wanna see something?" Terry asked, holding up his hand.

James nodded excitedly; he could never get enough of his brother's tricks.

"Well, you two are being quiet in here... what's going-"

CRASH!

James and Terry's eyes darted to their room door, where their pale-ridden Mama was frozen still at the door. The younger brother's eyes went down to where the crashing noise came from: broken plates. That's funny... Mama never lets us break the plates. He always heard her tell the boys to not "jump around" the china, as the plates were "hundreds of hundreds" years old.

"What's the matter, Momma?" James asked. What did he and Terry do to scare their mother? He looked over at the soldiers, which were now suspended in midair. Maybe she hadn't seen the soldiers flying around them. Maybe she just needed to see them. Momma likes to use magic, too... Terry's magic should be normal for her. "Terry can make the toys fly, just like you and Dadda."

Their mother's eyes were the only thing that moved for a long time. James was starting to worry, worry that maybe Terry was in trouble for making the soldier's dance. But their mom did nothing; he didn't think that she would. Although remarkably older than some other witch mothers, she still had her moments of sternful teaching over at her sons.

"Um... yes, I can see that," their mother said, nodding. "Yes... I see..." Slowly, she walked over to the two brothers and lightly touched one of the soldiers that was by her height. "Terry, did you... make them levitate?"

Terry tilted his head. "Levi... tate? You mean flying?"

James nearly giggled. He knew that Terry knew of all the "big words" that the adults used, and seemed to understand what they were saying. To hear Terry act... less smart was funny to him. "He was making the soldiers dance, Momma."

"Terrell," Momma said sternly, but in a quiet tone. She bent down to her sons' level. "Are you doing this, or is someone helping you?"

The older Potter son nodded his head slowly.

"You absolutely sure?"

"I can make them disappear, too," Terry said. Without much of a wink, they left the room. James clapped. "And, I also made a snake do lots of tricks for me, but I don't think he enjoyed it, since he slithered away and muttering about how humans were weird."

Their mother laughed. "Well, snakes have always been strange, I will say-" she stopped. "Wait... did you say you heard it speak?"

"Yes," Terry said. He did not show the same expression of worry and surprise as Momma did. "He even asked me how I could speak to snakes, when no one in the family could ever do that-"

"No, Terrell... I... I mean, how? Did you hear someone talk to snakes? Did someone teach you how to do this?"

James' eyes were back on Terry. From what he could understand... talking to snakes was a bad thing. He recalled, not many days ago, when he saw Terry sitting outside with a gardener's snake, and making strange sounds with his mouth. James could have sword that Terry was actually hissing at the snake. But what was wrong with it... first the floating toy soldiers, and now the ability to talk to snakes?

"No." Terry made the soldiers appear again. "I just... know."

Their mother stayed quiet again. "Well, I... I'll have to talk to your father, when he comes home from the Quiddich match..." she started to walk out the boys' room and down the stairs when the boys heard: "Gomney! Clean the broken plates upstairs!"

"Why is talking to snakes bad?" James asked, once their mother was heard going to the kitchen downstairs and starting to cook. "Momma made it sound terrible..."

"Some wizards don't like snake-talkers... they're called Parselmouths," Terry explained. James made an ooo sound. "And what the language is Parseltongue... and it usually only can work if you know how to use it."

James gleamed in admiration of what his brother knew. "Could I learn Parthel... Parsel... mouth, too?"

"Parsel-tongue," Terry corrected. "And maybe... only a few words. I don't think Momma would want anyone to know that I have the ability to speak Parseltongue."

"But why?"

"I'll tell you when you're my age, okay?" Terry said, ruffling his brother's hair, with a smile on his face.

James frowned. "That's not fair. I'll never be your age... you'll always be two years older than me!"

I was originally going to add Charlus and Dorean Potter as the parents of these Potters, who were thought to be James' parents. Reading up on Pottermore, I found that Dorean is actually nee Black, and would have been considered a blood traitor if she married into the Potter family.

Another thing... I'm trying to keep this as close as I can (in terms of the background) to what J.K Rowling had established in the books and on Pottermore. So here, the Potters are considered blood traitors and this is why they are not part of the Twenty-Eight (the remaining pure-blood wizards up until the late 1920's). This doesn't include Charlus Potter, who is not closely related enough to Fleamont Potter to be considered a blood traitor... perhaps by several centuries, I assume.

*Update: I am making Charlus and Fleamont brothers in this... the name that I used in place of Charlus was Arthur Weasley's father, Septimus. I apologize for the confusion; I just so happen to change my mind lol (however, Dorean will still be a Black, just not related to Euphemia directly).

Updated: June 7, 2016