Sow a thought, and you reap an act;
Sow an act, and you reap a habit;
Sow a habit, and you reap a character;
Sow a character, and you reap a destiny

-Charles Reade


Author Notes: In order to not get confused, baby Harry in the following chapters will be called "past-Harry."

Chapter Five

Homecoming

Harry Apparated with a crack in front of his childhood Godric's Hollow home. He quickly slipped out of sight into the shadow of a large tree. He checked the time and realized he had more to spare than he had originally thought. The October air moved through his hair, spread his bangs, and he felt the cool wind touch his scar.

He almost expected the fading mark to prickle in a world where Voldemort was still alive, but it couldn't. He was no longer a Horcrux, no longer connected to the Dark Lord. He was thankful for it, and he would never have to be a Horcrux if things went as planned tonight.

But what was the plan? Once again, Harry wished there had been more time to consider it, but he was not so fortunate. The moment was coming swiftly whether he was prepared or not. The best he could figure, his main objective, was to get Voldemort as far as possible from Godric's Hollow. Once that was accomplished, he would worry about the rest, such as staying alive and capturing Voldemort.

Another question joined the long list he already had. How would he manage to survive? On every other occasion he had faced his enemy, some kind of assistance had always come. His mother's protection helped more time than he could count, there had been Fawkes in the Chamber, Dumbledore, even his own wand had aided his victory. He had to face it: sheer dumb luck and convenient coincidences had been a huge part of his success. But tonight, what could possibly come to his rescue?

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. From the concealment of his hiding place, Harry looked towards the entrance and what he saw made his blood boil.

Wormtail was standing in the doorframe, illuminated by the light from the house, and was holding Harry's past-self. The infant giggled loudly as James and Lily appeared in the frame behind him.

"Hey, Snitch," James called to his son, "let go of Wormtail's finger. You're going to rip it off." James worked on prying past-Harry's tiny grip apart.

"Wormy!" past-Harry cooed.

Lily reached for her child and Wormtail gladly handed him back to her. "Thanks for checking up on us, Peter," Lily said. "Are you sure you can't stay any longer?"

"No, there are things I have to do," Wormtail replied, a slight tremble in his voice.

"Say goodnight to Wormtail, Harry," James said.

Past-Harry waved playfully to the man who had betrayed them. "Bye, Wormy!" James and Lily both shared an affectionate laugh, bid their Secret-Keeper goodnight, and closed the door behind Wormtail.

Wormtail took several nervous steps away from the door, glanced back at the house, and stopped. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. He pulled his wand from his pocket and whispered, "It's time." As he pressed the tip of his wand against the mark, he gasped.

Harry realized he might have missed his moment. If Wormtail had not called his master, Voldemort would not have come. Then again, this was the one of the only times he would know exactly where Voldemort would be. It didn't matter anymore because Wormtail had begun his transformation into his horrid rat form.

Had Wormtail been here this evening in the original timeline? Surely he had, Harry concluded, because Harry's presence could not have affected anything major yet. Perhaps it was Wormtail who later retrieved Voldemort's wand, maybe even assisted the decrepit spectral form of his master when the killing curse destroyed his body.

The curtain, which had been closed before, was pulled open. James, holding past-Harry, stood at the window. With his free hand, he lifted the window up. He pointed into the sky and asked, "Harry, do you remember what that star is called?"

Harry shifted in his hiding place to get a better look at the scene, snapping a twig in the process. James didn't notice, but past-Harry's attention turned towards the noise. He stared curiously towards the sound, not even bothering to pretend to listen to his father.

When his son didn't answer, James responded, "Come on, Snitch. I taught you this yesterday. The dog star. Your godfather was named after it." He patted his son on the head.

Harry could feel the emotion rise up inside of him. How many more moments like this would be possible if he saved his parents tonight? He would be a happy infant and be treated with humanity, as opposed to be being abused with the Dursleys. "It's worth it," Harry whispered.

"You know," James said, trying to capture his son's attention again, "some people say our destinies are written up there, in the stars…"

"James," Lily's voice floated out the window, "you know he doesn't like that fortune-telling mumble-jumble."

"He should at least learn it, Lily. Isn't that fortune-telling mumble-jumble what got us here in the first place?"

"Not to mention, it's chilly outside," Lily countered. "I don't what him catching a cold. Why don't you close the window and show him that smoke and wand trick again. He likes that."

"Hi, Harry!" past-Harry called out in almost unintelligible speak.

Harry backed further into the shadows as James laughed. "Smoke and wand trick it is," he said, pulling the window down and sitting with his son on the sofa. When James began puffing the smoke with his wand, past-Harry began laughing.

Harry would have gotten lost in the tender scene if he didn't suddenly remember how close Voldemort would be by now. He scanned the sidewalk, looking from left to right, trying to recall which way Voldemort had come. He didn't want to allow his enemy so close to the home-base, but it might not make much of a difference. He still had the element of surprise. It might not buy him much time, but it might be just enough. After all, Voldemort had used the same tactic when he made his homicidal house call. Harry was sure that if his parents had been prepared, they would have survived.

The Autumn chill sent shivers through him as he waited. He dared not move for fear he wouldn't hear the approaching footsteps of the assassin. A few leaves dropped slowly from the branches. The red and orange of the Fall-change settled on the pavement and steadily moved across the ground.

As Harry observed them, he saw long, black fabric sweep across his line of sight. He stifled a noise of recognition. Voldemort paused at the gate and peered inside towards James and past-Harry. The man had already become incredibly distorted. With his hand on the gate, Voldemort pressed on.

Harry took his chance. Only three steps were between him and Voldemort. The creak of the gate drowned out the sound of his feet slapping the pavement. Voldemort turned just as Harry was upon him. He grabbed the Dark Lord in a tight embrace and Disapparated away from Godric's Hollow, leaving the unsuspecting Potter family happy and content in their ignorance.