Far away, both in time and space, four young boys huddled together under a cloak, concealed by magic, sprinting back up to Hogwarts castle. Rain was splattering all over them, only the middle two didn't get soaked.
"Moony," gasped a boy with untidy, black hair, a thin face and hazel eyes. "How could you mess up the schedule for the full moon? That's your job."
A boy with a pale face glanced at him. "I don't know what happened. It was supposed to be tonight. Something is wrong." He frowned slightly.
"Yeah, well, the moon just doesn't decide to not show up," the raven-haired spat.
"Calm yourself, Prongs," said the handsome boy, hair prompted gracefully on his slick face. "It's not Moony's fault, just a mistake." He grinned.
"Maybe this isn't such a bad thing. We have tests, I mean, it's our sixth year, we should actually be trying…" the pointed-nosed boy with black eyes said nervously. Silence followed this comment, backed up quickly with laughter.
"Good one, Wormtail."
"Well," the one dubbed 'Prongs' started, "I had just been looking so forward to the first full moon this year. I've missed it." They had all missed it. They had missed sneaking out from Professor McGonagall's nose, into the full moon. They had missed being animals: a stag, a dog, a rat, and a werewolf… well, not the werewolf as much.
"I was looking forward to it too," Moony confessed. Three of the other boys turned to face him, shocked. "What? Is that such a crime? It's harder at home without you three." They grinned, sharing a common bond between them. A bond, which would be broken very soon.
The boys found their way back to their beds, snuggled deep inside the warm, cotton covers. Lightning flashed outside. Silver clouds whirled in small tornados, covering the moon. This sight was so similar to the one Harry had seen twenty years before this that one could say it was the same one. They would be right.
Hurtling… falling through the sky. Harry heard his father's voice.
"Harry. Is this what you want?"
"Is wh-what like I want?" Harry's voice came in clear out of the harmonic echoes.
"You're not happy." It was a statement. Harry nodded. "Do you want to be happy?"
"Yes." Harry said definely. With these words escaping his lips, the sky opened up and he was whipped through.
Harry was screaming, the neck of his nightgown soaked with sweat. He felt his neck prickle over and over. Pain mounting on top of pain. It stopped.
"You okay over there?" A gruff voice asked him. The sky was dark. Harry glanced around. Was he at Hogwarts? Yes. He answered himself. I'm in the bedroom.
"I'm fine." He said, sitting up and rubbing his scar. His… scar? He didn't feel anything on his forehead. He sprang up and ran to the mirror, turning on the light as he went. Three pairs of voices asking of explanation.
"What are you doing?"
"Come ON, we have tests tomorrow, dumbass."
Harry gasped. The face looking back at him wasn't his own. Baby blue eyes had replaced his green ones. He was no longer a marked man. He gazed down at his hands. They were no longer gangly, but strong and masculine. What the hell has happened to me?
