Disclaimer: It all, unfortunately, is the property of the lovely master of story telling, JK Rowling. But I'll just kinda borrow the characters for a little while…

Not really sure where I'm going with this actually…I'm in the middle of a bigger project about Hermione and Snape, this is just kind of a little side thing to keep the creative juices flowing…I'm not anticipating this being overly long or anything. But we shall see.

Also…this will not follow the happenings of Half-Blood Prince, just fyi.

Chapter 1

Harry Potter stood at the gate, gazing up at the school he had called home for nearly seven years. Five years later, the castle looked about the same as it always had. Harry knew, however, that the people inside the building were very changed. They had suffered terrible loses during the long and bitter war that had raged for three years, during Harry's fifth, sixth, and seventh years at Hogwarts. The war that had ended in the spring before Harry was due to graduate. The war that Harry had ended. And the war that had claimed Harry's life.

Or so everyone thought.

It was August, just after Harry's twenty-third birthday. Term was due to start in less than two weeks.

Harry remembered vividly the battle that had ravaged the school grounds and the village of Hogsmeade. Only recently had his new mentor managed to teach him to remember the battle without reliving it. It had been a long time of recuperation, but Harry was ready now. Well, almost ready. Had he truly been ready, he would not be standing with his face pressed against the bars of the shut gate, reminiscing about his school years. He would not be standing there with a face that was not even his. They had thought it for the best that, while reappearing for the first time when thought dead, Harry changed his appearance. People would either panic with the belief there was dark magic involved, or think he was an imposter, masquerading as the dead boy-who-lived. His identity would be revealed in time.

The last five years had been years of painful recovery for Harry, physically and mentally. After defeating Voldemort, seriously wounded, Harry had apparated with no clear destination or even purpose in mind. It was simply what he knew he had to do. And so he found himself, on the brink of death, suddenly in the care of a little old man, a hermit of sorts, who declared he had been expecting him all along. Harry had slipped in to unconsciousness and, upon wakening, found he could remember nothing more than vague impressions and images from his life to that point. The man calmly explained this was his mind's way of dealing with intense trauma, and his memories would return once he was ready to remember them.

And they did. It took the better part of a year, but finally he remembered everything. The happy things came first: Ron and Hermione, winning the house and quidditch cups, the rest of the Weasley family; then came memories of the Dursleys, the Chamber of Secrets, times Harry had escaped Voldemort. Then came the truly painful things; Sirius' death, Cedric's death, the memory of his parent's deaths. And then Harry was finally forced to deal with what had happened to him and those he loved the night he appeared at the cottage of the expecting old man. He was horrified, not only with the things that had happened to those he knew, but also with those things which he had done. He had killed a person for the first time in his life. That power disturbed him, even though he realized it was merely in the defense of those he loved.

Bernard- the old man who cared for him- spent five years helping Harry regain his mental and physical stability. Aside from a few scars that hadn't been there before, Harry looked, and behaved, much the same way since before the battle. He was much more mature now though- wizened well beyond his twenty-three years. Harry had been through more in just twenty years than most people endure in a lifetime.

Bernard was never very explicit when Harry asked questions.

"How did I end up here? Did you call me?"

"You are here because it was meant to be. Now continue your meditation, you still have five minutes."

He had, however, indulged Harry by keeping him somewhat informed of his friends. And by letting him know that he was assumed to be dead. Harry never knew how Bernard knew any of these things. The best guess he could come up with was that he was a diviner of sorts, a real one, unlike Sibyl Trelawney. He never saw Bernard use any types of magic, though he was obviously very knowledgeable of the wizarding world. Harry got the impression that Bernard was of the belief that magic was an easy way out, cheating of a sort, and he preferred to do things the long, yet more fulfilling way.

Bernard had been warning Harry for the past few months that his time to leave was drawing near.

"You think I am ready?" Harry had asked when he first brought the matter about.

"What I think has little to do with anything," Bernard had reprimanded. "It is when you know you are ready."

And so, Harry now found himself gazing longingly, yet apprehensively, at Hogwarts school, under a concealing charm to avoid recognition, and with a false set of identification papers, under which he was a twenty-five year old who had graduated eight years ago from a small, little known school, in the country of Switzerland, that had conveniently closed a year after his graduation because of Voldemort's rising activity.

"Follow your heart." So Bernard had said. Well his heart had led him right back to the place it had all started. Now, unsure what to do next, Harry found a nice place a few yards off the path where he sat down and closed his eyes. Using concentration techniques he had perfected in the last few years, he cleared his mind and willed it to show him the next step of his journey. He did not have long to wait; a sudden voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Erm…are you lost?"

Harry gazed up in to a pair of dark blue eyes belonging to a short, slightly pudgy young man with a kindly, though mildly confused, expression. He realized with a start that he knew this person, but carefully trained his face not to give away this recognition.

"Only in the mental sense," was his cryptic but good-humored reply. He stood up and offered his hand. "James Sevanski." This was the name upon his false records.

The other man took his hand and shook it. "Neville Longbottom." Harry already knew this of course.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Longbottom. Are you heading up to the school?"

"Please, it's Neville, and yes. I was just picking up a few things in the village. Term starts entirely too soon, we're all rushing about to make sure everything is prepared for the students, come September."

"Oh, are you a professor?" Harry asked, not able to keep all the surprise out of his voice.

"Why, you'd better believe it," rang out a second clear voice from down the path. "Best dang professor in the school. I simply can't believe how the enthusiasm for herbology has grown since our days in Hogwarts." The young woman stopped purposely in front of Harry and shook his hand, her left arm weighed down by bags full of books. "Hermione Granger, arithmancy professor."

Harry stared at her for a moment and had to kick himself mentally for seeming rude. "James," he said breathlessly, "James Sevanski. Traveler."

"Pleasure," she said, and turned her attention to Neville. "We really should hurry, Albus expects us for dinner in twenty minutes, we spent more time in the Three Broomsticks than we intended." Her attention then shifted back to Harry. "Would you care to join us?"

Harry smiled but shook his head. "No, thank you. I should be on my way down to the village, I need to find myself a room for the night. And I wouldn't want to impose upon you."

"Nonsense," Hermione interrupted, "Hogwarts has always prided itself on its hospitality, and it wouldn't be a bother at all. Especially considering the students are not even back yet for term."

At this point, Harry just didn't want to appear rude. So he accepted the invitation. "As long as you're sure."

SCENE

Sitting once more among his friends and mentors, Harry struggled to remind himself that he was not really Harry. Not yet, at least. He could not explain his hesitation to keep his identity hidden. He supposed he just really wanted to gauge what everyone's reactions would be to discover the boy-who-lived did in fact live. He feared their anger and resentment over his disappearance, and rejection of his return. What if they blamed him for everything that had gone wrong the night Voldemort fell? And so he sat and watched and listened, taking in little bits from all the conversations, ranging from serious discussion to playful banter. He gazed around the table and considered each person in turn.

There was Neville, possibly the most surprisingly changed person present. He had gone from a fearful, bumbling student to a confident and engaging young man.

There was Hermione, hardly changed at a glance, but Harry sensed a deeper darkness within her. He felt a stab of guilt, wondering if this had anything to do with his 'death'.

Albus Dumbledore seemed younger to Harry than he remembered, probably because he was not consumed with work defeating Voldemort every waking moment. But when Neville had introduced him, Harry thought he was missing something of the sparkle he used to have in his eye when he smiled.

Harry had been truly surprised to be introduced to Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for 'the longest amount of time we've had one in twenty years,' as Hermione put it. Harry wondered how they got that appointment past the school governors after it became public nearly ten years ago that Remus was a werewolf.

It was this line of thinking that put Harry in to panic mode. How much did he really miss during the last five years? Maybe Remus was some kind of war hero that the governors did not wish to offend. Maybe some sort of partial human discrimination legislation was passed, enabling Remus to find work. Maybe someone found a cure for lycanthropy. And if one of these things had occurred, who knew what else had happened? Bernard had kept him minimally informed of important happenings, but Harry realized that, beyond knowing who the current Minister of Magic was, there was quite a lot he had missed out on.

"James? Are you alright?"

Harry was startled once more out of his thoughts by Neville.

"Yeah," he breathed, "sorry. Just kind of lost in thought."

"There are worse places to be lost," Dumbledore interjected amicably. "In any case, if you are not too busy with your ponderings, I was merely wondering if you'd like to have some tea with me in my office before you went to sleep? I'd enjoy hearing of your travels, if you don't mind sharing them."

Follow your heart. This sounded like what he should do, so Harry agreed to Dumbledore's request and followed him, accompanied by Hermione Granger, with whom Dumbledore was still in deep conversation, down the winding corridors of Hogwarts school, careful not to seem as if he knew where he was going in the school he had lived in and loved for seven years.

SCENE

"I was very sorry to hear about the closing of the Bartholomeus school," Dumbledore said sincerely. "Headmaster Treboux was a good friend of mine a long time ago. We fought against Grindelwald together."

"Yes, it was indeed a sad day when I heard the news," Harry agreed. "But what else could he have done? Bartholomeus did not have the extensive protection afforded to Hogwarts, and the risks of death eaters attacking increased every year. I was a member of a small resistance force, but we did not have nearly the numbers to protect the school." Five years of meditation had taught Harry how to close his mind against occlumency as well.

Dumbledore inclined his head in agreement. "Of course the safety of the students is essential and must always remain the first priority. I can not tell you how difficult it was to ensure the safety of students here before Voldemort was killed. Especially with the presence of Harry Potter, the school became even more of an obvious target. Even now we get some renegade death eater activity in the area, mostly deranged former servants of the dark lord who pose no threat, but we must always be cautious."

"Ah, yes, of course," Harry said wryly. "Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived. His loss was mourned by wizards and witches throughout the world."

Hermione spoke up for the first time in a while. "You know they never found-…" she was cut off by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore called.

Two people came in to the room and Hermione let out a squeal of excitement. She jumped out of her seat and dashed to the door, embracing both in turn. Harry was hardly surprised to see the friendly embrace exchanged with the taller and younger person- Ronald Weasley. It was when Hermione turned to the other, hugged him, and even received a small kiss on the cheek in return, that Harry was floored with shock. It was Severus Snape. A much nicer, cleaner, more agreeable looking Severus Snape. Hugging Harry's best friend. The one that had annoyed him mercilessly as his student.

"James, may I introduce Ron Weasley and Severus Snape?" He gestured to each in turn. "Ron, Severus, this is James Sevanski, he is traveling from Switzerland and decided to stay the night with us after bumping in to Neville and Hermione in Hogsmeade." Harry shook each of their hands. Dumbledore suddenly became more serious. "How did it go? Did you find out anything?"

He directed this question at Snape, who looked uncertainly from Dumbledore to 'James' a few times. Harry understood his hesitancy to answer the question in front of a stranger, so he decided to save them from an awkward moment.

"I hate to leave you at such an early hour," Harry apologized, "but I am quite worn out from my long day. I do believe it is time for me to head back down to the village." Harry had found his way out; he would slip away that night, wait a few days, and return as Harry, now that he knew a little more about what he was getting in to. No one would ever hear from 'James Sevanski' again.

"-Show you to your room."

Harry had not been paying attention as Hermione was speaking.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that."

She smiled at him. "I said, come with me, I'll show you to your room."

"Oh." He faltered a bit. "Of course. Thank you. That would be lovely."

And they left the room together. Harry wondered just how deep this was going to go.

SCENE

"You musn't jump to conclusions, Hermione," Dumbledore reassured her.

"No, she is right," Snape spoke up quietly from the corner. "There is something about him, I could just sense it for a moment. He is not being entirely truthful about something."

"He's from a Swiss school with a Russian name and a British accent, surely something would alert you that there may be a little more here than he's letting on!" Hermione was getting a bit worked up about this. "And I'm telling you, he knows his way around this school! He knew exactly where I was taking him, he stopped at the portrait before I did!"

Snape turned to Dumbledore earnestly. "Believe me, Albus. I spent the better part of twenty years as a spy, forced to lie to save my very life. He may pass your occlumency test, but that tells us nothing save that he is a skilled occlumens."

Dumbledore held up his hands for silence and calm. "I have the perfect solution. It should at least resolve some of your worries. I still keep in occasional contact with the former headmaster of the Bartholomeus school in Switzerland. I will write him and see just what he can tell me of a student named James Sevanski."

He looked at each of the others in the room in turn. "I trust," he said sternly, "that you will treat James kindly, despite your concerns, for the duration of his stay." They all knew immediately that it was an order, not a request.

SCENE

A/N: So, whaddya think? It's a little bizarre, I know, not my normal writing style (I don't think)…but the mood struck, and who am I to deny my muse?

The inspiration for this story actually came from one a read a few years ago and just remembered last week…but I can't find it! That's part of the reason I wanted to write my own somewhat similar story. If this sounds familiar to you by any chance, let me know: The story I'm thinking of, everyone thought Harry and Voldemort killed each other in the final battle, but actually neither of them died. It's a few years later and Harry goes back to Hogwarts in disguise (possibly under the name James?) and ends up staying at Hogwarts I think. Also- he is being 'haunted' by Draco's ghost, but they were more of friends really…anyway, if ANYONE can help me out (unlikely as that is) I will love you forever! Anyway, I'm currently in the midst of a desperate search for that.

Well then…tell me what you thought…should I continue the story, is it bad?

Cheers!

Lexi