Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any Harry Potter characters besides some OC ones that may or may not pop up. I also DO NOT own any story plots that are canon. I do, however, own the things that ARE NOT canon.

Harry sighed. Today turned out to be another hot one, but he'd rather be outside than cooped up in his room, listening to Petunia's snide remarks, or Dudley and his friends playing video games in Dudley's room.

He went back to the park and sat on the same swing as he did the day before. Only this time, he actually started to swing, hoping that if he picks up enough speed he'll get cooled off by the breeze.

The bags under his eyes were more pronounced, having been kept awake most of the night by nightmares. Hedwig comforted him as much as she could, but even she couldn't completely chase away the horrific scenes he saw every time he closed his eyes.

When he finally woke up for real, he immediately rushed to the bathroom to take a shower and rinse all the sweat off of him. He skipped breakfast all together.

Harry closed his eyes as he swung on the swing, trying to imagine that he was somewhere else. The wind ruffling his hair helped him imagine that he was flying on his Firebolt, up with the clouds and the birds, free from anything and everything that always ends up blocking him one way or another. He flashed back to the first time he played for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was the only one on either team to have a top-of-the-line broom and he was the fastest there was. Despite having to wear glasses, his eyesight was excellent and he pinpointed the snitch pretty quickly, but was thwarted by an opposing player. But even after that, and after having his broom cursed by Quirellemort, his first game as a seeker was one of his most treasured memories.

He doesn't know how long he swings with his eyes closed, but they snap open when he hears the sound of voices. He stops pumping his feet and glanced around, catching sight of a family of five at the park. A mother and father, a young boy and girl, and a baby cradled in the mother's arms.

Every time Harry sees a scene like the one before him, he gets a tight feeling in his chest. More than anything, he wants someone to care about him the way a parent should. Mrs. Weasley is a great mother-figure, but her first priority is always going to be her family and her children. If she had the choice to save him or Ron, Harry is certain that she'd pick Ron. Now that isn't to say that she'd immediately sell Harry out, but when it comes down to it, she's going to protect her family first and foremost.

Remus seemed to care that one year he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but Harry doesn't talk with him much. Sirius had shown to care a great deal about him as well, but he seems to be extremely reckless, not at all like a parent figure should be. It's like their roles are reversed and Harry is the responsible and sensible one, whereas Sirius has the attitude of a child.

Dumbledore...Harry doesn't know how to feel about Dumbledore. He seems to be the one person that always believes in him and urges him to do the right thing, but there always seems to be something more going on with him.

Professor McGonagall, his head of house, is a nice and caring person, but she has all of Gryffindor to take care of. Harry, for once, would like to be someone's priority, the person that someone put first and foremost. He'd like to be someone's reason for smiling because he got good grades, or have them throw a birthday party for him because they're proud of everything he's done so far. He'd love, more than anything, to be someone's reason for waking up in the morning.

He was still staring towards the happy family, the feeling in his chest starting to amplify, when a strange thing happened.

He didn't notice that he had stopped moving on the swing, but it was brought to his attention when a bird landed on his thigh. It was light brown and white and could easily fit in the palm of his hand. Harry stared at it in shock. He was pretty sure random birds don't fly up to you, let alone land on you.

The bird stared up at him, it's eyes looking directly into his, before it blinked and flew away to a tree on the other side of the park. It seemed to look back at him before it chirped loudly. Harry stared after it, a weird feeling creeping over him. Without even realising it, he had stood up and made his way across the park towards it. When he got closer, it flew away again to a tree even further away and still, Harry followed it. This went on for another five minutes, Harry following the bird as it flew from tree to tree and deeper into the wooded area behind the park until finally, the bird flew behind a wide tree. Harry walked behind as well and came to a surprise.

It was a small clearing, maybe roughly the size of a small baseball field, but standing in the middle of the field was a man. Harry couldn't see his face clearly since the man was wearing wide sunglasses and a cap on his head, but he was wearing simple muggle clothing, a black t-shirt and muggle jogging pants. The bird Harry was chasing was nowhere to be seen.

"Uh, hello," Harry said politely, trying to fight the urge to whip his wand out of his pocket and point it at the stranger.

The man stared at him in silence, an awkward air descending on the duo as they studied one another. At first, Harry wasn't sure if he would say something back but then he opened up his mouth. "I don't know whether to be happy or upset that you fell for that," he finally said, his voice smooth and slightly deep.

Harry was instantly suspicious. "I don't know what you mean, sir," he said, trying to keep his tone polite.

"Oh, but I think you do," the man said, his tone now amused. "You followed a bird here, did you not?"

"So?" Harry said defensively, sweat starting to form on his brow.

The man's lips pulled into a slight smirk that Harry couldn't see. "I thought that with Voldemort finally back and his Death Eaters knowing that you know their identities, you'd be more careful."

Harry gaped at him in shock. Voldemort? Death Eaters? This guy must be a wizard! Harry quickly whipped out his wand and pointed it at him, his face angry and slightly scared. "Who are you?" He demanded harshly.

The man chuckled. "I suggest you put that wand down Harry," he said. "You might hurt someone."

"Who are you?" he repeated. "And how do you know my name?"

"Mate, everyone knows who you are," the man said. "You're the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived'."

Harry scowled. "Okay, fine. But who are you? What is your name?"

"I'm someone you know well," he said cryptically. "Extremely well, in fact."

"You're mad," Harry exclaimed after a moment. "I don't know who the bloody hell you are! Do you really think I'd fall for the 'we're old friends' trick? Stop with the games and tell me who you are, and what you're doing here!"

Again, the man didn't say anything. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking since his face was mostly covered, but his body stance was relaxed. He doesn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that Harry has his wand out and pointing it at him. Harry grit his teeth and prepared to fire off a spell when the man opened his mouth again.

"After Petunia found you on the doorsteps the morning after Dumbledore left you there, she and your Uncle Vernon forced you to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs."

Harry froze. How did this man know that? He never told anyone that, not even Ron and Hermione. "How do you know that?" he asked hoarsely.

He didn't answer the question.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked again, this time a panicked tone in his voice. He gripped his wand tighter in his hand.

The man ignored his question once again. "In your second year, you were so sick of everyone treating you like the next dark lord after they found out you were a parselmouth, that you were secretly hoping that Slytherin's monster would petrify you as well, just to get away from it all and then people would see that it wasn't you."

Harry swallowed thickly. How did this man know that? He never told anyone about how he felt. About how he wanted to escape the terrified looks and the narrowed eyes and the mutters so badly that he didn't even care if Slytherin's monster got to him. About how he felt ashamed of feeling that way when he found out that Hermione became petrified. And how he loathed almost the entire school when they went back to 'praising' their boy-who-lived without so much as a 'sorry' when the truth came out.

"In your third year," the man said, his voice softer now, "when you first felt a dementor's presence, on the train, they brought forth the memory of your mother screaming."

The hand clutching Harry's wand was sweaty, but he kept a white-knuckled grip on it. Harry didn't notice that his hand was shaking or that it was lowering slightly, but he couldn't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"And at the end of your fourth year," he said, his voice so low that Harry almost didn't hear it, "after seeing Cedric killed, being tied to a tombstone, having your blood taken from you to resurrect Voldemort, enduring two of the three Unforgivable Curses, and then finally dueling Voldemort himself, you wished that it was you who had been killed instead of Cedric."

Harry gasped. His hand loosened on his wand and his arm fell limply to his side. He took a step back from the man, his face pale and his eyes filled with shock. "Who are you," he asked again, his voice shaky. "How do you know so much about me? I never told anybody any of those things."

And he hadn't. After going through everything in that graveyard, the Minister not believing a word he says, and the beginnings of even more stares and whispers after Dumbledore announced Voldemort's return, Harry just became tired. More than once, he thought about how easy it would've been if he was the one that took Pettigrew's killing curse. At least he would've been with his parents.

The man started to walk forward, his gait steady and relaxed. Harry took a few uncertain steps backward at the action, which ended with him stumbling over his own feet and landing on his arse. The stranger never faltered in his steps and kept moving forward towards Harry until he was standing over him. Harry didn't raise his wand at him, merely eyed him warily and suspiciously.

"You asked me who I am," he stared calmly. He reached up and pulled the cap off his head, revealing black hair that reached the top of his shoulders and a fringe of it covering his forehead. "Well, I would think it was obvious about who I am, especially with what I know." He took off the sunglasses next, letting them fall to the ground.

Harry gasped as he stared into the man's brilliant green eyes as he smiled down at him. "I am you."

It is not uncommon to think about the passage of time. Many people, whether they were muggles or witches and wizards, thought about traversing time at least once in their life. To go back in time to fix something they so desperately wished to change, to experience a once in a lifetime experience that will never come again, to save someone they had lost earlier in their life. Or even go forward in time to see the outcome of something important, to see something you won't have a chance to because you're dying, to see how their children will turn out, and even fix something you couldn't by going backwards in time.

For muggles, time travel is an impossible dream, wishful thinking that will drive you mad if thought about for too long. Knowing that you can't change anything, but wishing more than anything that you can, will drive even the most strong-willed muggle to their knees in despair if dwelled on for too long.

For witches and wizards, time travel isn't impossible, but the only means of which to do so can only take you back a couple of hours. You cannot go back years like a lot of people wish to do, never mind going forward. Traveling backwards through time isn't an impossible concept to witches and wizards, but to travel years into the past? Never heard of in recorded history.

Maybe that's why Harry Potter was staring at the man in front of him with an incredulous look on his face and wide eyes. "W-What? Are you crazy? You can't be me, I'm me!"

"You are you, and so am I," he said. He crouched down so they were eye level with each other, green eyes looking at green eyes. "Why can't you believe I'm you?"

"Because it's impossible!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm Harry Potter! And I'm only fourteen, turning fifteen in a couple weeks! You're...you're-"

"Twenty-four, turning twenty-five in a couple of weeks," the man claiming to be Harry Potter answered wryly.

"Whatever! You can't be me! It's impossible!"

"Calm down and think," the man said, never losing his calm tone. "Just for a moment, think of a way I can be you, but older."

For a moment, Harry wanted to refuse. He wanted to get up and bolt out of there, back to his relatives and owl Dumbledore. Or even call the police. But something told him to pause and listen. Something told him to do as the man said; so he did. He tried to even out his breathing that he hadn't noticed was speeding up, tried to block everything else out but his thoughts, and tried to think.

The man stared at Harry as realization started showing in his eyes. "Time travel?" Harry asked hoarsely. "But that can't be right either! The only way to travel in time are with time turners and they only take people back hours, not years!"

"Then explained to me how I know things only you know," the man stated calmly. "How do I know things that you haven't told anyone else? How do I know the exact feelings you've felt over the years? And if I'm not you," he started moving the hair away from his forehead, "how do I have this?"

Harry gaped at what he saw. On the man's forehead was a silver scar, the same shape as Harry's own, and in the exact same place. It looked slightly different than Harry's, not as vivid as the one on his own forehead, but there was no mistaking it. Harry saw it everyday when he looked in the mirror. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was too much evidence pointing to the truth.

"So...you really are me," Harry said quietly, as he stared into the man's eyes. His own eyes he corrected mentally.

"Yes," he said, a smile appearing on his face. "I am pleased that you believe me."

"How did you come back here?" Harry asked in awe. "Why did you come back anyway?"

Older-Harry glanced around. "Not here," he said seriously. "Listen to me Harry. You need to make a choice-"

"A choice?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Yes," he said with a nod, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. "You've been lied to and deceived by someone you trust."

Harry gasped. "What?" Hurt crossed his features. "Who? Who lied to me? And why did they lie? What did they lie about?"

"We can't discuss that here," Older-Harry shook his head. "You never know who's listening. But you need to make a choice. Here or with me."

"What?"

"I can take you away from here," he said. Harry's eyes widened in shock. "I can take you to come live with me, but only if you'd like to. But you can stay here if you'd like."

"You can get me out of here?" Harry asked, elation filling him at the thought of getting out of this place.

"You must understand this," Older-Harry said seriously, causing Harry to focus on him intently. "If you come with me, everything you know will change. Things you thought were true will turn out to be false. And some people you thought you trusted, will turn out to have hidden agendas."

Older-Harry stood up and held out a hand. "Are you coming with me, or are you staying with the Dursleys?"

Harry didn't even hesitate. He reached up and clasped the older man's hand, letting him haul him off the ground.

"I'm coming with you."

Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts, his hands clasped under his chin as he thought about his plans.

Fudge was still being an idiot about Voldemort's return, refusing to even consider the possibility of him being back. He even had The Daily Prophet hide the fact that Mr. Diggory is dead.

"No matter, no matter," Dumbledore muttered to himself. "Not all is at a standstill."

With Fudge believing him and young Mr. Potter to be liars, his focus will be on discrediting him and making the boy's life unbearable. Dumbledore will be able to recall members of his group, The Order of The Phoenix, to work against Voldemort. And speaking of Mr. Potter…

Dumbledore smiled slightly. He had told Sirius, Remus, the Weasleys, and Ms. Granger to refrain from contacting Mr. Potter. While he told them that it was because he was afraid of Death Eaters finding out where he lived - and that's a valid fear - he wanted young Harry to become mad and irrational and to feel betrayed. His friend Dodge at the ministry had overheard a woman called Umbridge muttering at her desk. It seems as if she plans to send a dementor after him to 'shut him up'. However, this plan of hers will coincide with Dumbledore's intentions with Harry.

"Since young Harry will obviously use his magic to defend himself, it would be his second offense of magic outside of school," Dumbledore said aloud. "He will be called in by the ministry for a meeting and, knowing how Fudge operates, he'll want to persecute him with anything he can find. He might even use the whole Wizengamot to intimidate the boy. But no matter; Arabella will keep an eye on him and can be called upon as a witness. And of course, I'll appear in time to save Mr. Potter from persecution and he'll be grateful to me, ensuring more loyalty."

Dumbledore smiled again, his eyes twinkling madly as he sat back in his chair. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistress inside the office were staring at him shock, horror, revulsion, fear, and everything between. They noticed the Headmaster had seemed off ever since the night Lily and James Potter were killed by you-know-who, but this was too much. His manipulations of Harry Potter have gone on for too long. Unfortunately, a spell was placed on their portraits by Dumbledore when he first took the mantle of Headmaster that doesn't allow them to speak about what has been spoken inside the office.

One of them, Phineas Nigellus Black, was staring at Dumbledore with hatred clearly displayed on his face. He doesn't know how the man got into Gryffindor, he was too manipulative for the House of Lions. He hated how Dumbledore was playing the world like a chessboard, hiding who he really was under that grandfatherly façade, and lying about his intentions.

For the first time in his life, he was feeling remorse for a Gryffindor. He prayed to Merlin that this Harry Potter won't fall for the old man's tricks and see him for who he really is. But seeing how everyone was fooled by him, even the Death Eaters hiding in plain sight, what chance did a fifteen-year-old boy have?

Another headmaster in a different portrait, the one containing Armando Dippet, shook his head in sadness and grief. It was he who appointed Albus to be his successor when he decided to retire. He didn't realize who the man truly was until the deaths of the Potters and the subsequent claiming of their orphaned son to be known as the-boy-who-lived. Ever since that night happened and he witnessed every time the old man schemed in his chair, he despaired inside. He couldn't believe he was fooled by this man who was once a close friend and colleague. The way he manipulates people as if they were nothing more than pawns, the way he treats people like family before talking badly about them behind their backs, making promises he doesn't intend to keep, and fooling everyone around him, sometimes even himself. He sees how Albus always talks about the 'Greater Good' and what must be done, but still shows no remorse for his actions. In some ways, Albus Dumbledore is just as bad as the Dark Lord Voldemort himself.

Fawkes the Phoenix stared at Dumbledore, sadness and fury warring inside the beautiful creature. When he first met Albus, he thought he was a kind man and a person who strived to help others. How thoroughly wrong he was. When he bonded with the man and became his familiar, he became exposed to his true nature and manipulations. He immediately wanted to break the bond but it was too late; he was already tied to the man. The only way to break the bond now is if someone of pure intentions tried to bond with him or if Dumbledore died. Everyone was fooled by the old man, so no one from the 'light side' tried to bond with the Phoenix, and anybody else who wants to try will have evil intentions, their souls tainted by greed, anger, or selfishness.

And Dumbledore isn't someone who is easily killed, the only one with the power to do so is Voldemort. But if he was the one to get rid of Albus, then there would be an even bigger threat against the young ones of Hogwarts. They are just children, and shouldn't pay for the sins of its Headmaster. For now, all he could do was watch in sorrow as Dumbledore schemed and plotted, with young Harry Potter right in the middle of things.

Sirius Black walked up to the attic where Buckbeak was kept. He wanted to be alone for a while, tired of the nagging from Molly Weasley and her reminders about his current state of imprisonment. He entered the room, throwing a chicken leg at Buckbeak as he did.

"Hey Buckbeak," he said softly, a small smile making his way into his face as he stared at the creature. At first glance, the animal with front legs and wings and head of an eagle, and the body, hind legs, and tail of a horse, would seem pretty intimidating and scary. But Buckbeak turned out to be a very loyal creature and was very kind and gentle to those he considered his allies.

Sirius leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, his head in his hands as he let out a sigh. He hated this. He hated being cooped up inside his insufferable family's house, with the portrait of his mother always screaming her head off about blood-traitors and mudbloods. It was like being in another prison, just without the dementors. More than anything, he wished his godson was here. He wanted to spend time with him, plan pranks with him, laugh with him, and do all the things they missed out on. But Dumbledore said that they couldn't contact him. He was afraid that the owls would attract the attention of the Death Eaters and they'd know where he lived. He had asked him why Harry couldn't come stay with him in Grimmauld Place since, after all, the Weasleys and Hermione were staying there as well. All he got from Dumbledore was 'Harry needs to live where his mother's blood dwells. As long as he can call that place home, he is protected from Voldemort and his followers. The blood wards are the only protection he has, my boy.'

Sirius sighed again. He didn't like it, but Dumbledore knew what was best to protect Harry. He's been doing it longer than he had after all, ever since that fateful Halloween night. He guesses that he'll have to wait a while before he can see James's and Lily's son again.

Hey guys! How was my attempt at putting Dumbledore in a bad light? I thought I did okay, maybe a fix or two here and there. Sirius was a little harder. Being in Azkaban would mean he might have problems controlling his anger and he'll be sort of stuck in the mindset he was in when he was arrested, but I don't want to make him a bad-ish guy. He does genuinely care about Harry after all.

And then there's Ron and Hermione. I actually kind of like Hermione and hate Ron but I want your opinion on where they should stand.

Thanks for sticking with me!