Sorry for the two lines at the top. Formatting is annoying.

Anyway, here's the second chapter! Sorry if Albus's is a little slow. He doesn't immediately run into any people.

Review if you can! Thanks.

1975

The first thing that registered in Lily's brain was that it was really, really bright. Quite a contrast to the dark, dank basement that she had occupied a few minutes before. The sky was a deep, bright, blue, not too common for England, but not much of a change from how they day had been when she was in the basement.

The second thing that registered was that the grass was making her sneeze. Trying to hold her breath, Lily began to try to sit up. Halfway through, she sneezed, covering her nose with the back of her hand and wincing as her bloody fingers brushed against the skin of her cheek.

"Bless you."

And that was when she noticed the whispers. She wasn't at home anymore, it seemed.

Flocks of children stood in a circle around her, staring with wide eyes. They muttered to each other like children did, probably spreading rumors a thousand miles an hour through the crowd. Had Lily looked a little closer, she would have noticed that all of the children had hairstyles out of a retro magazine, and had she listened a bit more, she might have caught a few "far outs" passed through the crowd. But she was too busy staring at what they were wearing.

She had seen the uniforms before though, but not in the middle of July, at her house. Each of the children were wearing Hogwarts uniforms. She caught a mix of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors, and a few Slytherins scattered here and there. Lily rubbed her eyes, waiting to wake up at home, probably either in the basement or in her bed, having found this was all a dream.

"Lily? You okay?" Lily turned her head, frowning. The voice was familiar, but distant at the same time. It sounded a bit like James or Dad, but there was something else in it that their tones both lacked.

She spotted the boy talking to her. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his mop of messy black hair and hazel brown eyes. Though his face was the picture of concern, she could the laugh lines where the corners of his lips naturally curved upward.

So this was a prank. Either that or the strangest dream she'd ever had.

"James, this better not be a prank," she said, glaring at the boy.

"I'm offended, Lilykins. How dare you think I'd play a prank on you?" James looked hurt, his eyes widening, hands cupped around his chest in mock pain. He glanced back at one of the other boys, laughing slightly.

Who were those other boys? Lily didn't recognize them. One had sandy blond hair and a rather scruffy look to him. She noticed that two scars that looked to have once been deep gouges criss crossed over his cheeks. He looked like he was analyzing her, his eyes showed that his brain was racing a million miles away. The same look Albus had when he was trying to figure out a riddle.

The other boy had dark hair that fell to his shoulders in waves. He was handsome- Lily would give him that, but from the way he looked around the courtyard, he seemed confident, if a little arrogant. His gray eyes crinkled, showing that he laughed a lot. The top button of his dress shirt was unbuttoned, though his scarlet and gold tie was still messily knotted around his neck.

The last boy was a good deal shorter than the others. He had light blond hair, but instead of being lean or muscular he had a layer of pudge around the middle. His smile was crooked, and as the corners of his mouth perked up, Lily could see freckles stretched across his cheeks. His fingers fiddled with the edge of his sweater.

Lily shook her head. If this was a prank, she was going to kill James.

"I'm not kidding. If this is a prank, I'm going to kill you!" She glared at him, looking into his hazel eyes without fear.

Wait. James had brown eyes, not hazel ones. What was going on?

"It's not a prank, Lily. Are you okay?" He took a step toward her, motioning to her fingers, cut from the picture frame glass.

Lily scooted back, knowing full well that if this was one of James's pranks, touching him would be very bad for her. But how he had pulled off something as big as this, she didn't have a clue.

The grass stung her fingers as she set them down. Stupid picture frame, she thought. Why didn't I mend my hands?

The picture frame! She wasn't holding it anymore. Lily looked around, spotting a glint of metal on the stone courtyard a few yards away. The sandy blond haired boy seemed to follow her gaze, noticing the frame. He started toward it, but in one fluid motion, Lily jumped up and snatched the picture from the ground.

"Stop playing with me, James," she said, giving him a glare. "It's not funny anymore. And where's Al?"

"Who's Al?" asked the shorter boy. Lily ignored him.

"Lily," said the boy in front of her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" She protested, frowning at all of the children around her, watching the scene as if it was a muggle movie.

"Oh, give up, Remus. She's probably just playing with us. Bloody good prank though, Evans." The long haired boy winked in her direction, as if to say, sorry for ruining your game. Lily scowled at him, and then his words took effect in her brain.

Remus? Like Teddy's father? Evans?

For a moment there was silence, and then Lily put the pieces together.

Her grandmother's name was Lily Evans Potter. Teddy's father's name was Remus Lupin. They were the same age.

The short boy spoke up, frowning. "Yeah, it's probably a prank, guys."

"That's what I said, Peter," the long haired boy replied.

Peter. Peter Pettigrew? The spy?

"You sure you're okay, Lily?" Remus asked, ignoring the other boys. He frowned in concern.

They thought she was her grandmother. They thought she was Lily Evans. Merlin, she must have traveled to the 70s!

"Lily?" Remus asked again, still frowning.

"Yes!" Lily said, flustered. She needed to get out of here, fast. Before they found out that she wasn't Lily Evans. "I-I mean, yes, I'm… fine. I've gotta go… do something. Bye!" Lily took off in a sprint through the courtyard, scattering students in her wake. She ran inside, pausing for a moment to realize she was in Hogwarts, and that two months ago she had sat in this courtyard with her cousin Hugo and her best friend, Alice.

Or I will in about 50 years, Lily remembered. She ducked into a bathroom, relieved to find it was empty. She locked one of the stolls, closed the seat and sat down, pulled her knees to her chest. She balanced the picture of her knees, staring down at the nineteen or twenty year old Lily Evans Potter.

A tear leaked out of her eye, and Lily put the picture on the ground next to her, not wanting to stain it with her tears. She cradled her head in her hands and began to sob.

Where was Al? And what was she going to do?

1995

Albus opened his eyes, waiting to hear a shout from Lily. She was rather feisty when she wanted to be, and her bat-bogey hexes could rival their mother's. Uncle Ron liked to say that she had a Gryffindor spirit in a Slytherin mind, which Lily seemed to accept. Of course, this was after Ron had gotten over the fact that his niece was a Slytherin.

But when there was no indignant shout of "Albus!" and no flash of red hair, he was confused. He sat up, frowning at his surroundings.

He was no longer in the basement, though this small room was about as messy. Spellbooks and crumpled pieces of parchment littered the floor, laying side by side with smelly socks and the occasional pair of trousers. Whoever had occupied this room had certainly not expected anyone to visit.

Albus frowned as he took in the rest of the room. A small window looked out into a typical suburban street, complete with identical houses and neat little cars tucked into driveways. The occasional sprinkler hissed through the near-silence. He ran his fingers along the top of the sill, marveling at the strange bolts inserted into the wood, like someone had once installed prison bars over the opening. The door also had a cat-flap, he noticed.

He considered leaving the room to explore more, but decided he ought to find out where he was exactly first. Not a wizarding household, it seemed, as there was a severe lack of Quidditch posters or gossip magazines with moving pictures to be found.

A trunk stowed in the corner caught Albus's attention. Frowning, he drifted over to kneel next to it. Digging his hand into the contents, he winced as he connected with a swath of broken quills poking into his skin. He gingerly removed his hand, grabbing a cloak from the swirls of Hogwarts robes shoved inside. He checked the tag, frowning.

It read: Property of Harry James Potter.

Albus frowned, confused. What was his dad's old trunk doing here? It was in the basement, last he had checked. And where was he, anyway?

With a warning in the form of a flap of an owl's wings and a dignified hoot! and owl soared through the window and landed neatly on a stack of newspapers sitting on a desk that was equally messy as the floor. Albus jumped up, alarmed, still clutching his father's cloak. He frowned at the owl, confused.

"Hedwig?" he asked. The owl gave a hoot, bobbing her head. But what was Hedwig doing here as well? She should be at home, with Albus's family. She wasn't the first Hedwig, of course. That had been Dad's first owl, who had died when he was seventeen. The Hedwig Al was thinking of was actually Hedwig III, but everyone just called her Hedwig.

Hedwig hopped into her cage, leaving the newspapers for Albus's eyes to catch. And it did, the headline in particular.

Third Muggle Found Dead This Month. Sirius Black Suspected.

Sirius Black? Albus mused. Ironic; he and Lily had just been talking about him. But Sirius was dead. He had died in 1996. How odd.

He looked up at the date, and his eyebrows furrowed. August 5th, 1995.

Strange as well. The newspaper looked remarkably new to be nearly thirty years old. The flimsy paper hadn't yellowed at all, it seemed, even though Hedwig must have been landing on it for as long as she'd been here, and that seemed to be a while, considering Albus could see the marks on the desk from her cage.

Perhaps it was enchanted. Did they do that to newspapers? Making a mental note to ask someone about that, he turned to the rather dirty mirror on the wall next to the desk. Upon seeing his appearance, he stood stock still.

He still had the irritating and incurable black hair that seemed the curse of all of the Potter boys to inherit, and the sharp green eyes that he was used to, but he was no longer… himself, really.

His nose was longer, and his glasses looked older, not by use, but by style. His lips turned down more at the ends, edging toward a frown. His eyes looked tired, small dark patches under them. But most noticeably, a lightning shaped scar zigzagged down his forehead.

Albus reeled backward, tripping over a stray trainer and landing flat on his back on the floor. He ran his hands over his forehead, but could only feel smooth skin. What was going on? Why did he have his father's scar? It didn't make any sense.

It must be a glamour, he realized. An advanced one, considering Albus didn't feel strange, he just looked it. But why would someone put a glamour on me?

He frowned, considering the possibilities. It was always easier to make a list of everything that could possibly happen. An organized mind was an efficient mind, to take a line from Professor Flitwick.

He could be dreaming. It seemed a likely solution. He must have been knocked out when Lily fell on him. He was probably laying on the couch, his concerned parents and Lily, tears in her eyes, awaiting his awakening. Albus could think of no suitable reason why he would be in this strange room, glamoured to look like his father.

But he never dreamed as vivid as this. And he never thought about the fact he was dreaming during a dream. They were spontaneous and uncontrollable, yet here Albus could think rationally and move his limbs at will. Not to mention, Lily would never cry over anything as stupid as Al being knocked out for a second. Especially not when it had been his fault.

But could he move his limbs? He allowed himself the delusion that he couldn't move his left leg for a few moments before rolling his eyes and concentrating again.

It could be an elaborate prank by James. Despite all of his sibling's lamenting about how Albus was usually the ones who pulled off their pranks, James was quite gifted in magic, which had been much to Mcgonagall's disadvantage.

But there was still no reason that James would have stuck him in his fifteen year old father's body. If he had wanted to get a scream out of Albus, he would have just transfigured everything in the room into spiders.

That's it, Albus thought with a sigh, still sitting on the bedroom floor. That's all I've got.

He rested his head on the bed frame, sighing. Great. He was stuck in a strange bedroom in a strange place with no idea why. It was a perfect kidnapping, leaving him informationless and therefore nearly defenseless.

Don't be stupid. You know what's happened.

Albus nearly groaned. It was that voice. The kind that spoke up when his mind had irrationally given up and presented him with facts. Usually at the most annoying times, like when he wanted to prank someone but was reminded he had homework, or told that he oughtn't to try the Quidditch move, because it was physically impossible for someone of his muscle mass.

Coincidentally, it was also the voice who gave him his sarcastic remarks, but that was a whole other discussion. Right now it was obviously being the first one.

The thing was, it was always right. Albus did know what had happened. He just didn't want to admit it, admit that he was decades away from anyone who could possibly help him.

He had time traveled. That was the only explanation. The newspaper looked new because it was new. Perhaps it had only been printed this morning. His father's trunk and owl was here because this was his father's room. And Albus must have taken his place, his time travelling experience having taken away two years from his form and stuck a scar on his forehead. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He had watched Lily disappear in a shower of gold dust, holding a chain with a broken hourglass connected to it. That must have been the time turner. Then the golden dust had engulfed him, and he had woken up here, miles and years away from home.

Albus put his head in his hands. What had happened in 1995? He searched his brain, praying that he had happened on his father's one peaceful year in Hogwarts. No such luck, it seemed. He remembered that Voldemort had just come back. Sirius would die that spring. Umbridge. The Ministry corruption. Death Eaters.

So basically the only two years the could have been worse to be sucked into were his father's seventh and fourth years. Great luck.

Albus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Sarcasm suddenly seemed tame for his situation. He was in a war zone, after all. He wanted to hit something, preferably Lord Voldemort. Of course, Bellatrix Lestrange would suffice. She was still alive in 1995, wasn't she?

He leaned forward and rested his temples on his knees, and settled for letting thick, hot tears trace rivers down his cheeks.

His head shot up as he heard a voice.

"Harry?"