Disclaimer: Rowling owns the sandbox, I'm just playing in it. This story also borrows from other worlds, but mostly in a "Hey, I've got an idea! I saw it in a movie!" way.

Author's notes: I looked up the British school system for this – children five years and older are required by law to attend school. I don't think the Dursleys would have bothered with sending James and Dudley to school before that.

Clarification: Harry Potter didn't die and get replaced by James, James IS Harry Potter. It's the same body, the same life, just a different soul

Chapter 1: James and the Dursleys

Harry James Potter wasn't like the other kids on Privet Drive. He never played ball with the other boys. He never complained of 'cooties' when he found himself near girls. He never shirked his chores. He spent hours every day just running from one end of Little Whinging to the other, jumping over logs, scrambling under bushes, and climbing fences. His neighbors came to conclude that the boy, while obviously mentally deficient - why else would he seemingly avoid his peers?, was a testament to the parenting skills of his aunt and uncle, the Dursleys from Number Four.

If anyone had every told James – as the boy insisted on going by – of this conclusion, he'd have laughed in their face. He never played with the boys because his cousin Dudley was one of them, and Dudley liked to hit James. He didn't mind being near girls because, well let's just say he was more mature than his peers. He did his chores without complaint because he knew Uncle Vernon was always waiting for an excuse to beat him up. He ran all day because... James loved running. He liked feeling the wind in his scruffy black hair. He liked the natural high of exercise. He liked being able to get the heck away from Vernon and Dudley.

James was very aware that it wasn't normal, wasn't right, for a five year old to live in a cupboard under the stairs and do all the chores for 'relatives' he never could find a resemblance to. He knew that he shouldn't be beaten daily for things beyond his control, like freak rainstorms and bad traffic. He knew a slice of toast and a glass of water were far less than a boy his age should be eating. He knew that he should be given at least SOME clothes that actually fit him, instead of just a bunch of left-overs from Dudley, who was almost as wide as he was tall. He also knew that he'd run away 46 times, and every time, right as he made it to the police station, his memory went blank and he woke up back in his cupboard the next morning. This, James knew, was even less normal than anything else.

But today James didn't care just how abnormal his life was. His salvation had arrived in the form of the British school system. From now on, he'd be free from nine to three every day. Free to sit still with being hit or yelled at about chores no five year old should have to deal with. Free to borrow books from a library – one place the Dursleys never went – even if it was a pathetic little primary school library. Free to finally show off his intellect... no wait... first year wasn't exactly going to be a challenge to him, not after... maybe that never really happened. Anyway, he was still FREE! The Dursleys couldn't possibly ruin school for him... right?

"Potter, Harry!" the teacher read, never looking up from the papers strewn across her desk.

James looked up from his curiously empty desk at the dumpy woman at the front of the room. "James, ma'am. I prefer to go by my middle name."

The educator finally looked up from her desk at this boy who dared to correct her. "Harry Potter, at this school we call you by your real name. The one your parents gave you."

"But they DID name me James, it's just my middle nam-"

"You will raise you hand before speaking, Harry," she interrupted sternly. "I have a note here from your guardians saying you are to share books with your cousin, as they can't afford to purchase any for you this year."

Bullshit,James thought, utilizing just one of the more useful words he wasn't sure where he'd learned. Vern just bought himself a brand new car, Petunia a pearl necklace, and Dudley a bike. If he's broke, I'm James-freakin'-Bond. But he didn't say anything, just turned to glance at Dudley sitting six rows over and three seats back. Well... crap.

Lunch, James' next big hope, was almost worse. Somehow the Dursleys had convinced the school cafeteria that he would be brown-bagging it, and wouldn't need to be served anything. Too bad no one told me, thought James sarcastically. Not that he thought they'd have let him pack anything anyway...

James was startled out of his angry funk when he felt a cool finger slide along his brow.

"You've got a cool scar," said the blond girl who was suddenly sitting next to him. "It looks like lightning. Want to be my friend?"

James and his new friend Alissa had a great time talking over lunch, and even made a few other friends – most of which only came over at first because James was making goofy faces. Several kids tried to given James a sandwich, but he politely kept refusing until someone – he never really saw who – shoved an apple at him. He ate it quickly, shocked at just how good his first apple in... well, a really long time, tasted. Satisfied that their new friend had been fed, the kids started clamoring for James to make some more face, some of them even calling out requests from him to try.

Take that, Dursleys!

James' happiness last all of forty minutes, or until recess started. Dudley had made some friends too. Some very mean friends who had no problem hitting small girls and smaller boys. The teachers, apparently not paid enough to deal with this kind of problem, turned their backs as James and his friends were pummeled. Dudley ran out of breath after five minutes, so him and his friends waddled off – okay, so most of them didn't waddle, but Dudley sure did.

James pulled himself up as much as he could and dragged himself over to his friends. "Guys, I'm so sorry. If you hadn't been with me... stay away, please. I can't protect you guys too... not yet..."

Late that night, a green-eyed boy adjusted his glasses as he continued to copy the textbooks he'd swiped from Dudley's room earlier.

I'm not gonna let anyone else get hurt because of me. If I can't keep them from hurting me, fine. But I'm not gonna give them a reason to hurt anyone else ever again. He put his pencil down for a moment while he calmed himself down. It wouldn't do to break his only pencil (for now) accidentally. He screamed silently in frustration, slamming his fists (softly, mustn't wake the Dursleys) into the stairs over his head.

A soft plop yanked James out of his silent tantrum. He looked down ruefully at his pencil, which had rolled off his bed and lodged against the door. Resigning himself to get back up so he could reach it, the boy briefly indulged in a nearly forgotten habit – he reached out and imagined the pencil snapping into his grip like a yoyo.

Then it actually did, followed by -

"Holy sh-"

And Harry James Potter did something he couldn't remember ever doing, not even in...

He fainted.

Author's Notes: Thanks to "shadow uzumaki" for reviewing. In case no one can tell, James isn't quite sure if his memories from before are real, so he tries not to think about them much – this will change soon. Next chapter will start with Dudley's eleventh birthday – who knows how much will have happened in the meantime?