A/N: Welcome back to the first official installment of The Lies We Told. I hope you enjoyed the introduction. Now let the story Begin!

Chapter 1: Not Where He Intended

Consciousness drifted back to him like a fickle mistress. First came the comfort and warmth, which was decidedly more than he was accustomed to. Then came the drifting sounds of the breeze and birdsong. Harry opened his eyes to a haze of light shining through an open window to his blurry eyes. He groaned and rolled over groping blindly on his nightstand for...

Harry stopped. He hadn't needed his glasses in years. He had gotten his eyes fixed back in his seventh year. It had cost a pretty penny but it had saved his life more than once during the war. He had kept his glasses even after that for awhile out of nostalgia but had eventually thrown them away. And yet, here they were, under his hand.

He sat bolt upright in bed, drowsiness forgotten. His hands grabbed frantically at his body. His side. His arm. His cheek. All places he knew jagged scars resided. He found nothing but smooth skin. He spotted a large mirror standing in one corner, grabbed his glasses and scrambled out of bed toward it.

It worked. He thought to himself as he stared at the reflection in the mirror. There he stood, a decade and a half younger and without any of the scars or lingering injuries. On top of that, his book and chest lay dangling against his chest right we had put them. I actually made it. He thought with wonder. There he stood, young again, back to his old self. Better even. He looked in better shape than he remembered being at that age. And...taller. And his scar was...

Harry leaned forward toward the mirror and lifted his hair up to get a better look. He squinted and prodded frantically. His scar was...gone. Not healed. Not faded. Gone. It had healed up when the horcrux had been destroyed years ago but it had never disappeared entirely. And at this time it should be in full force. All strong and red and angry.

Something was wrong. Harry looked at his surroundings properly for the first time, and what became painfully obvious was he was not at the Dursley's. Nor was he in the Dorm room at Hogwarts.

The room was large, with a sizable four-poster bed in the center of one wall and a fireplace centered prominently in the wall across from it. Bookshelves filled with tomes, papers and knickknacks covered another wall and a large bay window was in the last. There were also two doors in the back corner of the room. He instinctually knew they led to a bathroom and closet respectively, but he didn't know how he knew that. This was a luxurious bedroom and deep down, be knew it was his room. Not where he was staying or visiting, but his room. Where he lived. But this led to the larger question, where exactly was that?

He walked to the window and was confronted by a view that must have been from the second or even third floor of a large manor. Displayed out below were, well, what would have been some very well designed grounds if they weren't so overgrown. In the distance, he saw the wall of the property and large, decorated gate that had a stylized 'P' affixed to the center. Harry sat down heavily in the chair placed next to the window. There was only one place this could be.

Harry had read his Family Grimoire as soon as he had been allowed when he came of age back in seventh year. In it had been a list of all Potter properties and on that list had been Potter Castle. It hadn't actually been a castle for some time since Harry's multiple times over Grandfather had brought them into a more modern era, but it was still called as such. Still, despite this, Harry had been excited to hear that he owned a large estate since he had been, at the time looking for new places to house the Order after Grimmauld Place had been razed to the ground. However, he quickly learned that Potter Castle had been destroyed during the previous war all that remained was a burnt out husk. He had seen a picture of it in its glory days, however, and there was no denying that was the front gate. He even recognized the large fountain under all its moss and vines now that he was thinking about it.

Something had gone horribly wrong. The ritual was just supposed to send him back in time. His own time. He should be at the Dursley's, or Hogwarts or even the Weasley's. Not some place that shouldn't even exist. The ritual had worked somewhat, his youthful body was enough proof of that. But it had also sent him...sideways, to...well, here. Wherever here was. Apparently a 'here' where Potter Castle hadn't been destroyed. But then, did that mean...

A knock came suddenly at the bedroom door causing Harry to jump in his seat. "You awake, bud?" called a voice from the other side of the door. "We gotta go in about 30 minutes and Flopsy made you breakfast. You know how she's been the past few days with you leaving. You don't want to miss her food on top of it."

Harry was too stunned to speak. That voice, while older, was unmistakable and one he had only heard in memories. Apparently he took too long to answer because the door creaked open and none other than James Potter poked his head in.

James' eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on him sitting next to the window. "Well you're not dressed, but at least you're up. I thought you would be more excited about your first day of school." Then he kicked the trunk sitting next to the door that Harry hadn't seen until now. "Good thing you packed last night. Come on, hurry up and get ready. It's a big day. Don't want to be late."

Harry just nodded faintly. "Yeah sure...Dad." He managed to stammer out.

His dad gave him a smile, but Harry's emotions were still roiling inside of him. He had a thousand questions. How was he alive? What had happened? And most importantly, was Mom alive too?

He looked at the man apparently risen from the dead and for the first time took in his appearance and realized just how haggard the man looked. His beard was scraggly and unkempt there were deep bags under his eyes that only highlighted their sunken and hollow appearance.

He took too long trying to formulate some other response and before he knew it, his father had ducked back out of the room. Why had his father looked so ragged? But, then, he always looked like that. The intrusive thought came suddenly like it had with his room, and he was beginning to realize these were memories of his past life, the one his body lived up until this point. He couldn't remember it all at once, probably his brain instinctually keeping him from being overwhelmed, but it was coming in pieces. Just not very useful ones. And there was one in particular he needed right away.

His Dad was still alive and he didn't have his scar. Those two differences both pointed to the same event. Halloween, 1981. And if that didn't happen, then everything changed.

He probed and prodded at his memory. Occlumency had never been his strong point and he was really cursing that fact right at that moment. Despite this, he was soon supplied with an answer.

~~~~~~~

An eight-year-old Harry sat silent at the table just staring at his food. He hadn't even picked up his fork. It didn't take long for his Dad to notice. "What's up, bud? Not hungry today?" He asked, looking up briefly from the file he was holding. Harry didn't respond for a bit causing James to fully put down his file and turn toward him.

"Hey. Are you alright? Did something happen at the Longbottom's?" Harry was quiet for a minute before seeming to come to some decision. He looked up a little, stopping right before looking his Father in the eyes.

"I...I want to know what happened." His father seemed puzzled. So Harry continued. " I know you don't like to talk about it, so I've asked Uncle Sirius, Uncle Remus and even Professor McGonagall. But they all just told me you would tell me in time." James understood what he was talking about now, but Harry kept going. "So today I asked Madam Longbottom. I know I shouldn't have, but I just had to know." Something flashed in James' eyes at the mention of the Longbottom Matriarch, but he let Harry finish.

"She...she didn't get mad. She just got really quiet and said 'Sometimes fate is a bitch, boy. And she led Voldemort right to young Neville and yourself and took his parents and your mother as payment for your own lives. Just be glad you still have your Father.' "

Harry fell into silence for a minute and a tear slid slowly down his cheek. "And I AM glad and I AM grateful, for you and everything you do and the long hours you spend at work. I just...I just..."

Harry was cut off by a pair of strong arms that wrapped around him and pulled him into an embrace. "I know." Came the soft voice of his father. "And I'm sorry." He pulled back from Harry slightly to look him in the eyes. "I... You're right. I don't like to talk about it. But, that's not fair to you, but you have to understand, it's..hard for me to remember that night. But I'll try." His dad led Harry over to a small loveseat against one of the walls and sat down.

"The world was still reeling from what happened at the Longbottoms just a few days earlier. The Auror Corps called all hands mopping up what they could of the mess. I was exempt because we were in hiding at the time, but your Uncle Sirius and the rest of them worked themselves to the bone scouring the nation for Death Eaters. No one suspected they would come here."

James was silent for a moment looking down at the floor. Harry just sat listening, afraid any interruption would end the long awaited story. Finally his dad continued. "There were four of them. Evan Rosier, the Lestrange brothers and that crazy bi..." he audibly swallowed what he had intended to say. "...and Bellatrix. They had a device of some kind that Rosier stole from the Department of Mysteries. He had been an Unspeakable at that time. We still don't know what it was, all we found was a fried lump of metal. But whatever it was, it turned our wards to paper."

There was another pause as James gathered his thoughts. "The only warning we got was when they blasted down the front door. I told Lily to stay upstairs but she wouldn't listen. I sent off a message to Amelia, our boss, but I knew it would be too late. We found them as they were crossing over the atrium. The Lestranges and Rosier jumped me immediately, leaving your mother to fight Bellatrix. I tried to...I just couldn't..." his father was sobbing now, having trouble getting the words out.

Harry didn't know what to say, but he took his father's hands into his own. James sobbed even harder and clutched at his boy's hand. They sat there like that for some time.

~~~~~~~~~

Harry came to with a start out of the memories to find tears on his cheeks. Once again, even in another world, his mother was dead. Madame Longbottom was right. Fate really was a bitch.

He walked as if on autopilot towards the closet, still shaken by the memory. There he found a set of casual robes obviously set out for the day. He had done it the night before. He was so excited to start school. Now, he was filled with nervousness and trepidation. He was supposed to be able to predict the coming events, and he found himself in a world he barely recognized.

He grabbed the front of his trunk, still polished and new, and stepped out into the hall. The prior memories did a good enough job guiding him to the small informal dining room off the kitchen he knew they ate breakfast in, though he did have to backtrack once or twice. The manor was huge, but it was immediately obvious that the inside was as poorly kept as the outside. Sheets covered unused furniture and statues. A heavy layer of dust settled on bannisters and floors that saw little traffic. Apparently the Potters hadn't hosted any company in quite some time.

'Are we destitute?' He thought to himself as he made his way downstairs. 'Why is the house in such poor condition?' Then, entering the dining room, he saw Flopsy standing next to his seat with a tray of food and was given his answer in a rush of memories.

The Potters weren't destitute. Far from it in fact. On top of the family investments, his dad made good money as an auror and, with only the two of them, expenses were cheap. Flopsy, on the other hand, the lone Potter elf, was perhaps the oldest elf that Harry had ever seen. She had been his Mom's elf, old even back then, bought at a discount to keep up with the household when she had first married Dad. His dad had never been able to bring himself to buy another one. Lily had said Flopsy was all they needed. And so, Flopsy would always be enough.

When she had become too old to maintain the property, his father had simply let it fall to ruin and limited her duties to cooking and cleaning the few areas of the house they used. It was clear it tore poor Flopsy to pieces to be unable to keep up with her old duties, but there was little she could do.

Child Harry had been confused, and worried. But adult Harry remembered that look on his father's face that morning and understood all too well. Harry himself had been, and was still wracked by survivors guilt, and it was apparent that, without Lily, James had fallen into a deep depression and had become all but a broken man.

Harry pulled out the chair from the table and sat down. Flopsy eagerly sat her tray down in front of him. "Good Mornings, Master Harry." The excitable little creature said, practically bouncing, her voice still squeaky despite her advanced age. "I's made your favourite breakfasts for big day!"

"Thank you, Flopsy" Harry responded, unable to hold back a smile at her antics. His 'favourite' turned out to be a small stack of waffles topped with chopped fruit and honey.

"It looks delicious. I am going to miss your cooking while I am at Hogwarts." Flopsy's ears drooped at the comment. "I's be missing you, too Master Harry." she said softly, "The house be's so quiet without you."

Then she adopted a stern expression. "Yous better be eatin good when at Hoggywarts, young master, or I's be coming up there to be whoopin you withs a spoon!",

Harry chuckled and ruffled the old elf's ears. "I'll certainly try, though I doubt the food there will be as good as what you make." Flopsy brightened considerably and beamed with pride at the compliment.

Just then, his dad came walking into the dining room holding a copy of The Daily Pro...no. The Daily Herald, Harry idly noticed. Not even that could be the same. "Stop badgering the poor boy, Flopsy." His father jokingly admonished, "He needs to eat. Could you get me another cup of coffee, please?"

Flopsy frowned disapprovingly. "Three cups be's too much, Master James." she chided back before popping away.

Harry began to eat quietly as his father sat down and started to read the paper. Despite her earlier comment, Flopsy soon popped back in to deposit a steaming cup of coffee next to his father. She gave him one last frown before leaving again, but his father took no heed and started sipping on it slowly.

"Did you not get in till late last night?" Harry tried to ask casually, still not quite used to being concerned about the health of his long-dead father.

James waved his hand dismissively from behind the paper. "You know the job, kiddo. Long Hours. Lots of paperwork and lots of bad guys to catch." Harry did know. He had done the job for almost a year until the Ministry collapsed. He also knew that this was a well rehearsed excuse that his father used. Young Harry had learned not to pry, but old Harry was worried something else was going on and all those hours weren't being spent at the office.

Harry dropped the topic, instead focusing on the front of the paper that faced him. The headline was of little consequence, something about a budget reform bill getting pushed through the Wizagamot. Of much more interest to Harry was something found in small text in the upper right hand corner, the date. It read the 23rd of August, 1993.

Looking at his younger body and knowing he was on his way to his first year at Hogwarts had, of course, given him some idea of what the date was. But seeing it written plainly in front of him was another matter entirely.

He had time-traveled nearly fifteen years. Well, not time-traveled precisely. In fact, be wasn't quite sure what he had done at all. But here he was, not quite where he had intended. And he would have to make the best of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading. This chapter took a lot of editing. I must have written and rewritten it three or four times. There was a lot of information to get across in this chapter and I really tried to do it without making it a slog to get through. I hope I succeeded.

Be sure to let me know what you think so far and hopefully it will be smooth sailing from here. Now the fun part starts.

-Lord Sweater