I was bored, and my internet wasn't working… So here you go!
The was is over. Voldemort is dead; but not without a price. Suffering from fatal wounds, Harry knows there is no chance of him surviving; that is, until he's sent back to his parents 7th year- 1978. But there's a catch: he's fifteen months old! With the mental capacity of a eighteen-year old, fifteen-month-old Harry is raised by the Marauders along with one Lily Evans. How will Hogwarts deal with this new addition?
It was finally over; Voldemort was dead, ending the second war. Harry could've laughed at the irony the situation presented him with; he had finally killed Voldemort, but he was dying himself, the wounds from the Dark Spells used by Voldemort taking their toll on him. Funnily enough, Harry wasn't all that surprised; when he started this last battle with Voldemort, he knew there were chances that he might not make it out alive.
'At least I'm taking Voldemort down with me,' Harry thought to himself, slightly amused. His breath becoming shallower with each breath, Harry knew it would be minutes before he passed on.
Smiling, Harry brought himself to his feet, ignoring the immense pain that came with the simple yet arduous task. Taking small steps, The boy-who-lived slowly made his way to his best friends; Hermione, though hit with a couple of bone-breaking curses, was seemingly well off- she had probably taken potions given to her by Poppy, who he could see going around to mend people.
Ron looked a little worse for wear; he had cuts, bruises and lacerations all over his body; he most likely avoided Poppy in favor of checking up on Hermione.
"Harry!" Hermione cried with relief as she saw him hobbling over to them. She rushed over to him with Ron right behind her.
Harry smiled weakly at them; he felt slightly guilty that these would be the last few minutes that they would spend with each other, not that they knew that. He wasn't planning on telling them either.
"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked, a relieved smile on his face.
"Yeah," Harry lied, "I'm doing alright." A tired smile appeared on his face to convince them; sometimes he was glad to be such a good actor.
"Well, we'll have Poppy look over you when she's done with the more critical patients." Hermione said in her ever motherly-voice.
Harry smiled, a truer one this time. He would really miss his friends when he died.
The three chatted, though Harry mainly nodded and shrugged. Ron and Hermione merely took that to be because he was tired. But that wasn't it at all; he was starting to lose his hearing, and black spots started appearing in his eyes.
Shaking his head, Harry was determined to remain alive for as long as he could.
The conversation had gone in the direction of garden gnomes- though Harry didn't know when they had approached the subject- and Harry suddenly felt nauseous. Aiming away from his friends, Harry puked up what he thought to be his breakfast. But it wasn't that. It was blood.
"Oh my God! Harry!" Hermione shrieked loudly, garnering the attention of those who were still up and about. Seeing Thiokol of blood right in front of Harry, they put two and two together. In an instant, Harry was surrounded by familiar faces. Faces that he son wouldn't see.
"Ron…'Mione…" Harry called out, his voice raspy and weak. He knew that this was it; he needed to say goodbye before he left for good.
"Harry! Come on, stay with us!" Hermione exclaimed in a panicked and worried voice. Harry could faintly see the worry on Hermione's face and the horror-struck realization that his best mate came to.
"Harry! You can't die on us. Not now!" Ron cried, his voice going higher.
"It was…fun…" Harry said, the blood that pooled up in his mouth coming out as he spoke. And with those final words, Harry Potter knew no more.
When Harry woke up again, his sight was blurry. Then the action of what he just did jolted through his mind. 'I'm alive?' He thought confused as to how he could be alive. But he felt his heart beating, and he was ecstatic. 'I'm alive!' Blinking again, Harry wanted to see exactly where he was; years of having to watch his back so that he wouldn't get killed had him always checking his surroundings. This wasn't about to change.
Looking around, Harry noticed that things looked a lot bigger than they should be. Also, the place he was resting had little bars just like a crib…Looking down at his hand, Harry saw how small it was.
'Bloody hell,' He thought to himself, 'I've become a toddler. Is that the token for being alive?' He wondered to himself before hearing the door- which he believed to be behind his crib- opened, and he heard voices arguing.
"I tell you, he just appeared on my bed all of a sudden!" One voice-a male's- exclaimed. It sounded extremely familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place it.
"But he looks so much like you Prongs!" A voice, who Harry knew by heart, argued back. Harry almost started crying there. Sirius was alive. But how was that possible? He was supposed to have died when he was pushed through the veil by Bellatrix Lestrange. How could he be alive.
"How do you explain where he comes from then! He's fifteen months old, by the looks of it, and I'm pretty sure I haven't made anyone pregnant!" The other voice, identified as 'Prongs', yelled back.
"Now now you two," said an equally familiar, albeit younger, voice. "If you two don't quiet down, you'll wake him up. Do you want that to happen?"
"Sorry Moony," the two boys apologized, and by the sounds of their voices, they probably were embarrassed.
Harry took this as his time to wake up in front of the boys, as he had had his eyes closed to make them believe he was asleep.
Starting to move a little, Harry yawned, gaining the attention of the three boys.
"Look," said Sirius excitedly, "he's waking up!" The footsteps of the three boys came closer to his crib.
Harry rubbed his eyes with one of his little hands, knowing this to be cute as he had watched girls go gaga over little toddlers who did it.
"Aww, he's so cute," 'Prongs' said, sounding an awful lot like those girls wh fawn over little kids.
"You're acting like a girl, Prongs," Sirius said in what sounded like a teasing tone.
Taking a closer look at the three boys, Harry's eyes came to rest on the one that belonged to 'Prongs'. With a start, he realized that 'Prongs' was his father!
Not showing an outward reaction, Harry looked at the three teenage boys who appeared to be sixteen to seventeen years old. He could see what people meant when they said that he looked exactly like his father only with his mother's eyes.
Wanting to get out of the crib, he raised his short arms up in Remus' direction and said "Up!"
Looking surprised, Remus hesitated before picking Harry up gently. Harry immediately curled up against the teen's firm chest, putting his head in the crook of Remus' shoulder. After making himself comfortable, Harry made sure he had a firm grip on Remus' black robes before falling asleep again. For once in a long time, Harry fell asleep feeling safe.
And there ya go! Please review!