Hey my name is harryginnyfan91 and this is my first fan fiction. I have been reading fan fiction for a while but this is the first one I have ever written. I don't agree with people when they say that a plotline is over used because everyone makes it their own with their own little and sometime there are really good ones but in my opinion the pairings suck.

Summery: This is a redo fic. I have found a lot of redo fics and I like most of them. When it comes to Harry Potter I am very picky about who Harry is paired with. I love Ginny, so she should in my opinion be put with Harry. I absolutely hate Harry/Hermione. Hermione is more of a sister to Harry. Out of all the redo fics I have read, there are barely any where Harry comes back to the summer before his third year. So that is where this one starts. I am not going to go into how he was sent back because the point he was not sent in body but in mind and soul, and is not going to try and figure it how. Most of the characters are going to be OOC.

Pairings: the only defiant one is Harry/Ginny I am undecided on the others. But I am going to have Sirius Black/OC, and Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Saving Lives, of those I Love

Chapter One

Marge and Kreacher

Last night Harry Potter was your 'normal' thirteen year old boy; of course he was a wizard. A fact that his Aunt and her Husband Vernon hated him for, even though it wasn't his fault, However this morning when he woke up he wasn't really thirteen, he was a twenty-seven year old man, of course not in body. When he woke up and seen his body his first thought was, 'Ginny's going to kill me.' Ginny, his wife had a temper to match her beautiful red hair. Harry knew that it was probably his birthday but the question was what the year was. Harry decided that he would act as 'normal' as he could.

Harry went down stairs for breakfast to find the three Dursley's already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Harry figured that if this was the same television it would have to be the summer before his third year. A plan began to formulate in Harry's head. The first thing he would do would be write Professor Dumbledore and inform him of his new 'dog'.

Harry sat down between Dudley and Vernon, a large beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room. Harry helped himself to a piece of toast and then smiled as he looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict:

"… The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sightings of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!" Harry felt a surge of anger at what Vernon had said about one of the most caring people in the world.

Vernon shot a nasty sideways look at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Vernon. Compared to Sirius's, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed. On the other hand Ginny did love how his hair always had that 'just of the broom' look.

The reporter had reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today –"

"Hang on!" barked Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where the maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!" Harry gave a small smile and a silent chuckle, because he knew exactly where his godfather had escaped from.

Aunt Petunia, who was boney and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out the kitchen window. Harry knew that Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.

"When will they learn," Said Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's are the only way to deal with these people?" Harry so wanted to say something and smack Vernon, but in order to save Sirius this year he would have to stay as low-key as possible for Harry Potter.

"Very true," said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner beans.

Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

Harry knew that he was going to say that. When he woke up he had decided that he would Try to keep as much to the original timeline as possible.

"Aunt Marge?" he blurted out. "Sh – she's not coming here, is she?

Aunt Marge was Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), he had been forced to call her "Aunt" all his life. Which he promptly stop after the event that would take place in less than a weeks time. Marge lived in the country, with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry's mind.

"Mare will be here for a week," Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject" – he pointed a fat finger threateningly (which didn't effect him) at Harry – "We need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Vernon, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"All right, said Harry bitterly, "If she does when she is talking to me."

"Secondly, said Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, I don't want any – any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," said Harry through gritted teeth. This was really starting to get annoying.

"And thirdly," said Vernon, his mean little eye now slits in his great purple face "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurable Criminal Boys."

Harry couldn't resist any longer, "Won't Fudge be so proud."

Vernon didn't even hear what Harry had said. "And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," spat Vernon.

Harry sat there staring at Vernon. Marge coming for a week-long visit – it was the worst birthday present the Dursley had ever given him, including a pair of Vernon's old socks. Although this time it might not be so bad, he could really piss her off.

"Well, Petunia," said Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Vernon had finished with Harry.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bowtie."

Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder. "See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen. Harry, abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Vernon to the front door.

Vernon was pulling on his car coat. "I'm not taking you," he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him.

"Like I wanted to come," Harry said coldly. After all of the year he had known Vernon he still hated him. "I wanted to ask you sometime." Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes," said Harry.

"So?" snapped Vernon, taking his car keys from the hook next to the door.

"I need you to sign the permission form," said Harry looking Vernon in the eyes.

"And why should I do that?" sneered Vernon.

Harry smirked this was going to be better that the last time. This time he would get Vernon to sign it. "Well you know that convict that was just on the news?" Vernon nodded. "Well he escaped from the Azkaban prison and he wants me dead." Vernon almost smiled when he heard this. "Well you see if you sign this form, I have permission to leave the school, where there are no teachers to protect me so I might just end up dead. Now isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Vernon reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and grabbed the form out of Harry's hand. He quickly signed it and shoved it back into Harry's hands before rushing out the door. He was all for a chance to get Harry killed.

Harry smirked; he had gotten his way without even really trying. Harry didn't return to the Kitchen. He went back upstairs to write a letter to Dumbledore. Harry gathered all of his presents and birthday cards and hid them all under the loose floorboard, with his homework. He then walked over to his desk and brought over two pieces of parchment.

The first read:

Dear Weasley Family,

Would you please look after Hedwig for me? It will only be for about a week, but she can't be here. Vernon's sister Marge is coming and I have to act like I am a muggle for the time being. Please and thank you.

Harry

P.S. I got a dog this summer, his name is Snuffles.

The second read:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

This June I was allowed to keep a dog that had followed me home from the park one day. He is an excellent animal, and so well behaved. I don't really want to leave him with the Dursley's this September, while I go off to school. I was hoping that you would allow him to accompany me to Hogwarts. I promise that he won't get in the way. In fact ever since I was allowed to keep him he has barely left my side. He seems to be extremely protective of me. Please, I hope you will allow me to take him to Hogwarts with me.

Sincerely,

Harry J. Potter

P.S. His name is Snuffles.

Harry looked over his letter and signed. Hopefully this would work out the way he wanted it to. He walked over to Hedwig's cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. Harry again sighed, then poked them both awake.

"Hedwig," he said gloomily, "you're going to have to clear off for a week. I have a letter for you to deliver to Dumbledore then go find Ginny. She'll look after you. I wrote a note, explaining. And don't you look at me like that" – Hedwig's large amber eyes were reproachful – "it's not my fault. It's only for a week and we wouldn't want to ruin my big finish. Now would we."

Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a letter for Dumbledore and a note for the Weasley's') soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the cage away inside the wardrobe. He missed Ginny more than any of the other Weasley's but he needed to get to know her first.

But Harry didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.

"Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall.

Harry couldn't resist doing what his dad would have done in this situation. He ruffled his hair even more and smiled at her. "There I did something about it. Now it has that 'just off the broom' look." Harry smirked when his Aunt let out a little scream at the mention of a flying broom. Besides he couldn't see the point in trying to make his hair lie flat. Marge love criticizing him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car's doors and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.

A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open.

On the threshold stood Marge. She was very like Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.

"Where's my Dudders? Roared Marge. "Where's my neffy-poo?"

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his flat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.

Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Marge's hugs because he was paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note in his fat hand.

"Petunia!" shouted Marge, striding past Harry as though he was a hat stand. Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather; Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia's boney cheekbone. Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.

"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase. But Harry wasn't complaining; any excuse not to be near Marge was fine by him, so he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom taking as long as he could.

By the time he got back to the kitchen, Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Vernon asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Marge. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor Ripper. He pines if he's away from me." Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. This directed Marge's attention to Harry for the first time.

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Don't say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Marge growled. "It's damn food of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep."

Harry smirked. "Yes, well I guess that I'm lucky that Dumbledore dumped me here." Said Harry.

"Don't you smirk at me!" boomed Marge. "I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hope school would knock some manners into you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it you send him, again, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus's," Said Vernon promptly. It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."

"I see," said Marge. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?" she barked across the table.

Vernon nodded behind Marge and Harry decided to play along. "Yes," said harry, feeling he might as well do the thing properly added, "All the time." Of course no one in the room could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

"Excellent," said Marge. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what'd needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?"

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, "Loads of times." Marge narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't like your tone, boy," she said. "If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy's case."

Perhaps Vernon thought Harry might let something slip; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly. "Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

------------------------------------------------

As Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking of life at number four without her. Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could out suggestions for his improvement. She kind of reminded Harry of how Umbridge acted during Harry's fifth year. She delighted comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person.

Harry was an adult and shouldn't let her get a rise out of him, especially because almost everything she said was not true. There where a few times that when she said something Harry didn't get angry, no he was close to laughing at times. Just thinking about what Ginny would do to this woman if she ever met her.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Harry knew that this would be coming, so he tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger. 'Why must she do this? Insult me? Go ahead. But my parents?' Harry thought. 'Calm down Harry. Don't say anything. Don't rise –'

Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup –"

At that moment, the wineglass Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping. 'Now that is what I call fun. Got to make the best of my last few days here.' Harry thought.

"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"

Harry decided to skip dessert, because Aunt Petunia and Vernon were looking at him suspiciously. Harry headed up stairs. When he arrived in his room there was a large barn owl waiting on his bed, a letter attached to its legs. Harry took the letter and the owl flew away. Harry looked at the letter and recognized the writing. It was from Dumbledore.

Dear Mr. Potter,

If you new dog is as well behaved as you say, then, I see no problem with allowing you to bring him to school with you. The way you have described him, Snuffles, sound like a magnificent animal. I look forward to meeting him.

Sincerely,

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, first class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Grand Sorcerer

Harry smiled; now all he had to do was get his hands on Sirius.

----------------------------------------------

Harry got through the next three days by thinking of Ginny and flying on a broom again whenever Marge started on him. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give him a glazed look, because Marge started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal.

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's Stay arrived. Harry was excited because he could finally get out of here. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine, of course Harry would harry preferred Fire Whiskey than wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry's faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunning, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

'Show time!' Harry thought when he saw Vernon with the brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that … and a bit more … that's the ticket."

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry was getting excited to be able to leave this place. He was a master of wandless magic so it would look like a simple accident.

"Aah," said Marge, smacking her lips and putting the brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me in the evening, with twelve dogs to look after…." She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like a healthy sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father." Harry at this wanted to laugh, "Yes, I'll have spot more brandy, Vernon…."

"Now, this one here –"

She jerked her head at Harry. 'Stay calm until the right moment.' Harry thought.

"This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."

Harry had to remind himself to stay calm, he thought of Ginny.

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" – she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one – "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."

Harry was staring at his late, a funny ringing in his ears. Ginny was not the best thing to think about in this situation. Marge's voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Vernon's drills and thinking about Ginny's temper didn't help.

"This Potter," said Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

"He – didn't work," said Vernon, with a half-glance at Harry. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who –"

"He was not," said Harry suddenly. The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. Obviously Ginny had been rubbing off on him.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on –"

"No, Vernon," hiccupped Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) –"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" said Harry who found himself on his feet.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful, little –"Her mouth kept moving but no words were coming out anymore. Harry had hit her with a silencing spell.

Harry turned to his Aunt, she looked scared.

"This was never my home. It will never be my home. I am leaving and I have no intention of ever returning." Harry had no idea what he was doing but he was going to do what he would do in the future. "Kreacher!" To Harry's surprise the house-elf appeared in front of him looking as loyal to him as he did in the future.

"Master, calls?" Kreacher asked Harry respectfully.

"Kreacher, gather all of my things from this house and bring me my wand. I am leavening and never coming back." Kreacher did as he was told and five minutes brought his master his wand. Harry turned and left. Kreacher followed. "Take my things to the manor, I will be there soon. " Kreacher left.

AN: There you have it the first chapter. Please review and tell me what you think. Any idea's for pairings. I was sort of thinking of Fred/Hermione what do you think of that one? Let me know. I also only accept constructive criticism. Please review.