Yet another Peggy-Sue fixit fic by Imouto Kitten

Chapter 2: Harry's Return

Harry awoke in his cot in a nursery that at first glance seemed like it 
was built to accomodate the hypothetical offspring of Hagrid and Madam 
Maxime.  In reality, it wasn't the room that was huge, but Harry who was 
tiny, the wizard who moments before had been a barely grown man who had 
been close to the sole survivor of the worst war wizarding Britain had 
ever seen having awoken within the body of his 15-month-old self.

Harry has no time to contemplate the apparent success of the ritual 
before the quiet of the night is shattered as he hears his father 
announcing Voldemort's arrival and shouting for his mother to take him 
and run.

Magic surges through the toddler's tiny body, the magic of a powerful, 
full grown wizard welling up within a vessel barely able to contain it, 
a body prone to dispelling magic based on its inhabitants emotions, a 
body not yet trained to focus magic through a wand, and yet containing a 
soul that knows how to channel that power and a will that knows exactly 
how to use it. Thanks to the experience and knowledge Harry possesses 
from a future that will never be, instead of the uncontrolled bursts of 
accidental magic young wizards are known for, Harry directs his magic 
through this young body, untethered by years of training with a wand to 
act upon his will.

With a crack, Harry vanishes from his cot to reappear, floating in 
midair between his father and the Dark Lord, surprising both of the 
older wizards.

Voldemort is the first to recover from the shock of a mere child 
apparating in front of the most feared being in Britain as he declares, 
"Not even old enough to walk, and yet my prophecized foe already shows 
that foolish Griffindor courage his family is known for. Perhaps I won't 
need to shed the blood of a pureblood unnecessarily to eliminate you as 
a threat."

His mind catching up to the situation, James yells, "HARRY! Get away 
from him!"

Both of the destined opponents ignore the young man's words as the tip 
of Voldemort's wand glows green as the killing curse slithers over the 
Dark Lord's tongue, "Avada Ka-" but before Voldemort can finish the 
incantation, Harry flings himself at the man that in another life left 
him an orphan, pudgy fingers grasping the yew wand and messy, black hair 
colliding with slitted nostrils.

Though the young body Harry now inhabits has never met either of the 
Fawkes Feather Wands before this night , the soul inhabiting it 
remembers being chosen by the Holly Wand and gaining the loyalty of the 
Yew Wand by besting its master. Voldemort's wand recognizes Harry as 
master of its brother and having bested its master even if it had 
happened in a future that would never be, and so rejects the Dark Lord, 
the green curse dying on its tip as the scarlett of a disarming charm 
sends Voldemort flying, his wand gripped tightly in the tiny hands of 
its new master.

At the same time, Harry's soul also remembers the sacrifice Lily Potter 
made to protect her son in another lifetime, and as Voldemort's current 
body is not the result of a ritual that incorporated Harry's blood, the 
Dark Lord has no defense against that protection, the brief contact from 
Harry's headbutt enough to leave the immortal Wizard's snake-like face 
badly burned, and as Harry now has a body that has yet to be scarred and 
made an accidental Horcrux, the contact results in no backlash for the 
young wizard.

Clutching his injured face, Voldemort staggers to his feet as he screams 
in outrage, "How is this possible! How could a mere child so 
effortlessly disarm me and injure me so. I am Lord Voldemort, the 
greatest wizard who ever lived!" As he drops his hand, glowing red eyes 
meet defiantt green, Harry having floated up to stare down the Dark 
Lord. Casting a silent Legelimens, he tries to plunder the infant's mind 
for the secret of how a mere child managed to harm him, but is only met 
with visions of his destroyed Horcruxes and his own mangled corpse lying 
among the fallen from the Battle of Hogwarts.

"NO! This is impossible! I cannot be defeated!" cries the Dark Lord in 
denial of the memories he sees in his destined foe's mind as he tries 
to strangle the child with his bare hands, refusing to let go even as 
his palms start to smolder. All the while, the child maintains that 
infuriating, defiant expression and feels no pain as the protection 
burns Voldemort and prevents him from squeezing tight enough around 
Harry's neck to cause discomfort, much less do any damage. As the Dark 
Lord wastes impotent rage in a futile attempt to strangle the life out 
of the child of prophesy, Harry wills his magic to bind the Dark Lord in 
place.

By the time Voldemort realizes the damage his body is taking just from 
maintaining contact with the child, it is too late to escape, and as the 
grip around his throat slackens, Harry throws himself against 
Voldemort's chest, the Dark Lord screaming in agony as the protection 
starts to burn through his body's vital organs.

Within a minute of the Dark Lord trying to murder the child the muggle 
way, the Dark Lord's body is too badly damaged to serve as host for what 
remains of his tattered soul. As a wraith raises from the destroyed 
body, Harry grips it in tiny, pudgy hands, the pathetic spirit 
struggling in the infant's grip.

Wishing he had the means to either seal Voldemort's spirit to prevent 
any attempt at finding or making a new body or to sever its connection 
to the Horcruxes, Harry glares at the wispy, ethereal form clutched in 
his hands, only able to hold on to it because his magic is antithetical 
to Voldemort as long as his mother's sacrifice remains active, Harry 
tries to speak for the first time since awakening in the past, 
15-month-old vocal cords barely cooperating as he hisses, "Bad man hurt 
no one ever 'gain!" before allowing the specter to flee, hoping that, if 
he can't get rid of the Horcruxes before Voldemort regains a body, that 
he's managed to scare the vile wizard enough to not pursue vengeance.

The threat dealt with, Harry turns to his father, and with a delighted 
squeal of "DAAAA!" hurls himself at the older wizard. James is confused 
by what just happened, but is too relieved that his son is safe and that 
Voldemort is apparently gone to care.

Having found Harry's cot empty and hearing the agonized screams giving 
way to silence, Lily quietly creeps back to the living room with her 
wand at the ready, and upon seeing the two most important men in her 
life unharmed and the only signs Voldemort was ever there a cinged robe 
and a discarded wand, she runs forth to embrace her family as relief 
washes over her.

Harry knows it isn't over yet, but for the time being is content to bask 
in the warmth of his parents' love for the first time he can remember, 
setting aside what he needs to do to ensure Voldemort never has the 
chance to have a second reign of terror.