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Summary
James Potter slowly opened his eyes.
'What in Merlin's name...?'
He was standing in front of a mirror, shirtless. Green eyes and a nasty scar in the shape of a lightning bolt disrupted his otherwise recognizable face. His hands on instinct roamed the contours of his chest and stomach. Where did his eight pack go? He looked skinny and pale, as if he hadn't eaten well in months. Was he sick?
"POTTER??"
He sharply turned around. An old hag was staring at him with a bewildered expression on her face. Her robes were parted in the front. That's funny; she looked a little like Snivellus, if Snivellus hadn't aged well and suddenly had a large pair of boobs. She continued to gap at him like a fish. "Y-you - what-"
She stumbled forward, all breath seeming to flee from her. Her hand clutched onto the wall nearest to her. When she apparently overcame her shock, she stared back up at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "What are you doing here, Potter? Are you wanting the Dark Lord to kill you!"
Or,
A story in which a very confused James Potter is sent from the year 1978 into 1998 and into the body of his son. Fem!Snape