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Journey back To The Past and his Prime CH.2
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 11:58:26 +0000 UTCHarry's eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, his heart hammering in his chest. He gasped for breath, his mind a blur of confusion and fear as he tried to regain his bearings. The last thing he remembered was the excruciating pain as his body was torn apart, turning into atoms from whatever that thing was that had appeared in his bedroom.
Harry had no idea how the hell he was still alive after something like that. His hands shook as he frantically patted down his body, half-expecting to find himself mangled from the magical phenomenon that he had encountered just moments ago. But somehow, as if by a miracle, he seemed to be perfectly alright. He checked his arms, legs, chest, and face—expecting to find some damage on his body but everything was okay. There was no blood, no broken bones, just a faint tingling in his limbs that was already going away.
"What the—?" Harry muttered, his voice trembling as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the cold floor. He quickly stood up, almost stumbling on his feet as it felt like his head was spinning. He waited for the spell of dizziness to pass before taking stock of the situation he found himself in.
As he looked around his surroundings, Harry started as he realized that he wasn't in Grimmauld Place anymore.
The small, cramped room around him had a peculiar sense of familiarity, stirring something deep in his memory, as if begging to be recognized. Harry's brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to place the room. The sparsely furnished space was dominated by a narrow, lumpy bed, covered by a threadbare blanket. The walls, a dull shade of beige, were marred by peeling wallpaper, revealing patches of faded paint underneath. There was also a small wardrobe in one corner, its doors slightly ajar, revealing a few pieces of oversized Muggle clothing that had been out of fashion for at least two decades. Beside the bed, Harry noticed a tattered trunk lying open on the floor, its contents—robes, spellbooks, and potion ingredients—haphazardly strewn inside. The entire place had a cold, uninviting feel, making Harry wonder what poor soul lived in such a miserable space.
All in all, Harry felt unsettled. Everything around him seemed so familiar, yet for the life of him, he couldn't pinpoint where he had seen it all before. Then, a soft hoot from the windowsill brought everything into sharp clarity. As he turned toward the sound, one he hadn't heard in such a long time, Harry's eyes filled with tears as he saw his first friend, Hedwig. The beautiful snowy owl sat inside her cage, preening her feathers before tilting her head at him in a curious manner. Harry chuckled as the realization finally dawned on him—this was his old bedroom at the Dursleys', where he had spent many thoroughly miserable summers away from Hogwarts.
No wonder Harry had trouble recognizing this place at first. He had buried his memories of living with the Dursleys so deeply within his Occlumency shields that they now lay hidden in the darkest corner of his mind, never to resurface and torment him again. It was only the painfully familiar sound of Hedwig's greeting that brought forth the memories of his time at Privet Drive to the forefront of Harry's mind.
Unable to believe what he was seeing, Harry hesitantly approached Hedwig's cage. He removed the lock keeping her confined and, with a soft flutter of wings, Hedwig soared out and settled gracefully on his shoulder. Harry smiled, feeling the warmth of her presence as the snowy owl ruffled her feathers and let out a soft bark, happy for the chance to be able to stretch her wings. He gently caressed her soft, velvety head, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch before affectionately nipping at his fingers with her beak.
Harry laughed. "Merlin, I've missed you, Hedwig," he said in a soft voice.
Hedwig's amber eyes met his, and she let out a soft, contented trill before pressing her head against his hand again.
After giving her a couple more scratches on the head, Harry opened the window, allowing Hedwig to fly out so she could go hunt. As she disappeared in the distance, it was time for Harry to finally focus his attention on what this all meant. Somehow, he had been mysteriously transported from his bedroom at Grimmauld Place to his childhood home at the Dursleys'. Not to mention, Hedwig, who had been dead for more than twenty years, was inexplicably alive again.
Harry looked around the room again, this time seeing things with much clearer eyes. He immediately recognized the oversized clothes in the wardrobes as Dudley's hand-me-downs— given to him by Aunt Petunia at the start of every summer. There was also his trunk on the floor, filled with his school uniform, books, scrolls, and other miscellaneous items including his friends' letters. Harry felt like he was having a strange case of déjà vu as everything in the room was arranged exactly as he remembered it from twenty years ago when he lived there. It felt as though someone had peered into his memories and recreated the room from them. Even his precious invisibility cloak and his parents' photo album were hidden underneath the same loose floorboard he used to keep them stashed during the holidays.
Harry scratched his head in confusion. It felt like someone was playing a prank on him, but he couldn't sense any magical presence nearby. Moreover, everything seemed too real to be an illusion or a fabrication. When Hedwig had flown away, Harry had managed to catch a glimpse out of the window. Even from that brief look, he was certain that he was on Privet Drive. The neighbourhood had appeared just as it did in his memories with identical houses, with neat lawns and trimmed hedges but devoid of any individuality or creativity.
Taking everything into account, Harry's first thought was that he had somehow travelled back in time, if he didn't know it was impossible. However, just as the thought crossed his mind, Harry realized then that his body felt wrong for some reason. His limbs felt awkward like they weren't their usual length. Harry's centre of gravity was also affected, making it a struggle for him to maintain his balance all of a sudden.
Harry steadied himself before he could lose his balance by placing his hand against the wall. His heart beating inside his chest, he looked down at his body. Harry's eyes widened in shock as he noticed just how thin he was. His lanky body was practically swimming in one of Dudley's oversized red t-shirts. There was no sign of the beautifully sculpted muscles that Harry had gained later in life through hard work and Kreacher's delicious cooking. His arms were practically the size of twigs!
Harry shook his head in bewilderment. He couldn't believe this was really happening—it had to be a joke! Flustered and panicking, he desperately scanned the room, hoping to find something to disprove his absurd theory. His eyes landed on his holly and phoenix wand on the nightstand. Summoning it to his hand, Harry waved it in front of him and whispered, "Revelare diem et tempus."
Instantly, smoky green letters began to materialize in the air before him, glowing softly. Harry's stomach plummeted as he read them. They read, "July 5, 1996, 12:48 AM." The wand slipped from Harry's grasp as he staggered back in shock. Feeling like he was going to pass out from the revelation, Harry stumbled and made his way to the narrow bed, sitting down on the edge of it. He placed his head between his knees and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Once he was sure there were no more black spots dancing in front of his eyes, he decided to focus on the task at hand.
In the end, Harry was sure that the spell couldn't be wrong. As a result, there was no denying it now, he had definitely travelled back in time.
"What the fuck?!" Harry said out loud, laughing in disbelief. How the hell had he travelled back in time?! That was supposed to be impossible! And Harry knew that with certainty because he had researched it dozens of times after the Ministry had turned his life to shit.
Well, it seemed like he had missed something. Because he was definitely back in time— to the summer of '96.
1996! Harry's eyes widened. That was before he had defeated Voldemort.
Harry squinted his eyes as he tried to remember what was going on during this time period. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and diving deep into his occlumency shields until he arrived at his mind palace. Immediately, memories began to flash past in front of Harry's mind, giving him everything he needed to know about this timeframe.
Harry felt a pang in his chest as he realized Sirius was already dead, killed in the Department of Mysteries by his cousin Bellatrix. If only he had arrived a month earlier, Harry could have saved his godfather. It would've been nice to get to know the man better this time. Still, it was an old ache that Harry was used to by now, so he moved past it. More memories flashed through Harry's mind, and he realized with a start that this was also the year Dumbledore died. The venerable old man was already cursed by the Gaunt ring.
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, Dumbledore had orchestrated events throughout his life— like, leaving him with the Dursleys and testing him with dangerous, life-threatening situations at every opportunity—but those machinations had also ensured he survived against the Dark Lord.
In the end, Harry decided it was better that Dumbledore was going to die. The old wizard would only step in Harry's way when he realized his pawn was no longer following his orders but going down his own path.
And Harry was determined to do things his way this time. He had no intention of wasting this second chance. No matter what, he was going to ensure that his life didn't turn out like it did before. This time Harry was going to make sure the public knew who their hero was when he defeated Voldemort. He was not going to fade into the background, shying away from cameras and interviews, allowing the ministry to spin their own narrative in which he was working on their orders. This time he was going to make sure he was the most famous person in the wizarding world.
A pleased smile curled Harry's lips as he imagined how things would unfold this time. He would have everything he wanted: all the money, fame, power, and the beautiful witches he desired. If things turned out according to his plan, there was no way Susan Bones was ever going to refuse him and call him boring. She would throw herself on him, desperate for his attention.
Before he could slip further into his daydreams, Harry's eyes snapped open as he realized he had already made a mistake.
"Damn it! You bloody idiot," Harry growled in frustration, punching his leg as the realization hit him—he was still underage and had just used magic outside of school. Someone at the Improper Use of Magic Office must've been alerted, and a warning was likely on its way to him.
In the end, it wasn't the warning that troubled Harry. He was sure it was likely going to be a gentle slap on the wrist and nothing too serious. However, the thing that bothered Harry was that Dumbledore was also going to be notified of something like this.
Harry didn't want the Headmaster to get curious about what was going on with him too soon. He wanted a few days to prepare himself until he had more firm control of the situation.
Unfortunately, that seemed unlikely now.
Harry's heart pounded as he stared out the window of his bedroom, waiting with his heart in his mouth for the letter from the Ministry of Magic to arrive, but minutes passed and it never came.
Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. If he was back in his sixteen-year-old body, surely the trace was back on him. 'Unless...the sensors don't take into account the physical age of an individual, but how old the soul of a person is.' thought Harry to himself as a wide smile spread across his face. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Harry jumped to his feet, eager to test it out. He quickly snatched his wand up from the floor and waved it in a circle, applying a silencing charm on the room.
Once he was sure no sound would escape his bedroom, Harry let loose. For the next half hour, he used spells after spell, practising his entire non-destructive spell repertoire until his body was aching and he was covered in sweat. When he was finally finished, Harry couldn't help but laugh in delight. He couldn't help but jump around in excitement as he realized what this meant. "Yes! Now, we're talking," he shouted in glee.
Now that the magic behind the underage tracking system no longer considered him an underage wizard, a world of opportunity had opened up for Harry. He could use magic outside of school, leveraging his future knowledge to his advantage.
As he lay down to get some sleep, Harry realized he couldn't wait to get started. After years of living a boring life in the other timeline, he was ready to have some fun.
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After all the excitement during the night, Harry woke up late in the afternoon. Getting up from the bed, he realized his body felt refreshed and bursting with energy. Harry quickly finished his bathroom routine before going downstairs to get himself something to eat. One of Harry's top priorities was to put some meat on his bones—he honestly looked like half a skeleton at the moment.
As Harry hurried down the stairs, he noticed the three Dursleys sitting in the living room, enjoying their Sunday evening tea. Aunt Petunia gave him a curious look as he made his way toward the kitchen and grabbed a loaf of bread along with some ham and cheese.
While Harry started to make himself some sandwiches, his aunt followed him into the kitchen.
"Harry!" she snapped, her horse-like face pinched with irritation. "Why didn't you wake up earlier? You were supposed to have breakfast ready! And what about lunch? Do you expect us to wait all day while you laze around? Honestly, what do you think this is—some sort of a holiday inn? You have to earn your keep around here, you stupid child!"
Harry's right eye began to twitch as he listened to Aunt Petunia's tirade. He opened his mouth to respond, but she rudely cut him off. Apparently, she was just getting started.
"And another thing!" she continued, her voice rising. "Why didn't you open the door when I knocked? I was there for ages, pounding on that door. Do you have any idea how long I stood there waiting? You could at least show some respect and answer when you're called, boy!"
She folded her arms, glaring at him as if daring him to make an excuse.
Harry waited until Aunt Petunia had finished before glancing at her over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Are you done now?" he asked her calmly before returning his attention to his work.
Petunia's pale blue eyes narrowed at his cheekiness. "Excuse me!" she hissed in anger, unable to believe her ears.
"I said, are you done now?" Harry continued in the same calm tone as he sliced some ham and placed it between two slices of bread along with cheese, not giving her any real attention. "It's just that I'm really hungry right now, and your screeching isn't helping anyone."
Petunia's face flushed a deep red, her anger visibly boiling over. "How dare you speak to me like that!" she snapped at Harry, her voice trembling with fury. "Vernon! Come here at once!"
Moments later, Vernon Dursley lumbered into the room, his expression curious as he looked between his wife and nephew. "What is it, Pet? Is there a problem?" he asked Petunia.
"Your nephew," Harry's aunt replied, her voice tight with frustration, "is being insubordinate and rude, Vernon. I think he needs to be taught a lesson."
Vernon's beady little eyes narrowed into slits at his wife's words. His meaty fists clenched with anger as Harry continued to ignore everyone present, his back turned to them as he prepared his food at the kitchen island. Unable to tolerate such disrespect from a "freak" like him, Vernon approached Harry with his nostrils flaring. "How dare you be disrespectful to your aunt, boy?" he growled, grabbing Harry's shoulder and turning him to face him. "Well, I think it's high time someone put you in your place."
Vernon raised his hand to teach the boy some manners, but instead, he found himself blasted off his feet and slammed into the wall some twenty feet behind him. The large man slumped to the floor in a heap, dazed and groaning in pain. Meanwhile, Petunia, who had been watching in anticipation as her husband disciplined the brat, was shocked by the sudden turn of events. She let out a piercing shriek, her face pale and eyes wide with fear before she quickly ran toward her husband to check if he was alright.
As Aunt Petunia helped a dazed Uncle Vernon to his feet, Harry withdrew his wand from his sleeve and approached them slowly. He twirled it between his fingers, ensuring they could see it clearly. As anticipated, both of them lost whatever colour remained on their faces.
They both exchanged a nervous glance before Harry's aunt, her face pale and trembling, managed to say shakily, "W-what do you think you're doing, Harry? You know you're not allowed to use magic outside of school."
Harry smiled back at his relatives. They both shivered. It was not a nice smile.
"Things have changed, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, allowing himself a small smirk. "A new law has been put into place, allowing muggle-borns like me to use magic as much as we want at home."
His words caused both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to squeak in fright, their eyes wide with terror as they took a step back. Petunia's hand flew to her mouth, while Vernon's face twisted into a mask of sheer panic.
"Th-they can't do that!" Vernon stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It would be madness!"
Harry grinned, thoroughly enjoying the look of absolute horror on their faces. It was so fun messing around with them. "Oh, but they've already done it, Uncle Vernon. Now, I can show you guys just how much I've learnt at school. Wouldn't that be fun?" he asked them in a dark voice.
Petunia's legs wobbled, and she grabbed Vernon's arm for support. Her voice trembled as she pleaded, "Harry, please, let's not make this difficult. We'll do whatever you want, just—just don't hurt us."
Harry's expression remained unreadable as he took a step closer, savouring their fear. It was so cathartic to get some revenge after all these years, especially after the psychological damage their treatment of him left on his psyche. Finally, after a few seconds, Harry decided he had his fun. He gave Aunt Petunia a winning smile. "Alright, if that's what you want, Aunt Petunia," he told her cheerfully. "I think it would be best for everyone if I'm left alone to my own devices and nobody bothered me. "
"Yes, yes, I think that would be best," Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon both agreed, nodding in unison. Aunt Petunia then called into the living room in a loud voice.
"Dudley! Duddikins, come here, darling!" she shouted for her son.
Dudley arrived moments later, his face flushed with curiosity and his shirt smeared with frosting. It looked like he had been in the middle of a cake-eating spree. He trudged into the room, his large frame taking up most of the doorway.
"What is it, Mum?" he asked, wiping a smear of frosting off his cheek with the back of his hand. He glanced at Harry, a mix of confusion and apprehension in his blue eyes.
Aunt Petunia gestured towards Harry with a forced smile. "Dudley, dear, Harry and I were just having a bit of a discussion. I think it's best if we all keep our distance from him from now on."
"But why?" Dudley asked, staring at his mother with a confused expression.
Harry snorted. Clearly, his cousin had missed all the excitement, too busy stuffing his face with cakes and pastries.
Aunt Petunia quickly shushed her son. "I'll explain later, sweetheart. For now, please come and help me take your father to the bedroom. He isn't feeling well," she said, clearly struggling to support her husband's bulk.
As the family of three began heading upstairs, Harry covertly cast a healing charm on his uncle's back. He might despise the man, but he had no intention of killing him.
Finally alone once again, Harry decided to take stock of his situation. He summoned his plate of sandwiches from the kitchen and settled down to eat at the dining table. First things first, Harry needed to improve his physique. He was far too weak right now. Even last night, he was completely spent after using magic for only half an hour. That was all the proof he needed to know that his magical reserves and stamina were shit.
Harry concluded that he needed a proper diet, exercises and a cauldron full of nutritional potions to get back into shape. Until then, he was only a liability in any fight he decided to involve himself in.
Luckily, two of these things had simple solutions. Harry could get the food he needed from the local supermarket and do exercise in the park or in his bedroom. But how the hell was he supposed to get nutrition potions from Diagon Alley without people recognizing him in the streets? Harry was not allowed to leave the Dursleys' place in the summer and he didn't want anybody from the order to recognize him in the Wizarding District and inform Dumbledore about it.
Harry realized with a start that he needed a minion. Someone who would work on his behalf and not divulge any of his secrets. Now, only if he could find someone that loyal.
Suddenly, Harry's eyes lit up as he realized he had the perfect person for the job.
Comments
Andrew
Will you be making anymore chapters?
mrblackcat31
I am late... but welcome back💪
