Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise; That all belongs to JK Rowling and various other people. I don't earn a dime off of this. If you recognize it, it isn't mine. We all get inspired, both from published authors and from other FF-writers, but I won't try to name them, as they also got inspired from somewhere.
A/N: I'm not a native English speaker, and my English will therefore not be perfect. I do, however, know the difference between your and you're. If you see any mistakes that rub you the wrong way, please send me a PM. I am still at school, meaning that this is a sort of secondary hobby and that I am by no means a talented or experienced writer, so a beta would be appreciated. If I for some reason decides that I do not have the time or motivation to continue this fic, then I will let someone else continue in the case this actually gets a decent amount of followers.
Summary: Harry Potter was thought to have been killed by his abusive aunt and uncle. Instead, he had somehow ended up a thousand years in the past a seemingly random place in Scotland. After being taught more magic than most even knew about, he decides to return to the era he left. The only problem being he now is 21 years old instead of 10 and doesn't even look the slightest alike to when he left. In a confusing and very different age, he looks towards what he is truly comfortable with; Hogwarts.
Tags: Mild Abuse, Slightly Dark!Harry, Slytherin!Harry, Time-travel, AU, Teacher!Harry, Pureblood!Harry, Heir to Slytherin, Powerfull!Harry, Wandless Magic.
Chapter 1:As time turns
As Harry woke up that morning, he felt sore. He had felt like this quite a few times in his relatively short life. The day before had, as usual, been spend doing gardening, cooking, cleaning, laundering, car-washing and various other chores activities around the house. He had been trying his best to do a proper job of all of his duties, but still ended up missing a number of chores. This had resulted in him being thrown into his room, if you could call a broom closet that, and going to bed without food.
His uncle did not hit him that much - just a few smacks, when he got especially infuriated, but never more than that. Therefore, Harry never told anyone as it would only cause trouble for him. It was not as if he couldn't take a slap or two once in a while.
All of this was simply the daily routines of the 10, soon to be 11, year old boy. He had just gone on summer holiday from school, not that it involved much holidaying for him, and spent his, albeit scarce, free time reading various books.
From the age of six, Harry had noticed that whenever he needed something very much, he would magically get it, be it for his hair to grow out again or for him to escape his cousin and his friends.
Harry was a very smart boy, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried to suppress that fact, and had quickly figured out that the happenings that tended to evolve around him in times of need weren't anywhere near normal. With that in mind, he started to research if anyone else had this happen to them. The simple answer was no; at least outside the realm of fiction.
Today was Dudley's birthday. For Harry that had meant preparing a pompous breakfast, before the Dursleys headed off to the zoo with Dudley's friends. Meanwhile, Harry was going to stay at Mrs. Figg, most likely spending his day at the library in yet another research session. This did, in fact, turn out to be the case and, therefore, as he walked towards the Dursleys' house, the last thing he expected was bumping into a weird looking man, arms full of piles of paper and various strange looking things and clad in long robes. Before Harry could even voice an apology, he was interrupted. "Harry Potter?" The strange man before him had muttered out in disbelief. This caught Harry off guard, as he wondered, 'How can this stranger know my name?' Atlas he managed to get out a questioning "Yes?"
"Oh, it is truly an honor to meet you, sir." The stranger said, joy visible in his eyes,
"Ehm okay… How so?" Harry now intriguingly questioned.
"What do you mean 'How so'? Surely your greatest achievement is still the defeat of you-know-who, or what?" The still not introduced man asked in a combination of doubt and excitement at what would hopefully be a fantastic tale.
"Have we meet or something, as you seem to know me while I can't say the same about you?"
"Oh I'm so sorry; Dingerus Babbleton's the name, and of course who don't know you? I mean even from birth, the children are told of your stories."
At this, Harry started to wonder what in God's name this man was rambling about.
"Are you sure you're not confusing me with someone else, Mr. Babbleton?"
"No. How could I with that scar of yours?" He asked becoming more confused by the second
With that, it became too much for Harry. 'Is he delusional or something or is this all some kind of prank?' Just as Mr. Babbleton started to open his mouth, Harry interrupted him, "I'm sorry sir, but I have to leave now," before hurrying home.
Although before he had taken more than a few steps, Mr. Babbleton tried to free his one hand to shakes Harry's, resulting in him dropping his things. Harry turned around and helped him picking it all up, but just as he had picked up the last item and stood up, wanting to hand it over to Mr. Babbleton, he heard a small crack. Harry turned around trying to locate the origin of the sound, instead finding nothing. No Mr. Babbleton and none of his things, except what he was currently holding in his hands.
Harry gave the item a closer look and found it to be a small necklace with an hourglass in a circular contraption. After a while, he gave up trying to figure out what it was and stuffed it in his pocket. He headed home and as he walked through the door, he was stunned to see a furious looking Vernon Dursley 'greet' him.
"You ungrateful brat! What are you doing, forgetting to be here when you were supposed to! You should have made dinner, but oh no, you absolutely had to ruin Dudder's birthday, didn't you. I'll make sure you're not going to get any food - you're going straight to bed you useless waste-of-breath!"
At this point, Vernon had a dangerous purple color on his face, as he threw Harry through the door and into the closet. Slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside, he turned to leave when he was blown own his feet by a blue flash originating from Harry's room. He pulled the door open, only to find nothing. No Harry and no other way out.
A/N: A
