Author's Note: Thank you for reading! The first two sentences are from Deathly Hallows, so I do not own them. Everything else is my writing.
A huge "thank you" to Coyoyotie for being my Beta Reader. Thanks again!
Enjoy.
Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed his fear –
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
.
Harry blinked his eyes open. Everything was white. It took him a minute to sit up and look around. Slowly he saw the outlines of a train and then a platform materialize through the mist-like whiteness surrounding him. He knew this particular train station at once – King's Cross. Memories of all of the years he had boarded the Hogwarts Express here came to mind, and he had to push them down to keep his knees from buckling under the overwhelming grief. That station had been filled with color and joy, people everywhere laughing and smiling. Harry knew that those memories were long gone, part of a past that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Harry shuddered as he remembered the flash of green light coming at him. Now all there was left was this sterile white replica of King's Cross. This replica was cold and not filled with the emotions, the happiness that he associated with King's Cross. The black haired youth scanned the platform he found himself on, noticing a figure sitting on the bench nearest him.
"Headmaster?" Harry recognized the man almost immediately. Seeing the deceased Headmaster brought flashes of the man falling from the Astronomy Tower, glowing green from the Killing Curse. His presence confirmed Harry's fears: he had died. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die.
"Harry, my boy," the old wizard's eyes were filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry that it had to come to this."
The Gryffindor made his way over to the deceased Headmaster and took a seat next to him. He looked at the man, numb in the revelation that he had failed, that he had died.
"I fear the worst has come to pass, and Tom has bested us."
Harry clenched his eyes, wishing he would have fought harder to win, to live as he fought back tears, "I'm sorry, Professor, I tried. I really, really tried, but – "
"It is no fault of yours, Harry," Dumbledore looked at the young man before him over his half-moon spectacles, the sorrow clearly visible in the depths of his once twinkling and merry eyes. "I should have done more to prepare you. Or perhaps I should have done less. I will never know. However, I do know, that all hope is not lost."
I slight spark became visible in the wizard's eyes. Harry raised his head to meet the man's gaze slowly, confusion mixing with the anguish on the young wizard's face.
"But both of us failed. You and I died."
"No, Harry, I failed. You did not. Yet," the old man paused. "I managed to secure you - how should I say this – well, a second chance."
"I'm sorry?" Harry's eyes widened. Was he not dead yet?
"You have the choice to try to defeat the Dark Lord again. I urge you to take this chance, the fate of the world as we know it depends on your decision." Dumbledore sighed regretfully. "I wish this could be easier for you, my dear boy, but I'm afraid that fate has dealt you a most difficult hand. When I learned of the existence of a seventh Horcrux in you from Horace's memory, I decided to create a failsafe just for situations like this one. I cast some intricate magic on the Horcrux – on you – that would allow you to travel back several years if the Horcrux were destroyed. I did this to not only allow you to have a future, so that you would not die at the hands of Voldemort, but also to ensure that should something not go to plan and the worst comes to pass, that you could live on, that you could defeat the Dark Lord. I'm sure you don't want to know all of the details, but the gist of the magic is time travelling spells and enchantments."
Harry started, "So I have the choice to die or relive my attempt of killing the Dark Lord?" He was angry. This was unfair. No one should expect one person – one child – to save the entire world. The weight that Harry had been carrying since he learned of the existence of the magical world had become unbearable. Harry didn't know how much more he could carry.
"Harry, you must choose for yourself; the magic I placed on the Horcrux will only take affect if you truly choose to accept your second chance. If you choose to stay here, you will simply pass onto your next grand adventure, elsewhere."
Harry was fighting back tears again. Why was his fate so unjust? He had been chosen from birth to defeat the Dark Lord. He had lost his parents, Sirius, Fred… Countless lives thrown away throughout the course of the war.
He drew a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He hated that the world depended on him. Why did it always have to be Harry bloody Potter that saved the day? Harry didn't know what to do. He didn't want to die… but he didn't want to face that monster Voldemort again! Visions of his friends mourning his death flashed through his mind and he felt guilt course through his veins. He knew that he had to try, if not for himself, then for them. He owed it to Ron and Hermione and all of those who had not lost their lives during the final battle, those that would have to live in a world where Voldemort had won the war. Harry could not let that happen. The torment that his friends would withstand under the Dark Lord's reign was unimaginable.
"I accept my second chance." Harry's eyes were hard and determined, but also filled with fear, as he raised his gaze to meet the Headmasters. The Headmaster could never get over the weight of those eyes and the experiences lurking in those green depths.
"Very good, my boy," an understanding, yet sad, smile on his face, Dumbledore stood, gesturing for Harry to follow him. "I have never attempted such intricate spellwork before, but I am certain it will work. You will be transported back in time to approximately the year before you receive your Hogwarts letter, give or take a few months. I am sure that you will find a way to defeat Tom. I believe in you, my boy."
Harry felt a jolt at the fact that he would be going back in time much further than he had originally anticipated. He would go back years. Harry had been expecting one year at most, just a handful of months. Perhaps that was best. He would be able to save more people this time around. Ginny would never have to suffer at the hands of that cursed Diary, Cedric would not die in the graveyard, Sirius might survive… Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to do this. For Ron and Hermione. For the future of the world, for his future.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry embraced the thin old man tightly. The wizard returned the embrace. Harry didn't realize until that moment how much he had missed the old man at Hogwarts. The school was not the same without him.
"You will do great things, Harry, when you decide to live. I have meddled in your life long enough. Please try to minimize that for me this time around, and enjoy yourself," the wizard said regretfully.
"Thank you, Headmaster. For everything."
"Not at all, my boy. Not at all. I will see you some day, hopefully later rather than sooner." With a soft smile and his trademark twinkle in his eye, he turned around and was gone.
Before he had a chance to blink, Harry felt a tug in his navel, like a portkey, and he was falling. The white platform disappeared, leaving only blackness swirling around him. Harry knew instantly that this was much worse than a portkey. He shut his eyes tightly, wishing the spinning would end, but it seemed to go on forever. He was certain that he got sick several times, but kept his eyes shut tightly, wishing it would all just end. The blackness enveloped him and he fell further and further down…
.
Harry Potter woke slowly. Light filtered into the room through sky blue curtains, falling on his face. He knew this room from somewhere.
With a start, he sat straight up. He reached for his wand, but did not find it on his person. His eyes darted across the room. There were toys, a desk with a computer, even a television, alongside the dresser and closet. Everything was dark shades of brown or sky blue. Harry recognized the bulk of the furniture. He was in his bedroom on Privet Drive. And yet this wasn't his bedroom at all. Gone was the appearance of a prison cell. There was no flap on his door to pass food through, the bars on his window were non-existent, and he was sure that if he tried to open the door, he would find the many locks that held him in previously also gone. Harry's room was actually that – his room. A bedroom. His very own bedroom.
That was when he knew something must be wrong. Dumbledore had said he would be sent back to age ten. Harry should have woken up in his cupboard under the stairs with the spiders and cobwebs and his tiny collection of toy soldiers, the only light filtering in through the slits in the cupboard door. Why was Harry in his very own, nicely decorated, bedroom?
Before Harry could come to a conclusion, a familiar voice called up the stairs.
"Harry, dear, please be ready to go into London in an hour!"
His aunt. Petunia. Petunia Dursley had used his name and was taking him out of the house. Harry rushed out of his room and into the bathroom down the hall. He came to a halt outside of his cousin Dudley's room. Glancing down the hall to make sure he was still alone, he cracked open the door.
Dudley's room was nothing like he remembered. There were no piles upon piles of unnecessary and expensive presents. Gone were the high-tech gadgets his cousin had received so that the Dursley's baby boy could stay "up to date on the times" and wouldn't fall behind from his friends.
Instead, there was a baby crib in the center of the room. The walls were lined with stuffed animals on shelves, a dresser and a changing table. Harry's eyes came to a halt when he saw the shrine on the far wall, in the center. There was a picture of a baby Harry was certain was his cousin. Under the picture was a plaque engraved with words that sent a shiver down the young wizard's spine.
In loving memory of our darling, Dudley Dursley.
June 23, 1980 – April 13, 1982
Harry stumble backwards out of the room and sprinted for the bathroom. He shut the door forcefully and pushed his back against it. Sinking slowly to the ground, Harry tried to control his breathing. He felt nauseous. Dumbledore's spell had gone wrong, horribly wrong.
On shaking legs, Harry managed to get to the mirror and stare at himself. He looked ten years old again. His messy hair, his green eyes, everything looked like it had. He lifted his bangs to see the curse scar on his forehead. Shockingly, it had disappeared. Dumbledore's plan had failed. He had been sent back into a past that Harry did not know. If his aunt and uncle were nice and their only son had died before Harry's parents had even died, how much more was different? Anger bubbled up in Harry's mind. That meddling old wizard had messed up the past, and in doing so had destroyed the future. Anguish replaced the anger as Harry realized that there was a very real chance that he would never get back to the position he had been in, the future he had had, before he walked into that damned clearing in the Forbidden Forest and nearly died at Voldemort's hands. He may never see his friends again.
His only comfort was the knowledge that his magic was still with him. He could feel it pulsing around him, through his veins, keeping his body functioning.
One thing was clear in Harry's mind – he had to figure out exactly what kind of past he was dealing with. Since he was no longer a prisoner in this house, he could look around and try to pick up clues. The best way to do that would be to pretend like he knew what he was doing, to go to London with his Aunt Petunia and pretend that he had done it countless times before. He had to live every day and hope that someone would say something to him that would give him a better idea of what kinds of situations he was dealing with.
This determination pushed him to shower and get dressed for his trip with Petunia. He made sure to close the door to his cousin's room quietly on his way back down the hallway to his room. It wouldn't do to leave behind clues that he had been looking around. He should already know about Dudley's death, after all. Harry would have to be very careful. Without his scar, he was no longer sure that he was the Boy Who Lived in this version of the past. If he was just an ordinary boy, who was the Chosen One?
.
The commute to London was very bearable. Harry and his aunt sat in comfortable silence most of the way. Eventually, his aunt parked the car in front of a building that looked like it was going to collapse at any moment. The building was made of red brick, and the name Purge and Dowse, Ltd. was still faintly visible in white paint on the brick.
His aunt got out of the car, Harry quickly mimicking her, following her to the front of the building. In the display window of the old building, sat a dummy. His aunt look at him expectantly. Harry had no idea what to do. The way his aunt glanced from him to the dummy and back, his aunt obviously wanted him to speak with the dummy.
"Um, hello, I'm Harry Potter and this is my Aunt Petun-"
The dummy interrupted him, "Hello madam and sir! Welcome to St. Mungo's. I hope you find your visit enjoyable."
Again Harry hid his shock. What had his aunt brought him to St. Mungo's for? He almost feared that he had given himself away and acted oddly, and that Petunia was going to have him admitted.
"I will meet you back here in two hours. I have some errands to run while you visit your parents."
Harry nodded stiffly. His parents?
"Step right through this window, Mr. Potter, sir." Harry nodded at the dummy before turning back to his aunt.
"I'll see you here in two hours, Aunt Petunia," he forced a smile and stepped through the display window, fighting his instinct that he was about to crash headfirst into the glass. His surroundings changed as soon as his he stepped through. Instead of finding himself in an old department store, he was in a huge waiting area. The whole place was a sterile white, reminding him of the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Harry glanced around quickly, glad to see that there was only a handful of people in the room. Those who were there ignored him. A small frown found its way onto Harry's lips. Whenever Harry used to go into the Wizarding World, people would turn and stare and begin gossiping about the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry felt relief rush over him. Perhaps this second chance would allow him to live more freely, like Dumbledore had wanted. He might be able to live without the meddling of the Headmaster and the involvement of the magical community because no one cared. He was no one special. For the first time in his life, he felt normal.
His relief was quickly washed away by a young receptionist witch who walked up to him with a friendly smile on her face and spoke words that cut through his heart like a knife.
"Hello, Mr. Potter. If you would follow my assistant, Ms. Blume, she will walk with you to your parents' ward."
His parents. Harry fought tears. His parents were patients at St. Mungo's. They had survived the encounter with the Dark Lord! Or had the encounter even happened? Harry was on the brink of a breakdown when the young witch he was following came to a halt in front of a magical elevator. The black-haired youth pushed all of his thoughts to the back of his mind, exercising what little Occlumency he had retained from his sessions with Snape, trying to keep himself under control.
His heart dropped when the elevator stopped with a ding, announcing the ward. Janus Thickey Ward. Harry wanted to turn around and forget about all of this. This was the ward that Neville's parents were – had been? – in, the ward that Lockhart had been placed in. It was the ward for those that had permanent aftereffects of spells. His parents were permanently disabled.
Harry wished he could disappear. For a split second he had been allowed to hope that his parents would be alive and everything he had envisioned them to be. All of that had been stripped from him again.
The young receptionist's assistant must have seen his troubled expression and smiled with sympathy, placing a hand on his shoulders and squeezing.
"Your parents are waiting for you, dear," she nodded at the privacy curtains at the very back of the room.
"Thank you," his reply was a croaked whisper. Harry forced his feet to move toward those curtains. His body felt like it was filled with lead. He was terrified what he would find behind those pieces of cloth. Harry didn't realize he was right in front of the curtains until one of his hands curled around the fabric. He clenched it between his fingers and took a deep breath. He had to do this. He had to do this to discover all that was different in his past. He parted the material and stepped inside.
James and Lily Potter sat on the same side of their hospital bed. James staring off into the distance, drooling slightly; Lily was swaying side to side, humming softly, and holding her husband's hand. Lily raised her head when Harry entered, but seemed to stare right through him. Her mouth seemed to turn up the slightest bit and her humming got just a tiny bit louder. James seemed completely oblivious to his son's presence.
Harry crumpled. He couldn't take this. His parents were physically here, within his reach, but he would never have access to their minds, their personalities, their memories. He fell to the floor and cried. Tears streamed from his eyes as he clutched his hands to his chest, wanting to tear his breaking heart out with them to stop the pain. Grief overwhelmed him. He wished that they had been killed instead of this.
And he knew who did this. And he had a clearer understanding of just what kind of past he had been forced into. And he had a guess as to who the Boy-Who-Lived was in this past. It took Harry several minutes to pull himself together, and several more to realize that his parents had moved to the other side of their bed and were no facing away from him. He must have upset them, because James had his arm around his wife, and Lily had stopped her humming.
Harry confirmed his guess about his parent's condition when he grabbed the medical chart that hung at the end of his parent's hospital bed. They had been the victims of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. They had been tortured into insanity and beyond.
If his parents had been tortured and Harry was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived, that only left one boy for that role. Neville Longbottom. Harry winced, knowing that the timid Gryffindor would have to go through everything that Harry had gone through. Neville's parents were dead now, Harry's were alive (in a sense). Harry remembered the prophecy. Dumbledore had placed both the Potters and the Longbottoms into the protection of the Order of the Phoenix once he learned of the prophecy from Severus Snape. Voldemort must have decided that the Longbottom child was the Chosen One.
Harry's head was spinning. He looked at his parents. His mother had resumed her swaying and James was holding her hand in both of his. He sighed. Remembering how Neville would talk about reading to his parents gave Harry the strength to try. He had an hour and a half left to spend here, so he might as well do something worthwhile.
Harry grabbed the most worn down book on the little bookshelf next to their bed. It was a collection of Muggle children's fairytales. He sat down in a chair in front of his parents and started reading. It didn't take long for his parents to react. His father laid down on the bed, gently pulling Lily with him. James placed an arm around Lily's waist and shut his eyes. Lily stared through Harry like she had when he had walked into the privacy curtain.
Harry smiled at her, filled with melancholy, and kept reading.
He lost himself in the stories. Knights and princesses and evil dragons. He would deal with those things, they were simple. They made sense.
Before he knew it, it was time for him to go. He hesitated over his parents, who had long been asleep, as he placed the book back on the shelf. Harry bent down and kissed both of them on the forehead and squeezed his mother's hand before turning and striding away. He refused to look back, tears stinging his bright green eyes.
On the way out of St. Mungo's Harry noticed the date on a copy of the Daily Prophet. July 20th, 1990. He only had a few months of summer left, and just over a week before he would be receiving his Hogwarts' Letter.
Aunt Petunia met him outside of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. exactly on time. Harry gave his aunt a small smile, and she nodded back with one of her own. Harry wondered why she didn't visit her sister when he did. Perhaps there was so much bad blood between the two that that rift could never be repaired. On the other hand, Harry didn't know if this was a regular occurrence, or if his aunt visited her sister and brother-in-law on other occasions. Perhaps today had been anomalous. Either way, he would only figure out the truth behind Petunia's reason for being absent today with time and careful manipulation and spying.
Harry hid a smirk and stifled a chuckle. He was having very Slytherin thoughts.
.
The rest of Harry's summer passed rather quickly. Harry learned that he was a part of all of the mundane family affairs the Dursleys partook in. He was even allowed to have dinner with the family when important guests from his Uncle Vernon's job came over. It was really rather bizarre. The black-haired youth felt more and more like a less spoiled version of Dudley as the weeks went on. He even had a full wardrobe that fit him.
On his birthday, he had received his letter. Vernon knew nothing of magic, Petunia having told him that Hogwarts was a boarding school for the gifted. As different as Petunia treated Harry, she was still not completely over her aversion to magic. She had briefly congratulated him when she saw the letter and immediately changed the subject. Not that this bothered Harry. He preferred that she did not get involved in the magical side of his life.
Shockingly, his aunt and uncle had made him a cake and decorated the living room with balloons and streamers. They had even gotten him presents – a gift card to a bookstore and a DVD player for his bedroom, which had a TV. Harry had been in disbelief of all of it.
The very next day, a Wednesday, Harry went to Diagon Alley. Petunia again said that she had errands to run, and left Harry at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in London. Harry didn't mind, already knowing everything he needed on his school supply list and where to find all of it. The most important thing on the list was his wand. It had not travel through time with him, so it must still be at Ollivander's.
The first thing he needed to do was go by Gringotts. His aunt had given him the key to his family's vault. It was an uneventful affair. His vault looked just like it had the first time he had opened it all those years ago, the first time he had gone shopping in Diagon Alley with Hagrid. He filled a little bag he carried with him with more coins than it should have been able to carry before allowing the goblin to lock back the vault.
He decided to get his wand next. Harry enjoyed walking through the crowded shops without being stared and pointed at. It took him longer than usual to get to Ollivander's from the bank because he was able to take his time, not rushed by the feeling of eyes watching him, judging and admiring.
The wand shop looked just like he remembered the first time he visited, the first time he had been eleven years old. There was no one else in the store. Ollivander appeared from one of the many shelves of wands and looked at Harry with a calculating look on his face. Without saying a word he disappeared for a brief moment and returned with a wand.
"Ash wood, Dragon heartstring core, eleven inches."
Harry took the wand and flicked it at the box the wand had been in. Nothing happened. He frowned.
Ollivander took the wand back and brought another one to the counter.
"Birch wood, Kelpie mane and Veela hair dual core, nine and a half inches."
Again, the wand did not respond to Harry. Worry sparked in the young boy. What if Dumbledore's spell had destroyed his access to magic? He could feel his magic, but what if the time travelling had rendered him a Squib with no way to use his powers?
Harry noticed a glint in the wandmaker's eyes before he disappeared and returned with a third wand.
"Blood Wood, Basilisk Skin core, ten and an eighth of an inch."
Harry stared at the wand. He could feel it from here, magic pulsing and ensnaring around the wand. Ollivander noticed and set the wand on the counter instead of handing it to the youth. Harry glanced at Ollivander who nodded in the direction of the wand.
Harry returned his gaze to the wand and decided to pick it up. Before he could even move his hand to grab it, it shot into his palm.
"Amazing," the old wandmaker whispered. "That is a very interesting wand, Mr. Potter. Blood wood wands do not normally choose inexperienced wizards. I sense a great deal of controlled power in your magic."
Harry almost thought that Ollivander knew that he wasn't actually eleven, just by the peculiar way that he was looking at him. He wanted to hide behind his bangs when the door to the shop opened, interrupting the moment.
"Ah, Mr. Longbottom!" Ollivander said, switching his gaze to his new customer. He returned his gaze to Harry just long enough to tell him how much his new wand cost. Harry dropped the money on the counter and turned to walk out, not meeting the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes. He could wait to see his scar on someone else's forehead, to see the visible burden the young boy would carry that Harry had carried for so many years.
Harry left the shop and took a deep breath. He had a feeling that his old wand would choose Neville this time. He pulled out his new wand from his pocket. He inspected it in the sunlight. He did not know much about wandlore, but he could sense the power his wand held. The Blood Wood shimmered a dark ruby color fitting to its name. The wand was simple, the only engraving on it a line that wrapped around and around it, reminding Harry of a snake. The Basilisk Skin core made Harry wonder what properties that magical substance possessed. He knew that Basilisk parts were valuable in potions, but had never heard of a wand containing them.
A familiar hoot drew his attention. Harry turned his head, a smile blooming on his face. He could buy his Snowy Owl, Hedwig! The smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when he saw Hagrid already carrying her back towards Ollivander's where Neville was experiencing what Harry had the first time he had entered Ollivander's. Jealously shot through Harry's veins. It seemed that Neville would get everything Harry had gotten as the Boy-Who-Lived, good or bad – fame, wand, and even his owl Hedwig.
With a sigh, Harry decided to find another familiar. Walking into the store he was unsure what he wanted, although he definitely did not want a toad. His eyes swept the cramped store and stopped on a cat. It was a kitten, silver and black, asleep in its cage. Harry made his way over to it and read the tag on the cage. He didn't have to think twice about buying this magnificent creature, and money truly wasn't an obstacle. He had always wished the Dursleys would get a pet.
Harry was smiling as he made his way up to the store's owner.
"I'd like to buy your male black smoke Savannah kitten."
"That'll be 15 galleons," the man answered gruffly, not even looking up from the issue of the Daily Prophet he was reading. Harry dropped the coins on the counter, grabbed his new familiar, and left the store, not caring about the shop owner's callous attitude, smirking at the headline that had been on the newspaper's front page. The Boy-Who-Lived Returns. He might be able to find humor in the horrible journalism written about the Chosen One this time. Harry continued on his way down Diagon Alley.
"What shall I name you?" Harry sat down on a bench with his familiar. The kitten opened one eye, then the other. Harry gasped with amazement. His cat had one green eye and one brown eye. "How about Remmy?"
Harry laughed at the appalled expression the cat gave him.
"I guess that's a no. How about… Houdini?" This time the Savannah kitten merely flicked his tale at him.
"Merlin?" The kitten began to purr and butt its head against Harry's fingers through the cage.
The boy laughed. "Alright! Merlin it is!"
Harry picked up Merlin's cage and continued down the busy shopping alley. The next store he came to was Madam Malkin's. He almost snorted when he entered the store and found Draco Malfoy chatting at Neville Longbottom with his nose in the air. Harry had to control a chuckle at the twisted sense of déjà vu this shopping trip was evoking in him. Neville scurried out of the store, allowing Harry to take his place.
"My name is Draco Malfoy. What is yours?" Harry fought hard to suppress a smirk. This was going to be fun.
"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand to the blonde.
"I wish Madam Malkin would hurry up. I've already been here fifteen minutes, waiting to be measured. Of course she would tend to the Boy-Who-Lived before she tended to me, even though I'm a Malfoy, and I was here first," the young boy whined.
Harry frowned, "Why would she do that?"
"Because that Longbottom is the Savior of the Wizarding World, where have you been living, Potter?"
"Of course I knew that, I was just wondering why she would show preference to somebody who has done nothing to keep the title of Savior since he was a baby. And call me Harry."
Draco's face lit up with childish glee, "I'm glad that we see eye to eye on that topic, Harry. Although I'm sure Longbottom would make a great ally in the future. I shall have to try and befriend him at school. He didn't seem very talkative when I spoke with him just a few minutes ago."
Harry nodded in agreement. Yes, he would try to befriend the Chosen One. Again he had to stifle a smirk. Perhaps the time travelling spell messing up was the best thing that could have happened to Harry Potter.
The two boys chatted until the blonde received his robes and went on his way. He had promised to find him on the Hogwarts Express in a few short weeks. Harry was surprised at how easy the future Slytherin had been to talk to, once he got past the Pureblood pride. The rest of Harry's shopping trip passed uneventfully. He managed to carry all of his new purchases back to the Leaky Cauldron only because he had purchased an enchanted bag, in which he placed everything he bought except for his new familiar, Merlin, whom he carried.
Petunia met him outside of the pub, again precisely on time. She reacted much better to Merlin than she had Hedwig. She asked his name and told Harry that as long as he clean up after him, Merlin was welcome in her home. Harry needed to stop being surprised at her actions, since she seemed to act very little like the aunt that he knew, in regards to him at least. Harry had come to learn that she still did not like magic, but tolerated the fact that he was a wizard. And she was still a clean-freak.
The car ride back to Little Whinging was passed in comfortable silence, much like the commute to London had earlier that day. It was now well into the afternoon, the sun hanging low in the sky. When they arrived home, Uncle Vernon was already home from work. He gave Merlin a scowl but didn't say anything derogatory to him or Harry. Harry greeted his uncle as nicely as he could, ignoring the scowl; he was still getting used to being treated like a human being by his aunt and uncle.
He carried all of his purchases of the day into his room and began to unpack. He placed the four-story cat tree in one of the empty corners of his room. There were feathers hanging off of the platforms that were charmed to play with any cat that walked up to the tree. Harry placed the self-cleaning litter box in the bathroom down the hall, which his aunt had already approved. Merlin's self-replenishing food and water dishes were placed next to Harry's desk. A pet blanket was spread across the bottom half of Harry's bed for his familiar to sleep on. Harry let Merlin out of his carrier.
The feline stalked around the room, inspecting everything before turning and giving Harry an impressed meow.
"You're welcome," the boy grinned.
"Harry, dinner is ready!" Petunia called up the stairs.
"Alright, Aunt Petunia!"
.
The rest of Harry's summer passed quickly. The first of September came, and Harry woke up at five o'clock in the morning. He packed up all of his things into the trunks he had purchased during his shopping trip to Diagon Alley and put Merlin in his carrier. By eight thirty Petunia and Harry had loaded up the car and left the house on Privet Drive. Harry hadn't wanted to rush to the Hogwarts Express like he seemed to have done every past year that he could remember.
By ten o'clock, Harry had a seat on the train, which was slowly starting to fill with students. He had chosen a compartment far away from the one he had chosen his first time on the train as the Chosen One. Harry had a feeling that Neville would be there, as well as Ron and Hermione. Not fifteen minutes after Harry had taken his seat Draco Malfoy joined him in the compartment.
The two chatted excitedly about Hogwarts, and Harry knew that he could definitely get used to the blonde's company. He learned that the other boy's holier-than-thou attitude was mostly a façade that he put on in public. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson joined the two boys shortly before the train departed at eleven o'clock. All four of them talked about the different houses and the Sorting. Draco and Pansy were certain they would be placed in Slytherin. Blaise knew he would be either a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw. Harry didn't know what to think about himself. He did know that he would not fight the hat's initial decision this time around. If that meant being a Slytherin, then so be it.
The rest of the train ride was spent discussing the school year ahead of the four first years. Harry masked his expression when Zabini mentioned the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirrell. He had not even thought about what he should do about the Philosopher's Stone and Voldemort. He couldn't imagine Neville doing all of the things that he had to do as the Boy-Who-Lived to save the stone his first year at Hogwarts. There had to be something he could do to work from the shadows to ensure the previous outcome. He would think on it later.
Draco had noticed Harry's eyes gaze off into the distance. He was obviously deep in thought. Whatever the black-haired youth was thinking about was much darker than the light-hearted topics that Draco and his two friends were discussing. The blonde made a mental note to question Harry about it later in private.
When the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade, Harry exited the train with Draco. Blaise and Pansy had rushed off to catch up with some of their other friends.
Draco look Harry over. "I think you'll be a Hufflepuff."
Harry pushed the blonde playfully and stuck his tongue out. "Only if you're a Gryffindor."
Draco scoffed, but didn't have time to retort. Hagrid, the groundskeeper and a half-giant, bellowed over the noise of the group of students.
"First years, follow me!"
Harry eagerly followed the hairy man, genuinely excited to see the castle from on the lake again. He had been nervous the first time around, but this time he could relax and enjoy the view. Draco walked beside Harry as they walked at the back of the group of first years. Harry glanced over at him and couldn't help but admire the way the blonde held himself. Even excited, he was confident and enigmatic, two things Harry had always wished he could be. Years of living the Dursley's abuse had ruined those two character traits along with many others for him.
Harry cast a repelling charm on one of the boats so that only he and Draco were able to occupy it. Draco looked at the brunette, impressed. Harry smirked at the blonde, hiding a flattered blush.
The boats began to move as one when all of the first years were seated securely in them. The castle came into view and grew out of the countryside around the lake. Harry pulled Draco's sleeve and pointed to the Forbidden Forest where a herd of centaurs galloped by. Glancing into the water below the boats, Harry could have sworn he saw mermaids.
Too soon the boats reached the shore, and the first years scrambled out of them and walked the winding road up to the castle. Hogwarts was as magnificent as ever, all of her windows lit up and towering over the landscape. The first years finally filed into the entrance hall, where Professor McGonagall received them with a tart smile. Harry almost snorted when her speak to them was exactly the same as the first time around.
It took all of his self-control to not laugh when he noticed that his blonde friend had gone up to Neville and asked for his friendship. Déjà vu indeed, he thought with a smirk, when Neville rejected his hand.
Draco scowled and made his way back over to Harry.
"It's alright, Draco, don't worry about that prat. Who cares about the Boy-Who-Lived anyways," How he managed to speak those words seriously, no one would ever know. One thing was certain – Harry was going to laugh himself to sleep after the feast.
"Yeah, you're right. I guess his title isn't worth anything until he proves himself worthy of it."
Soon enough, McGonagall returned and led the group of first years into the Great Hall. Harry felt his nerves begin to build. Draco must have noticed because he bumped into him playfully. Harry shot him a mock glare and gathered himself again. At least this time no one would care which House he got sorted into. He could only imagine the Hell that would have been set loose if the Savior of the Wizarding World was sorted into Slytherin. He snickered when he thought of Neville being sorted into Hufflepuff, where most of Harry's year mates had said he should be on several occasions. Draco shot him a questioning glance, and the brunnete mouthed 'Later'. Draco nodded.
As expected, the entire Hall was hushed when Neville was called up to be Sorted. And of course he ended up in Gryffindor. Draco was sorted into Slytherin, no surprise there.
"Harry Potter."
He half expected the whole Hall to fall silent. Relief washed over him when everyone continued to murmur quietly. Harry made his way up to the old dusty Sorting Hat and sat down on the stool. McGonagall lowered the hat onto his head.
Interesting, very interesting. Harry Potter. You will do great things, very great things. Just make sure you don't stray too far towards the Darkness. It's really only one choice for you. Only one House to help you on your way to Greatness… "Slytherin!"
Harry couldn't really say he was surprised. He made his way to the Slytherin table and took a seat next to Draco.
"I'm glad you chose the right House, Harry," the blonde smirked. Harry smirked back. The blonde had no idea. It actually had not been a choice this time; he let the Hat sort him into whichever House he truly belonged in.
The rest of the Sorting passed quickly, and soon enough Dumbledore gave his start of the year speech, and food appeared on all of the tables. Draco and Harry chatted excitedly with Pansy and Blaise, who had also been sorted into Slytherin. It was going to be an interesting year.
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