DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, it's all J.K. Rowling's and do I LOOK like her? No. Therefore this isn't mine.

I've been inactive for a while, but I'm going to take another stab at this story. So this means a re-vamp and hopefully a better thought out plot-line/writing. I would hope so since it's been like 2+ years since I've posted last haha.

It'd be nice if you guys could leave a kind review of any kind at all. Anything at all would be great to be honest.

(Oh, and please excuse any spelling mistakes…you can point them out if you want to and I'll try to fix them later)

Chapter 1: The Start

"Up! Get up!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice rang throughout the house. "I up, I up." replied the sleepy four year old Harry Potter, who woke up to the dim, and musty, bottom of the stairs. Aunt Petunia tapped her foot, as she waited for Harry to dress, with a scowl adorning her face. As soon as the boy toppled out of the small opening, she bent down and put her pale, long face right next to his, "Come on, I need you to weed the flower beds, and get breakfast ready. Now." She then sniffed and walked away leaving a slightly awake Harry getting his wits together in the hallway. He waited until his aunts' salmon pink dressed whipped around the corner then began to stumble his way down the hallway and into the kitchen, all the while rubbing his eyes and leisurely stretching.

Upon his entrance, his eyes landed on Aunt Petunia struggling to light the gas stove and grasping at the ingredients needed for the meal. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Harry sidled into the room and fetched the appropriate utensils and dishes for eggs and bacon. His little feet shuffled across the tile as he made his way to the cabinets and back. Aunt Petunia had just finished frying the bacon when Uncle Vernon lumbered down the stairs directly above his room.

Harry, being anxious of the presence of his large uncle, developed a slight shake in his hands and loudly clinked the glasses together that he had been carefully lugging to the table. He froze, but Aunt Petunia just stared at him for a couple seconds with her nose high in the air before sniffing and getting back to cooking, her hair bobbing slightly as she shook her head at his mistake.

Uncle Vernon entered the room with a few shuddering footsteps and then collapsed onto the chair directly across from where Harry was standing. His moustache rippled as his lips curled in slight disgust at the sight of his unruly nephew, but once again, Harry was ignored and went back to setting the table.

Harry was miserable at the Dursleys'. He was starved, and Dudley (At the lovely age of four) loved to use Harry as a punching bag. The game was ten points if he managed to break his glasses, and twenty if Harry started to cry. He didn't get the twenty points often, however, since Harry was used to the constant tormenting and could slightly detect when a Dudley ambush was about to occur. It also helped that he was significantly skinnier, and faster, than his whale of a cousin,

Aunt Petunia put a stop to his contemplating with a sharp "Weed. Go." Harry took this to mean no breakfast (as per usual) and scampered out of the house as she shooed him away. He was glad he could escape Dudley's antagonizing for the morning, but his rumbling stomach suggested otherwise. His cousin enjoyed picking fights and it didn't help that his parents played along with it, blaming Harry for provoking their 'well-mannered' son.

Harry went to the shed along the side of the house and picked out a pair of well-worn gardening gloves that were way too big for his tiny hands. It was much better than digging into the dirt bare-handed, and he didn't really mind much anyway. He turned and made for the patch of petunias that were infested with the green little sprouts. He'd been battling this rough patch of weeds for weeks, yet they seemed to instantly multiply as soon as he pulled one out. There was a small rustling in one of the hedges nearer to him, but he played it off as a fleeing squirrel who had just noticed his presence.

He sighed as he got to work and settled on humming a tune he'd picked up from one of Dudley's discarded baby games. After about five minutes of weeding, Harry saw something silver in the dirt. He would've missed it if it hadn't been for the early sun reflecting off of the metallic surface. He observed it for a few moments before coming to a consensus. Anything in the Dursley's garden couldn't be that bad, they were perfectly and scarily normal after all.

He carefully extracted the hourglass shaped object from the mushy dirt and scanned it with curiosity. After minutes of pondering he still couldn't figure out what it was, and he decided to alert Aunt Petunia of the peculiar artifact. This was a difficult decision since Aunt Petunia absolutely hated anything unusual or out of the ordinary, yet the object shouldn't cause many issues. At best it was just a normal hourglass, and maybe it belonged to her and she'd just lost it while planting herself.

Harry stood up and brushed off his pants while kicking mud off his trainers. He made his way over to the back door and ascended the small step leading to porch. In the process of going through the kitchen door, he tripped on the frame and fell, breaking the mysterious object. Dust flew up into the air in a spiral, blocking his limited vision, and Aunt Petunia shrieked in surprise. That was the last thing Harry heard because all of a sudden, in a bright flash, he was transported somewhere in time with a slight jerk behind his navel.

This story was originally posted a couple years ago but I've decided to re-vamp it. I can't promise any consistent update dates (since every time I set one I always seem to miss it :P) but I should update soon.

Thanks for reading, and if you liked it please let me know in a review!

~It's not called gymNICEtics~