CHAPTER 1
He was grateful that he had finally defeated Voldemort once and for all. His scar wasn't hurting for the first time in years. All was good.
"Hey. Harry? Are you there? Wake up!"
Harry tried opening his eyes, but a soaring pain burst through his brain, once the light hit his eyes. He was confused. He did not remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was kissing Ginny and going outside to take a walk. Where did he end up now?
"I think he is slowly waking up. His heartrate is increasing. Harry, Harry, can you hear me?"
The voice seemed familiar but at the same time he couldn't remember where he had heard it before. He tried opening his eyes again and it seemed easier than before, but it still felt like someone was sticking a knife into his head, so he gave that up.
"Ok Harry, if you can hear me, please try and squeeze your hand a little."
Harry tried to focus all his energy into the muscles of his left hand and began contracting them slowly, without opening his eyes and letting the light hurt his throbbing head even more.
"Very good, very good! Now, I know it might hurt, but we are going to give you a little shot. You might feel a little pinch, but then we're going to give you a big-boy band aid to cover it up. OK cutie?"
Harry was confused. Why was this woman talking to him like he was a little child? And where the hell was he? In the next moment, he felt a slight pinch in his upper arm and a few minutes later he felt the pain in his head slowly receding.
Another few minutes later he was able to open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the picture of fairies, dinosaurs and stardust all over the walls and ceilings. He was confused. He couldn't remember getting here and he certainly didn't understand why he was apparently lying in a hospital room for children. In that moment he heard a knock on the door.
Entering the room was a big man wearing the typical gown worn by nurses. He had a fuzzy long beard and huge, brown, friendly looking eyes.
"Hagrid?", Harry exclaimed.
"Umm no, my name is Henry, but close little one!", the nurse responded.
Only now did Harry look down at himself and realized that he wasn't a post-pubescent 17-year-old, who had fought wars and faced great troubles, but apparently back to being a young boy, no older than 11. He looked around and found his glasses. They appeared to be the ones his uncle had broken in a fight shortly before his eleventh birthday, which Hermione had repaired with a spell on their first train ride to Hogwarts. Was he back to being 11 years old? Had a spell been cast on him, which had thrust him into his past? Or even worse: what if it was all a dream?