"Boy! Wake up!"
Harry rolled over, falling off the small cot he was sleeping on. "Sure..." he muttered drowsily.
He yelped, fully awake now, at the sound of his voice. It sounded so...young. Not like a seventeen year old's voice at all.
Plus, he had no idea where he was. Last thing he remembered was crashing onto his bed in the Leaky Cauldron. And this was not the inn: it was much smaller, danker, mustier, and darker. Spiders were crawling everywhere.
He raised his hands to his hair automatically. His hands were tiny-like a three year old's. Harry looked frantically around the floor before finding a small, cracked mirror. It looked exactly like the one had been forced to repair after Dudley sat on it.
With another yelp and a couple of choice words, he dropped the mirror. It crashed to the ground but he paid no attention.
He was a child again.
Harry really had no idea of how old he really was. He had always looked very small for his age. He estimated he was six, and confirmed it with a glance at Aunt Petunia's flowery calendar. (what is it with Evans and flowers, I ask you?)
OK. He was five. That was really, really weird. He was probably having a hallucination, or something. It was probably some stage of grief. He'd have to ask Hermione...oh yeah, he couldn't. Because he was stuck in some freakish dream-thing.
The last thing he remembered was going to sleep after a fight with the Dursley's. There was nothing unusual about that, though. Right before he went to sleep he had let Hedwig out. And thought, as he returned to the bed, 'What I would give to have another chance..'
Dear Merlin. His wish...it had come true.
Diagon Alley
The goblin frowned at the boy in front of him. (it) He was so young but his aura was so powerful. It was almost like Dumbledore's...and Dumbledore was over 150 years old! This boy couldn't be more than five...
"Hello. I'm Harry Potter, and I need a key to my vault...You see, I can't obtain the other."
The goblin grunted. Maybe that explained it. he retrieved a gold, oval platter from under the desk. "Put your hand on it. If you are Harry Potter, than a key will be made. If you are not...well, it won't be pleasant..." the goblin rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Harry placed his hands on the platter. An odd sensation fluttered through him. It felt almost like Legilimency but different...
The goblin frowned sullenly. "Apparently you are Harry Potter...Griphook!"
Another goblin appeared. This one seemed rather young in comparison to the other. "Yes?"
"Bring Mr. Potter to his vault...here's the key." he handed Griphook a small, shiny key. On it was engraved some letters and numbers. When Harry got a closer look at it, he realized it read:
H. J. Potter
Vault two-ninety-one
When Harry reached the vault, he scooped up four bags of gold. Even now, the amount of gold still struck him dumb.
The next place he went was Ollivander's. It was less dusty this time around, but not by a lot. "I'd like to buy a wand, sir."
Ollivander nodded before staring at him intently. "Rather young...but powerful, very powerful..."
"Er..."
"Yes, yes...maybe this..."
Ollivander handed Harry a wand. With relief, he noted it was his old wand, minus the scratch marks and fingerprints. He waved it,
"Yes...you have no idea how long that wand has been here...near forty years...it is curious, however, that the wand should choose you...when it's brother had given you that scar..."
Even though Harry had heard these words before, it was slightly creepy. He paid the money grateful that Ollivander did not deem the underage wizarding laws to seriously.
Harry then bought several pairs of robes, and some books: Animagi, or How to Become One, Wandless Magic, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hogwarts, a History.
As he was lugging his purchases back to the Leaky Cauldron, he collided headfirst with someone. "Oh, I'm sorry..." said Harry, picking up his items. He then realized who he had bumped into.
Ginny Weasley.
She was blushing furiously. He picked up the book she had dropped and handed it to her.
"Ginny! Ginny!"
Harry would recognize that voice anywhere. He smiled at Ginny. "Well...I guess I'll be going. by the way, I'm Harry."
"Ginny." she told him, before running to meet her mother, still blushing.
Flashback
"No." said Ginny idly. "I told him you had a Hungarian Horntail. Much more macho."
End Flashback.
A Hungarian Horntail...not such a bad idea, after all. Grinning wildly, Harry rushed out of Diagon Alley. He had to get back before the Dursley's noticed.
R&R my friends! (Yes, I made some changes! Harry is nineteen, not seventeen. He has not yet defeated Voldermort, though, but he has been in a lot of battles.