Authors Note: Hello and welcome to this new fanfiction I will be writing, I've never actually written one so any pointers or help would be greatly appreciated. This is an AU where Harry returns to before his attendance of Hogwarts and attempts to fix all the mistakes he felt he made his first time around. I will attempt a version of the first book and see if anyone enjoys it, hopefully one of you will haha. Without further ado I'll begin on the first chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the characters or settings based around the Harry Potter universe

It was the one place he could truly find solitude now. Harry's fingers graced the rough stone as he slowly stepped down the stairs he'd become all too familiar with. After the war, life never became what Harry had hoped for, for his life to finally start after a lifetime of one incident after the next. Footsteps echoing around the chamber he finally reached the base and with a deep breath he placed himself down on the cold floor his arms arching behind him and his fingernails drumming the floor rhythmically. He often found himself returning here, his successful career as an auror providing him with many excuses to hang around the ministry. A shadow of a smile flickered across his tensed jaw as he exhaled heavily and let his head fall back and bask in the eerie light. As guilty as it made him feel, he missed those days. He craved the closeness those months on the run had afforded him and the unquestionable loyalty the members of Dumbledore's Army placed in him and he in them. Harry had struggled to adjust back to the humdrum of a normal life, and after all those years he'd hoped for a normal life he now spent his time dreaming of anything but that. Which only deepened this guilt. He enjoyed life, he loved his wife and the family the Weasleys had given him. But still, the ache in his heart drew him back here every few months and now on the fifth anniversary since Sirius's death the power it held over him was strangling.

Scrabbling to his feet he approached the source of the light. The silken vale cascaded from the above as the voices within called to him the same as always, sometimes if he stared for long enough he could almost swear the tumbling creases looked like familiar faces. And he had so many familiar faces that he missed. Those that ached deep within like the man who he'd lost here and those that wake him in a cold sweat at night. Of Cedric cast aside as a "spare" and of Colin Creevey, the boy who used to be so full of wonder and whose too small body lay in the rubble. And so many more… so many more who died and he'd failed to prevent it. Harry let out a guttural moan as all those faces filled his mind, he stood there staring into the depths of something that whilst appearing so light felt so dark to him. Straightening his tie and attempting to flatten his flyaway hair he took a few convulsive breaths before turning away, ready to return to the world. Yet something stopped him, something was off. Then he realised what it was, the voices had stopped. The whispering had stopped and the silence encompassed him, a silence so loud it suffocated him. Confused and slightly scared he attempted to make a quick exit from the room. Panic rose in his throat as he realised the silken mass of the vale now had thick white tendrils reaching out at him. Wrapping around his ankles and slowly making their way up and around his body. He ran forwards but as if in a dream his steps made no impact on the ground and he remained static as the tendrils reached his throat. A metallic feeling blossomed in his mouth and his vision grew whiter until Harry could feel himself fall and drift off into the vale.

Harry's eyes flickered open to find himself lying in darkness, very much in a bed and very much alive and well. He closed his eyes and groaned rolling over determined to sleep for a bit longer in hopes of forgetting what even he thought was a particularly cruel dream of his mind to conjure up. The reprise of a few more minutes in warmth was abruptly ended as very large thudding and dust speckling his face shook him awake. Startled he sat up and turned to check on Ginny to see if she had heard the sounds also, only to find himself staring at nothing but a plywood wall with a small bronze grate in it through which small beams of light filtered through catching the dust in flight. Tentatively he pushed against the plywood door that felt all too familiar only for it to slam back in his face, sending more dust swirling. The thudding that had woken him continued on past his door until it fell away and Harry was left in silence. Blinking and out of a long forgotten reflex he reached out and placed his glasses on his face, adjusting the heavily taped and damaged spectacles until they sat straight. Scrambling out of his small camp bed he left the closet he hadn't slept in in decades and into the corridor of number 4, Privet Drive. Confused, Harry headed into the kitchen to an acrid smell emanating from a large tub sitting on the side. Turning towards his Aunt and still in disbelief he asked "What's this?". The sour look appeared on Aunt Petunia's face, a look he had forgotten. "Your new school uniform" she said. As if in a trance the same words he'd said all those years ago tumbled from his lips "I didn't realise it had to be so wet". His ears began to ring and his mind swirled as he stumbled towards the table before sitting down in one of the chairs. He sat there shocked and deep in thought until the hard tip of Dudley's smeltings stick hit him on his elbow "Harry? The post? Or are you deaf as well as stupid?". Standing up, Harry walked towards the front door to once again stop in his tracks. There on the doormat lay Aunt Marge's postcard, a brown envelope and the unmistakable Hogwarts seal pressed in crimson wax onto the yellow envelope. It was the letter. The first letter Harry had ever received and the most valuable as well. A letter that he never had the chance to read. Stuffing it deep into the depths of his pockets he went back into the kitchen and passed the letters across. A grin spread across his face as he realised he'd changed the course of events. If only he hadn't been so stupid that first time, sliding his hand subtly into his pocket he felt the comforting crinkle of the letter. Perhaps he'd been given that second chance he'd craved but even if it was a dream he was going to enjoy it whilst he could and he most definitely wasn't going to sit back and let history pan out.