Warnings: NO HBP abuse, non-consensual situations, slash if any of this offends you I'm sorry. Now all you have to do is hit the back button and I will bother you no more (Slash won't be for a while cause I have a plot that I must develop first have no fear it will be here . . . eventually)
This is for everyone that didn't give up on me... I'm going to finish this story
Disclaimer: take one look at my house and you will see that I am not the one who came up with the Harry Potter series
Prologue
Harry raced through the corridors, a stitch slowly forming in his side. He couldn't help but curse his roommates for leaving to breakfast without waking him. In all fairness, Ron had probably tried to wake him up, but during the first couple weeks back at Hogwarts he always slept like the dead. Nothing short of a bucket of ice water poured on him could wake him up.
This morning it had been particularly difficult for him to wake. It wasn't that he was up into the late hours of the night. In fact it was quite the opposite as he had been in bed before all of his dorm mates. One would think that ten hours of sleep would leave a boy feeling quite refreshed in the morning but that was not the case.
So here Harry was racing off to the Potions classroom that never had seemed as far away as it was today. A glance at his watch told him he had only one minute left to get to the dungeons or he would suffer the wrath of Snape, a fate that he would greatly like to avoid.
He hurdled down the halls in record time dodging any students that were lazily walking through the halls. His bag nearly took the head off a Hufflepuff girl that was kneeling down to tie her shoe. He didn't even stop to apologize.
Finally after several sharp turns the door to the Potion's class came into view. With one last burst of speed he closed the final distance in record time. He slid through the door just a moment before Snape. One look at the man's face told Harry that it would be wise to sit down and shut up. Thus, without delay, Harry dropped his bag in the first empty seat and plopped down trying to steady his breathing.
Blaise Zabini sat next to him, idly flipping through his potion's book, looking for the potion they would be brewing today. It looked fairly complicated, but what else could be expected from a 6th year potions class.
Blaise was chatting with Draco Malfoy about some new broom that was due to come out around Christmas time. Harry listened semi-interested in the broom that was said to be better than his beloved Firebolt. While the thought of more power and control in his flying was quite appealing, he just couldn't part with his broom. Sirius had given it to him and that made it more valuable than any broom on the market.
Draco, seeing Harry listening to their conversation, sneered at him.
"Didn't your mother teach you it isn't polite to listen to others conversations, Potter?" The blonde paused slightly, a thoughtful expression gracing his face. "Oh that's right! You haven't got a mother." Harry spared the Slytherin a glare, then reached for his book, which was hidden somewhere near the bottom of his bag.
His sleeve rose slightly and two light bruises could be seen. One was on the inside of his wrist and the other slightly higher. He yanked his sleeve down quickly, looking up to see if anyone had seen. Malfoy was back to talking to Zabini and the rest of the class was busy doing there own tasks. He continued his search for his book.
"Mr. Potter, it would be greatly appreciated if you would stop fidgeting about in your bag and possibly pay attention. I don't feel like having to scrape what is left of you off the ground when you ruin this potion." Harry immediately stopped sifting through his bag and settled for glaring at the board while Snape began his lecture for the day. He of course lost interest within the first minute and chose to continue to stare blankly at the board, he could always get the notes from Hermione before they brewed the potion tomorrow.
"The Joven Potion originated from the Latin American isles. While muggles were off, gallivanting across the globe, in hopes of finding a fountain of eternal youth, a wizard by the name of Armando Gastillo, experimented with Paraguayensis powder. He was able to create a sort of de-aging salve that when applied to the skin in liberal amounts, will de-age a person. While the potion does de-age the person both physically and mentally it does not affect their overall age, thus even taking the potion will not prolong a person's life. The effects of the potion wear off in accordance to the amount of bat eyes used. The counter agent takes much longer to brew as it needs an entire lunar cycle to distill."
The class was filled with the sounds of scratching quills. Snape seeing that he had everyone's attention continued.
"It will take half an hour to brew and we will spend the last fifteen minutes testing each of your attempts. Be sure to only add three bat eyes for we are only trying to concoct a mild form of the potion." Harry looked around blankly at the sound of rustling chairs. He had been certain that it would only be lecture today and now he cursed his wandering mind. Having not heard what the potion they were making was supposed to do he looked at his partner, Zabini, for some help.
"Potter, make yourself useful and go get the ingredients," Zabini sneered at him. Willing to do anything to get away from the sarcastic Slytherin, Harry left to the front table where others were collecting each of the needed ingredients.
"I was wonderin if you were ever gonna wake up," Ron said grabbing some cricket legs some still twitching. "You wouldn't budge this morning!"
"I've been tiredly lately," Harry responded grabbing what Ron did.
"Havin' dreams again?" Leave it to his best friend to find a way to tie Voldemort into every problem the raven haired boy faced. Sometimes Ron was too paranoid for his own good.
"Nah, just been trying to catch up on the sleep I didn't get this summer. You know how loud Dudley and Vernon snore. It's enough to wake the whole neighborhood. I hardly ever got more than a few hours sleep!"
Deciding that it was time to get the subject of conversation off of him, Harry turned to the passion of most wizarding boys, Quidditch. Quidditch season would be starting within the week and Harry could hardly wait to get up in the air after having been unable to compete for two years now.
"When can the team start practice again?"
"Is Dumbledore going to let you back on the team?" the red head asked. Harry hadn't even thought about that. He had naturally assumed that with Umbridge gone he would no longer be banned from the team. He just gave Ron a smile while he gave in to his own internal debate as he continued to collect the last few items that would be needed.
Dumbledore would have to let him fly. It was one of the few things that he had in his life that still made him happy and gave him a thrill. Of course Dumbledore would place him back on the team, he reassured himself. He was crazy to even think the headmaster wouldn't.
Harry made his way back to the table carefully balancing all ten of the ingredients. It was difficult with the way the bottle of cricket legs would wobble from the movement inside. After carefully placing them on the desk him and Blaise began to work. Neither of the boys said a word to the other, coming to an unspoken truce, for their grade's sake of course. Gryffindor-Slytherin battles were set aside in Snape's class as all were desperate to receive passing marks.
The thirty minutes flew by quickly and soon they were adding the bat eyes which would be the final step. Behind his table, Harry heard a ruckus. He turned to see Pansy flaying about as if she were having a seizure of some sort. His confusion ended when he saw Seamus stifling his laughter. It appeared that Seamus had flicked some of the cricket legs into Pansy's curly hair and she was now flinging about trying to get the twitchy limbs out of her hair. She tripped on Neville's book bag and fell against her desk.
The already aged desk toppled over easily and before Harry could even blink an eye, the medium sized cauldron that had been sitting on Pansy and Neville's desk spilled all over the front of him splattering everything from his nose to his toes.
It was like watching a movie of his life rewind as memories of his past began to surface. Everything from waking up this morning, to this summer to fifth year, to the grave yard, to his letter, to his cupboard to…unknown faces.
The class watched in amazement and Severus in horror, as the Boy-Who-Lived began to shrink. His features became softer and his eyes brighter. It was quite a strange sight indeed. They could see the years slipping away from him in fast succession. And then it stopped and a small boy stood were the 16 year old had been standing. Green eyes stared uncertainly at all the faces that were watching him.
It was easy to tell the boy was skinny and with Harry's robes draped over his body the boy looked like a stick. Blaise, whom was closest to the boy and had narrowly missed being doused by the potion himself, stood in shock much like the rest of his peers. There was no doubt in any one's mind that the boy in front of them was the young Harry Potter.
The question that hung in everyone's mind was where would such a small child get such a large bruise on their face?.