a/n: This story is AU! Not all of the events follow the books! You have been warned; Harry(age 21) has experienced a different past from what happened according to JKR.
disclaimer: I do not own the copyright to the HP books, nor do I claim to. I write for me, not for money.
Harry, age 21
Harry hesitated. It was finally time to go, and now he was having second thoughts; that wasn't acceptable to him. They had all worked so hard to get to this point... It would not be wasted. He steeled himself, reminding himself that he had already made his decision. Then he shouted the incantation that he, Albus, and Nicolas, and later just he and Nicolas, had worked for so long to create. Harry cried out as he was flung back in time.
'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'
Harry, age 6
"I'm looking for Harry Potter."
Huddled in his cupboard under the stairs, Harry froze when he heard those words. The stranger was asking for him?
"What-why are you looking for the boy?" Aunt Petunia stammered, then, sounding almost hopeful, she asked, "Are you some family of his, come to take him away? You certainly look like you could be."
"Yes."
What, Harry thought, he's going to take me? Is he my family? Why now? What's going on?
"Yes...to which?"
"To both, I suppose. I have come to relieve you of the boy's care, hopefully forever. Are you alright with that?"
Petunia hesitated. She had been given the responsibility of looking after the Potter boy, and it was not in her nature to shirk a responsibility. However, she wasn't sure that she could handle raising two boys of the same age, and she didn't particularly want Potter.
"I...suppose so. Will he be safe? And well cared for? I want to make sure that that Dumbledore man is informed of this. I will not be to blame should something happen to the boy."
"He will be well cared for, I assure you. I'm going to take him to a home where he will be loved and appreciated in the utmost. Feel free to write Dumbledore, I will as well. Is Harry around right now? Does he have any things?"
"We-well, forgive me, this is very sudden. I'll get him, mister..."
"Potter."
"Yes, of course. Harry? I know that you can hear me. Come out!"
Harry came out. He peeped around the open door of his cupboard to get a better look at the man who would apparently be taking him away, and saw that he looked, well, like Harry. That is, almost like Harry. He was a young man, younger that his aunt and uncle, with untidy black hair like Harry's own. He wore round glasses perched on his nose over light brown eyes. His features were like Harry's, although he had a slightly longer nose. Aunt Petunia was right: he certainly did look like family.
"Hello, Harry. It's very nice to meet you."
'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'
Harry, age 21
"Hello, Harry," he said, looking down at the small form of his younger self, "It's very nice to meet you."
"You look like me," the boy stated, and Harry chuckled at his bluntness.
"Well, I should," he said, "It makes sense. You really do look like me, though, kiddo, but you have your mother's eyes."
Harry was impersonating his father. He knew that memories of this event would probably be viewed in the future, and he wanted it to be as hard to figure out as possible. Plus, certain people might be a lot more accepting if the ghost of James Potter was involved.
Younger Harry's eyebrows scrunched.
"Wait," he said, "you knew my mother?"
"Yes," Harry said shortly.
"Who are you?"
Harry hesitated, but only just for a moment.
"You can call me Prongs, Harry." He grinned broadly at the befuddled boy in front of him.
"Okaaaay?" Yes, that was definitely a confused kid. Little Harry has no idea what was going on. Except that he was going to leave of course. Aunt Petunia was looking at Harry oddly. It would probably be best to leave before she got too suspicious.
"So!" Harry exclaimed, startling the messy-haired boy, "Grab your stuff and let's get going! We're going to see your uncle Moony!" The younger Harry looked dazed, but pleased at the mention of another new family member.
"Sure," the boy replied, and ducked into the cupboard to grab his meager belongings. Harry had to buy little Harry some new cloths.
When young Harry came back out with a small bag of belongings, Harry offered his younger self his hand. The boy took it cautiously, and followed him out of the house.
'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'
Harry, age 6
Harry trotted after Prongs out of the house, and the man led Harry down the street to the bus stop. The boy watched curiously as Prongs pulled a thin stick out of his pocket, and stuck it out into the road. There was a tremendous BANG, and almost immediately, a triple-decker bright purple bus screeched to a stop in front of them.
"Woah!" Harry exclaimed, "Where did it come from?" Prongs grinned at Harry as the door to the bus opened, and a girl with spiked green hair stepped out.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you would like to go! I'm Beomia Tallon, and I will be your conductor this evening." Harry was staring wide-eyed at the girl when Prongs put a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you," he said. "Please excuse my son's staring, it's his first time on the Knight Bus. Come along, Harry." The girl reached to take Harry's bag, and he handed it over. He and Prongs made their way to a seat in the back of the bus, and after the girl had walked away, Harry asked, "Why did you call me your son?" Prongs gazed at Harry undecidedly, looking him up and down, before responding.
"It was the easiest way to explain," he said simply, and did not offer any other explanation. Before Harry could say another word, there was another deafening BANG, and Harry was almost flung out of his seat. He only managed not to fall to the floor by clinging to Prongs's long coat, which he now realized was more of a cloak.
"All right, there, Harry? You should probably hold on to the seat. It's going to be quite a rough ride. I never did understand why they don't have seatbelts..." Prongs trailed off, and Harry clung to his seat. A moment later, Harry realized something else that he thought he should have immediately.
"She said witch or wizard!" he exclaimed, looking at Prongs. "But-but there's no such thing, is there?" Prongs just looked at Harry, and the boy had no idea what he was thinking.
I got the idea for this story and it's fun to write, but I'm not completely sure where to go next. I do have an idea though. Should I continue the story? Yes or no: you can decide.
Please review!
