I knew something was amiss the moment I opened my eyes.

Instead of seeing sunshine pour through the blinds of my room's window, all I saw was total darkness. And I meant total darkness. Even if I had awakened in the middle of the night, I should have been able to see as I left my desk lamp on throughout the night (waste of electricity, but it was a habit).

I didn't panic right away. After all, it was perfectly reasonable that my lamp died as I fell asleep or one of my parents turned it off. However, I grew increasingly unnerved as I fumbled in the dark for my desk lamp. My room felt much smaller than before, though it was far too dark to tell exactly how small the room was. Not only that, I noticed that my room no longer had a lamp or a desk for that matter.

"The hell?" I mumbled.

I clutched my mouth with my hands as I realized that my voice sounded much higher than normal, and my words were spoken with a damn British accent! Immediately, I patted myself down and I felt that I had gotten smaller. My frame was skinnier than before, and my ... snake was much smaller.

"What. The actual. Hell."

So apparently, not only was I not in my room, but I was also in a child's body and I was speaking with a British accent. Some absurd theories popped into my head, ranging from kidnapping and experimentation to aliens. None of them made me feel any better about the predicament I was in.

Instead of sitting in the dark, I decided to search for a light switch to illuminate the room. Well, I could hardly call it a room. It was more like a closet to be exact. I however rather quickly shoved those thoughts aside and began flailing around in the dark for anything to shed light on my situation.

After about ten seconds, my hands found a long string attached to the ceiling. I gently pulled on the string and a single light bulb turned on, just two feet above my head. I looked around to search for any clues as to where I was, or possibly a mirror to see if my face was still the same.

The room, or rather closet, was as small as I imagined. Even though my body was tiny, I was able to touch the entire width of the room by stretching my arms out. The length of the room wasn't any better; there was just enough space for a bed, a small dresser, and a pile of books. To my disappointment, there were no mirrors or windows to show where I was or who I was. However, I did spot a small door on one of the walls.

I tumbled out of bed and looked down at my clothes. They were all ill-fitting and loose, as if someone has stretched them out before giving them to me to wear. I frowned as I glanced at the door anxiously. Was it possible that I was being kept prisoner and being watched?

Despite my reluctance, my curiosity got the better of me. I slowly pushed open the door and was basked in bright sunlight coming from a window nearby. I rushed to the window immediately and looked out. There were many houses outside, and it seemed like I was in the suburbs of a town. The scene looked somewhat familiar, but out of place at the same time. I opened the window and drew in a fresh breath of air. Just as I was about to yell for help, a voice rang out behind me.

"Boy!"

I turned to see a pudgy man dressed in a large dress shirt and brown dress pants, as if he was getting ready for work. If I could explain the looks of this man in one word it would simply be 'overweight.' The expression on his face was distorted and he looked enraged as he saw me leaning out the open window. "What the hell are you trying to do, you freak?"

My body instantly froze at his words. I turned around fully, away from the window to look at him closely, "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, freak! Why are you hanging out of the window?"

"I was just getting a breath of fresh air," I replied calmly.

"You can get all the fresh air you would like after I toss you out for school. Now go to the kitchen and get to work!"

I blinked and held my ground. I had my suspicions about something, but I needed to clear up a few puzzling thoughts in my mind. "What's the address of this house?"

The man's eyes glistened dangerously, "Are you demanding something from me boy?"

"No ... I just wanted to ask for something school-related. I forgot this house's address."

"So, you got in trouble again. Expected, since your parents were also nothing but trouble," the man snickered. "Unlike Dudley, who was raised by me properly."

Are you fucking serious?

I stared numbly at Uncle Vernon as he rambled on about how his son was the best and how 'I' was a failure.

The Harry Potter world? The fuck?

Of course, I didn't say that out loud. However, my mind was racing at the fact that I had somehow been thrown into a world of magic and chaos without any explanation or guidance at all. And it wasn't like I had asked to be transported to this world! I was perfectly content in the 'normal' world, living out my days as a twenty-two-year-old college student studying to become a history teacher. Instead, I was now stuck in the Harry Potter world as Harry Potter himself. Unless I managed to return to my world, I was going to be stuck with a whole lot of misery, pain, and death.

Well, this is great. If there is a God, then he is dead.

"Boy! Have you been listening to anything I've been saying? Get to work immediately!"

Uncle Vernon's voice thundered throughout the hallway and snapped me back to reality. For now, I had to deal with the fact that I was Harry fucking Potter and try not to die from his relatives' wrath. As I walked down the hall to look for the kitchen, I called back to my 'uncle,' "Uncle, if you don't mind me asking. What is today's date?"

I swore that the man looked infuriated by my simple question, as if it took all his efforts to not explode. I knew it was due to Harry's lineage as a wizard, but it seemed ridiculous how bigoted the man was. After a moment of fuming silence, he finally answered with an edge in his voice, "First of March."

"The year?"

"Perhaps a good beating would help you remember more clearly," Uncle Vernon replied smugly, as he walked a bit too close for my comfort.

Aw hell no, I immediately backed as fast I could away from him.

As I stumbled around the house, my thoughts drifted to images of my family members and friends. I gripped the walls near the living room tightly as I imagined them shaking my lifeless body in an effort to wake me up. Was my body currently lifeless? Or was another 'me' in my place in my world? Was it possible for me to return back to my 'real' body? Shaking my head, I took a deep breath and cleared my thoughts. If there was a way to return, I would find it. Maybe I was occupying Harry's body because I needed to help him grow, or whatever. Until I was able to find a way to return, I needed to stay safe and utilize whatever advantages I had at my disposal.

It took me about a minute to find the kitchen. The house itself wasn't large, so it wasn't difficult to discern where all the rooms were. When I finally found my destination, it was empty and devoid of life. I looked at the clock on the wall; it was currently six o'clock in the morning. There was a calendar adorning the wall, below the clock, which showed that the year was currently 1991.

I mused silently at the date on the wall as I walked into the cramped kitchen. So not only did I travel worlds, but I was also thrown back in time. Did that I mean I could stop certain world events from happening, like 9/11 or the Oklahoma City bombing? I was lost in thought until a small mirror that was resting on the dinner table caught my attention. I gently picked it up and inspected my face.

Sure enough, I looked exactly like 'Harry Potter,' a clone copy of Daniel Radcliffe in his elementary school days. However, Harry looked far too skinny for his age and while I was in his body, I felt much shorter than when I was ten years old. It still felt surreal to see that my face was no longer my own and I made a few different facial expressions to make sure that it was all real. When Harry's face reacted perfectly to my commands, I sighed and turned away from the mirror. I did notice that I didn't have any glasses on and I was able to see clearly, which was odd, because I was absolutely certain that Harry wore glasses.

"Probably due to the mind swap," I muttered lightly, feeling awkward with my new voice and face. Hopefully, the Dursleys wouldn't care and people wouldn't immediately think that I was an imposter due to my lack of glasses.

I tried to access Harry's memories, but I couldn't find any of them. In fact, it was as if my memories and my personality had completely taken over Harry's body. I let out a frustrating sigh as I looked at the refrigerator. Harry was supposed to do some sort of morning chore in the kitchen. It wasn't surprising, as he was basically treated as a slave in the books. I wasn't entirely sure what I had to do, but I had a hunch that I had to cook breakfast for the entire Dursley family. Why they wanted a ten-year-old to cook their breakfast, I couldn't fathom, but within minutes, I was preparing a simple breakfast that consisted of scrambled eggs and sausages. Sure, I was a college student, but I still knew how to cook meals. Usually, I made rice mixed with soy sauce and eggs for breakfast, due to my Korean heritage, but the people I was feeding were British. So I had to make do.

As I was cooking, I sorted through any Harry Potter facts that I knew. I tried to separate canon from fanfiction (and yes, I did read a few Harry Potter fanfictions in my free time) as I went through my memories, which proved to be difficult as I had read the fanfictions more recently than the actual canon books themselves. Harry's birthday was July 31st, 1980, so that meant that the Hogwarts letter was due to arrive in around five months.

I rolled the sausages around the heated pan when suddenly, a large boy who looked suspiciously like a wrecking ball, stumbled into the kitchen. A pair of slanted eyes, that popped out underneath his fat cheeks, bore down on me as I cooked. He either noticed that my glasses were missing and wasn't saying anything, or he was just too thick-headed to care. "It smells disgusting."

"It's your breakfast," I deadpanned.

Dudley stumbled over to the stove and looked at the content of his breakfast, "Where's the bacon? You know bacon is my favorite."

Attempting to avoid an argument, I reached into the fridge and grabbed a pack of bacon, "How much do you want?"

"Ten pieces."

I nodded my head wordlessly and tossed a dozen pieces of bacon on a new frying pan. Sure, the Dursleys were assholes, if the books were correct. However, I was most likely stuck with them for some time. The best I could do in this situation was to not antagonize them and try to get on their good side. If they even had a good side. I already had a few ideas to get the Dursleys off my back, so I kept quiet and listened to my so-called cousin rant about my uselessness and stupidity.

The good thing about myself (or at least, what I thought were my favorable attributes) was that I was even-headed and patient. I knew how to keep my temper in check, as I grew up with four brothers who attempted to grate my nerves during every second of my existence. A small boy that looked like a medicine ball wasn't going to light my fuse anytime soon, no matter what names he called me.

After a few minutes, I finished cooking breakfast and served it out on the table. I managed to cook a bit extra for myself, sneaked in some toast and egg on a napkin, and walked back to the cupboard. Dudley was too busy wolfing down his breakfast, so I managed to sneak back to Harry's 'room' with my precious breakfast.

While I was sitting on the edge of the bed, I ate my breakfast, assessed my situation and planned for the best way forward. I didn't know how long I would be stuck in this body, but until I could return, I had to survive the Dursleys, Hogwarts, and Voldemort. All in that order. I thought about my worried parents and friends and formulated a workable plan to deal with future threats while finding a way to 'jump' through worlds. I had to return; this world wasn't my place.

My train of thought was only broken after Aunt Petunia (or a woman who I assumed was Aunt Petunia) screamed at me in the hallway, telling me it was time for school. I mentally groaned at the thought, elementary school.

Five months.

I had to wait for five excruciating months until I got my Hogwarts letter.

It took a month to adjust to my new reality. Even with all the evidence surrounding me, I felt like I was hallucinating or stuck in a very realistic dream. However the disbelief I held of my current situation slowly chipped away day by day. I never woke up into my real body and whenever I fell asleep, I always woke up in Harry Potter's body. This world wasn't some sort of lucid dream, but reality.

During the five months, I went out of my way to do everything I could to appease the Dursleys. Call me a suck-up or whatever, but I did not want to get thrown into the cupboard without food for screwing up or making a scene. I knew that even if I did nothing wrong, I would still get punished if the Dursleys deemed it. And besides, I knew that Dumbledore had that old lady as his spy to make sure Harry (aka me) was still here, so I was stuck for the time being. I kept my head down, helped around the house constantly (to Aunt Petunia's chagrin and satisfaction), and acted as if nothing was wrong.

Keeping my head down at school was easy. Sure, I could've been labeled as a child prodigy and breezed through the classes without any difficulties. However, I knew from the books that the Dursleys hated it when Harry achieved better scores than Dudley at school. I quickly managed to discover Dudley's average test scores and kept my scores a tad below his. Even though he seemed a bit thick-headed, Dudley actually managed to pass all of his classes, and I did too, just barely. Not that it mattered; I knew that I was going to be forced to attend a boarding school in Scotland in the fall. Avoiding Dudley after school was simple, I just camped out in a public library for a few hours and walked back home alone. After a week or so, Dudley and his gang lost interest in trying to find me and started picking on some other innocent kid after school.

As for at home, I just did all the chores that Aunt Petunia assigned me to do, and more. I cleaned the house on a regular basis, did the laundry, cooked, and any other unfinished house chores that were available to me. I was familiar with these types of chores, as I was fairly independent and used to doing them on a daily basis in my college apartment. I often carried out my chores before anyone asked me to do them, and thankfully, this managed to tone down the curses hurled at me. The Dursleys seemed confused when I started to do all the house duties without any complaints, but before long, they took it in stride and occasionally muttered that I was finally doing something useful for them. It wasn't much, but it was something.

When I wasn't at school or doing chores, I kept to myself inside the cupboard and read books I borrowed from the library. Most of them were history books (I was a history major back in college before my 'transition' here), which I used to compare my world's history with this world's history. There were almost no major historical differences between the two worlds, but I did notice that there was an unusual number of major accidents in Britain that happened around the time that Voldemort was still alive (around the late '70s). That didn't come as much surprise, but it was interesting how ordinary people managed to weave Voldemort's raids as IRA terrorist attacks or traffic accidents.

Finally, after four months of toiling away, I managed to get through two weeks without any of the Dursleys getting angry in my face. It sounded like a minor accomplishment, but it was a pretty great feat considering that the entire family hated my guts. I weathered Dudley's attempts to sabotage me, Uncle Vernon's snide insults, and Aunt Petunia's meddling. It was difficult to balance out the acts of the Three Stooges and make sure that I wasn't blamed for any misgivings, but I managed somehow. I even managed to convince Uncle Vernon to lock me up in the cupboard instead of dragging me out for Dudley's birthday, which I was immensely grateful for. The last thing I wanted to do was to go to the zoo with my 'cousin' and accidentally cause a scene, even if I knew what was ahead.

I woke up early the day after Dudley got his Smeltings uniform and walked into the kitchen to start my daily routine. It was still early in the day, so I was alone while I was making breakfast. After I whipped up a pretty nice meal for the entire family for when they woke up, I grabbed a bit of food for myself and then walked calmly to the front door.

Today was the day.

For some reason, I remembered certain important details of the Harry Potter series very clearly. For example, I knew that the letter from Hogwarts would arrive the day after Dudley got his Smeltings uniform. I also remembered that Diagon Alley was located on Charing Cross Road in London and other small, important details like that. I wasn't complaining; I needed all the foresight and knowledge I could obtain.

I sat down near the door and propped open a book about the Soviet Union, musing that I was the only one in the world that knew that the USSR was going to fall in just a few months. After an hour of reading and waiting, I heard a truck noisily coming to a halt in front of the house and someone walking towards the front door. As the book prophesied, three pieces of mail slid through the mail slot.

A postcard, a brown envelope, and a letter addressed for "Mr. H Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Holding the letter like it was a piece of gold, I stashed it into my pants and fast-walked to my 'room.' Once I was there, I placed the letter under my bed and returned to the front door to pick up the rest of the mail. After I recovered the brown envelope and the postcard, I walked straight into the kitchen. The breakfast I had made for the family was already finished and now, Aunt Petunia was dying a set of uniforms dirty grey. The kitchen reeked of cheap dye and dirty water and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Uncle Vernon was feeling the same way, as he pinched his nose while he read the newspapers, while Dursley slapped his Smelting stick around the room. With a blank face, I handed the mail to the older man, knowing that my chance for freedom was near. "Here you go uncle, today's mail."

Uncle Vernon grumbled under his breath as he tore open the brown envelope. His mood lightened up a little when he saw the postcard. He looked at me after he finished reading the postcard, "Was that all the mail we got today, boy?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Good. Now scram and go back to your room."

I almost skipped on my way back to the cupboard.

It was late at night when I stepped out of my 'room' and into the hallway of the house. I wore a battered hat that I managed to snatch from school(the hat was to cover my scar and to 'hide" my identity once I reached the wizarding world). I was barely able to see in front of me as I silently crept towards the living room. On my shoulders I carried a small bag that I used for school, filled with a few toiletries, clothes, and the Hogwarts letter. The letter was proof that I was actually living in a world with magic, a ticket out of the Dursley household and to my (temporary) freedom. While the wizarding world was going to be hectic to deal with, I wanted to get an early start on developing my (or Harry's) magic. After all, if I was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, I needed to prepare accordingly to face Voldemort and whatever shenanigans this world wanted to throw at me.

I slowly opened the front door and glanced towards the stairs every once in a while, to see if anyone was trying to stop me. Once the door opened enough for me to sneak out, I squeezed through and closed the door gently behind me. Instead of looking back at the house and loitering around, I ran off towards my next stop. I finally looked back to see that the Dursley household was several blocks away from me.

I was finally fucking free.

My first destination was a train station near the house. There was a giant clock in front of the station and I was relieved to see that I was a bit ahead on time. It was only eleven-thirty, so the train station was still open for business. Technically, I could have taken a cab, but there were far too many dangers. Despite my adult mentality, I was still a little kid on the outside and I wasn't going to risk my life or safety taking a shady cab to London in the middle of the night. And after I learned that Harry Potter did not live in London (what the hell was 'Surrey' and why was it not in London?), I had to find the fastest and safest form of transportation to my final destination.

But I wasn't stupid. I knew that if I was out here alone at night, people would question me and drag me away to Child Protective Services or whatever the equivalent of that was in Britain. So I waited for the lone guy in the ticket booth to look the other way and leaped over the railings on the side of the station (and boy, was that hard considering my height) and climbed onto a nearby platform. It took me three minutes to find the right platform to take me to Charing Cross Station in London, but after I discovered it, I stayed close to a man nearby as if he was my father. There were a few other individuals on the platform, but they didn't ask me questions once I was sitting next to the man.

The train came just ten minutes later, the last train to Charing Cross Station for the day. I eagerly hopped on board and sat down on a window seat. Once the train left the station, I never felt more alive. I stealthily waved at Little Whinging as it disappeared off into the distance and sighed as I thought about my next course of action.

I was almost there. It looked like luck was on my side tonight.

The trip to London was smooth and fast. It took approximately an hour for the train to pull into the station, but after taking a power nap, I was up and ready to go.

I got off the train and immediately walked towards Charing Cross Road itself. The road wasn't too far from the station, thankfully, but I knew it was going to take some time to find the way into the Leaky Cauldron. I faintly remembered that the pub was located in between a bookstore and a record store (that's how I knew I was in the past, a record store out of all places). So once I arrived on the street, I hastily looked around for a bookstore and a record store sitting side by side. I narrowly dodged a policeman on patrol by dipping into an alley. When the policeman left, I stepped out of the alley and spotted what I was looking for: a bookstore and a record store side by side. As I looked carefully between them, an entrance to a dark and rundown pub appeared. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

I felt a faint pulse of magic course through my veins as I entered the Leaky Cauldron, as though confirming that I was now in the magical world of Britain. The pub was completely empty except an old, bald man behind the bar counter. From my memories of the book, I remembered the man's name was Tom. Tom looked at me appraisingly and smiled, "Hello there. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could get a room for the night," I answered carefully.

"Sure. That'll be one Galleon."

I mentally groaned. I had an entire vault full of money, but I couldn't access it until tomorrow. "Is it ok if I can pay you tomorrow? I need to drop by Gringotts first."

"That sounds perfectly fine with me."

"Thank you. It means a lot."

Tom let out a small chuckle and handed me a key, "You can take Room 14. Go upstairs and walk down the hall. The room will be on your right. By the way, what's your name, son?"

"Harry," I answered after some hesitation. I wasn't sure about giving him Harry's real name, but I recalled that Tom only recognized Harry Potter in the first book because of Hagrid. As such, it was probably better to give him my 'real name' as my identity was going to be publicized later on.

"The name's Tom. Nice to meet you, Harry." Tom shook my hand firmly and patted my back, "Enjoy your stay."

After thanking the bartender with a bow and a wave, I stumbled up the stairs to find my room for the night. I found a door with the sign 'Room 14' easily and opened the door with the key I was given. The room was small, but it was certainly comfortable and homely. I walked around the room for a bit, inspecting the furniture and spotted a mirror hanging on the wall near the window. I looked into it and glanced at my reflection.

"Tame your hair! And your clothes are a mess!" The reflection stated rudely.

I ruffled my hair with my fingers and snorted, "My hair was fine. Harry's hair is untamable. As for the clothes, I'll get some new ones tomorrow in Muggle London and Diagon Alley."

Surprisingly, my reflection blinked and replied in a very serious tone, "You are Harry Potter. His hair is your hair. His life is now your life."

Right after that, I went to bed. The reflection's reply freaked me out and left me thinking throughout the entire night.

I woke up early the next morning after a minimal amount of sleep. It took me hours to fall asleep after hearing my reflection's reply, especially since my reflection was right. I was Harry Potter, as far as anyone but me was concerned. I was no longer Darren, an ambitious college student majoring in history who was aiming to become a high school history teacher. I was Harry Potter, a kid that was not yet eleven and was technically homeless.

The thought of it still creeped me out, though. Even after being in this body for five months, I felt like I had committed identity fraud. Yet, I was stuck, at least until I could figure out a way to return to my body and my world.

So, while I still felt weirded out by taking up the mantle of 'Harry Potter,' I needed to make the best out of my situation. Reluctantly, I decided to accept 'my' destiny and identity as Harry Potter. But if I discovered a way home, I was going to take it in a heartbeat. Hell, I was still worried that my 'real body' was in a coma somewhere while my family members and friends cried over my lifeless body. As much as the wizarding world seemed awesome (except for the mass murderer that was known as the Dark Lord and all the stupid blood purity shenanigans), I wasn't going to leave my rather comfortable, former life with my loved ones behind so easily.

When I jumped out of bed, I was now officially 'Harry Potter.'

After I washed up and donned my hat, I walked down the stairs to the bar area and saw that a few individuals were up and eating breakfast. Spotting Tom in the corner, I settled in the closest seat near him and nearly strained myself tapping his shoulders. The bald man turned and smiled when he saw me, "Harry! Good morning. Did you want some breakfast? I've cooked some toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon for you if you want some."

Shit, Tom really knew how to lighten up a guest's mood early on in the day. I eagerly nodded my head at his proposal, which earned a laugh from him, "Easy there, son. I'll get some breakfast for you now, just you wait."

Two minutes later, I was digging into a mountain of scrambled eggs, a heap of bacon, and three buttered toasts. The last time I ate was at the Dursleys, which was over half a day ago. As I ate my breakfast as cleanly as possible, Tom leaned against the counter and talked to me. "So tell me, Harry, why did you come to the Leaky Cauldron at such an odd time by yourself? You look like you're barely old enough to go to Hogwarts!"

I looked up from my breakfast and frowned, "It's a complicated story."

"Try me," Tom replied, with his arms folded.

I answered, "I'm a half-blood. My mum was a Muggleborn and my father was a wizard. Both of them died as soon as I was born and left me an orphan. I was forced to live at my aunt's place, but she was abusive and spiteful. She hated the fact that my parents were magical and made my life a living hell. In fact, I only discovered the wizarding world by accident. My mother left behind a journal that I managed to find while looking through my aunt's attic and I learned about the wizarding world through the journal. The journal mentioned the location of Diagon Alley and when I got a letter from Hogwarts, I decided to escape from my aunt's house and travel to Diagon Alley."

Technically, my story wasn't false except for a few snippets. I needed a plausible reason for knowing about Diagon Alley and the wizarding world, hence the journal part of the story. The story wouldn't work on people like Dumbledore, but it was believable enough to make unknowing wizards and witches believe it was true. At least, I hoped.

Tom nodded his head slowly and patted my back gently, "I'm sorry that happened to you, Harry. Tell you what. Since you don't have anywhere to stay until Hogwarts begins, how about you stay in the Leaky Cauldron, free of charge?"

"But Tom … "

"It feels wrong taking money from a homeless kid. Besides, you're gonna need that money for school supplies! If it makes you feel better, you could run a few errands for me so that you feel like you're earning your keep. And if you need some money for school supplies, then I'll let you borrow some money. Deal?"

He stuck out his hand as if he was expecting me to take it. I felt bad because I knew that Har ... I had a fair amount of money in Gringotts. I decided to speak up and voice my objection, "My mother's journal said that she left an account open for me in Gringotts. I was going to go over there today and see how much I have in there, but I'm pretty sure that the account will have enough money to cover my stay."

The old man tapped his chin, "Then how about this? I'll let you stay here until you go to Hogwarts and you can pay me back after you get a job. There's still ... thirty-four days until Hogwarts starts, so you'll owe me thirty-four Galleons. Is that better?"

I felt like the old man could argue all day about this issue, so I agreed and shook his hand. He gave me a toothy smile and slapped the bar counter lightly, "It's going to be your first time in Diagon Alley later, right? I think I know someone in the pub that can help you out. Finish your breakfast and I'll go talk to her!"

As I scooped more scrambled eggs into my mouth, I watched as the man moved to a table occupied by a girl with sleek black hair and sharp brown eyes. She looked only a bit older than me and wore a t-shirt and jeans. I tried to analyze my memories to see if I knew who she was, but I was unable to place a name to her face. If I had to guess, she was most likely one of the 'unknown' characters in the Harry Potter universe, which was reasonable since there were thousands of wizards and witches in Britain.

Tom spoke to her quietly for a few moments and pointed towards me. The girl turned to look at me for a few moments before nodding her head. The old man grinned and brought her over to me, "This is Lisa Johnson, the granddaughter of a friend of mine. She agreed to help you around Diagon Alley today. Lisa, this is Harry."

"Pleased to meet you," Lisa said with a smile, "I heard that you're starting Hogwarts this year! I'm currently a third-year at Hogwarts, so I'll help you get all your school materials without any trouble!"

I bowed my head respectfully, "Thank you. I'm sorry if you had anything planned today."

She waved her hands dismissively, "It's not a huge deal. I was going to buy some school supplies today anyways. Just let me know when you finish eating and we can be on our way."

After the girl walked back to her table, Tom whispered into my ear reassuringly, "I didn't tell her anything about your background, Harry. I don't share personal information about my guests without their permission. Though, I did tell her that you're completely new to the magical world."

Tom was a relatively 'unexplored' character in the Harry Potter books, but I was beginning to like him a lot already. "Thanks, Tom."

I finished my breakfast quickly and made my way to Lisa's table. The girl was rapidly sketching something in a notebook and wasn't aware that I was in front of her, so I cleared my throat gently to make my presence known. "I'm ready."

The raven-haired girl looked up and hastily put away her notebook, "Hi! I didn't see you there, my bad. Should we get going?"

I nodded my head eagerly and we walked out of the Leaky Cauldron. We arrived in a small, walled courtyard and Lisa pulled out her wand (an actual wand!) to open the gateway to Diagon Alley, "Watch this."

She tapped the wall three times above a set of trash cans and a hole appeared in the wall. The hole opened up to a street paved with cobblestones and filled with numerous stores. Even though I knew what was going to happen, I was still impressed by the sight and it showed.

Lisa grinned, "Pretty sweet, huh? That's how you get to Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron. There are other ways to get to Diagon Alley, but if you're coming from Muggle London, this is the only way."

"Are you a Muggleborn?"

"Nope. Both of my parents are magical, but I do know a thing or two about Muggles. Now come on! I want to visit the shops before they get busy."

I was practically dragged into a cauldron shop nearby before I managed to pull on her arm to grab her attention. "I need to withdraw some money first."

"Right! Then Gringotts it is!"

The two of us made our way to the wizarding bank, which was apparently at the center of Diagon Alley. It was still early on in the day, so the streets were fairly empty. I marveled at all the various stores and buildings that we passed by on our way to the bank. After all, it was my first time witnessing the wizarding world in person. From broomstick stores to potions stores, nearly everything grabbed my attention. Lisa noticed that I was zoning out and ushered me along, "I'll give you a tour of all the shops after we visit Gringotts. You can take a look inside when you have some money to buy things, yeah?"

As we walked through the looming entrance of Gringotts and entered the lobby area, I was fascinated by the goblins that looked straight out of a movie. I've never watched the Harry Potter movies before (though I had seen many movie posters of the Harry Potter series), but they fit the descriptions provided in the books. The goblins were dark-skinned and short, with pointed ears and sharp eyes. There were around a few dozen of them waiting in the teller area, sitting on high stools behind a long counter.

I stopped staring at the goblins once I realized that a few were staring back at me. Before I walked up to one of the goblin tellers, I pulled Lisa aside, "Do you mind if I do this privately? I ... might be looking at my mum's will today."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Lisa patted my shoulder gently, "take your time. I'll be waiting here for you. Before you go though, I have something for you."

She handed me an empty brown pouch. I looked up at her with a puzzled expression, "What is this for?"

"It's a magical pouch to store your coins. Tom asked me to give it to you since you don't have one. Anyway, hope everything goes well!"

I thanked her and walked up to an unoccupied booth. The goblin behind the counter looked annoyed as he eyed me carefully, "Welcome to Gringotts. How can I be of service today, sir?"

"I would like to make a withdrawal from my bank account."

"Your name?"

"Harry Potter."

The goblin nodded his head slowly and looked unsurprised, "Do you have your key with you?"

"I was wondering if I can get a new key, as I lost my old one," I lied smoothly.

"You lost possession of your key?" The goblin frowned deeply as he tapped his fingers on the counter, "Very well. We can arrange for you to get a new one. Sharpnails!"

Sharpnails looked like an ordinary goblin. However, true to his name, his nails were extremely long and sharp. The goblin behind the counter turned to him as he entered, "Take him to the Key Room and make him a new key. Guide him to his vault after he gets his key."

"This way," Sharpnails snapped as he walked towards one of the many exits leading out of the room.

The goblin opened a doorway leading to a small stone passageway lined with railroad tracks. He scratched his nails on the walls and a small cart raced up the tracks towards him. After the two of us were 'secured[ inside the cart, which had no handles or seatbelts, it rolled down the tracks and sped off.

I was both thrilled and terrified as we weaved through various caverns and passageways. I loved roller coasters, but roller coasters had safety measures. This 'goblin roller coaster' was just a wooden box with wheels. Every time the cart lurched from a bump or a turn, I held on to the side tightly for dear life. Sharpnails noticed my nervousness and gave me a toothy grin.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we stopped in front of a small building with a pair of iron doors. I stumbled out of the cart, much to the amusement of my goblin escort, and followed him into the building.

The inside was brightly lit and clean. The room contained a pair of chairs, a long table, a stack of keys, and a few strange looking instruments adorning a single bookshelf. Sharpnails motioned for me to sit on one of the chairs and I obliged all too happily, as my legs were still shuddering from the cart ride.

"Is this your first time replacing a key with us, Mr. Potter?"

As I nodded my head, the goblin brought out a small bowl. My eyes widened as I realized that they needed to verify my identity before they crafted a new key. There was a lot of speculation on how Gringotts verified a wizard's identity, but it seemed like most of the fanon community agreed that it was confirmed through a blood test.

"Spit in it."

I looked at him incredulously, "Do what now?"

"Spit in the bowl."

"Are you testing to make sure that I'm Harry Potter?"

Sharpnails rolled his eyes, "Of course. This is the standard procedure. We have a wizard or witch spit in this bowl in order to verify their background."

"I thought you used blood to verify someone's identity?"

The goblin stared at me for a few seconds before roaring with laughter, "Blood? Let us goblins test a wizard's blood? The Ministry would never allow such a thing to happen! After all, blood can be used for many things, including dark rituals. No, this method is safer and much less painful."

"How does this exactly work?" I asked. I guess he had a point when he mentioned the dangers of allowing the goblins handling a wizard's or a witch's blood. After all, blood wards existed in this world, so blood curses or spells most likely existed as well. I was still unsure about the whole 'spit in a bowl and we know who you are' thing, but I was curious about how it worked.

"Simple. When you spit, it also lets out a small 'trace' of your magic. Every wizard and witch has a unique magic trace, and their bodily fluids leave behind some of that trace for a few minutes. After you spit in the bowl, I will analyze it using a few of my tools over there," Sharpnails waved to the instruments on the shelf, "and verify your identity. After that, I will create a new key for you. Now spit."

I followed his orders and spat in the bowl. He peered inside and clicked his tongue, "Not enough, Mr. Potter. Spit a little bit more."

I spat into the bowl again. It seemed like the amount of spit in the bowl was satisfactory this time, so Sharpnails took the bowl to the bookshelf and worked on the instruments for several minutes. After he finished, he turned back to me and gave me a tight smile, "Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Potter. Let us make you your key then."

It was a bit disappointing to discover that the goblin wasn't going to forge me my own key. Instead, Sharpnails grabbed a random key from the key pile and stamped the number '712' onto it. The key glowed for a few seconds before the numbers settled.

"The cost of replacing the key is five Galleons, which has already been deducted from your account. Now then, let us go to your vault."

The trip to my vault was just as disorientating as the trip to the Key Room. I was barely steady on my feet when Sharpnails opened the door to my vault with the new key and ushered me inside. When I entered, I came face to face with piles of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. I took some time to look around the vault before shoveling coins into my pouch.

Behind the piles of coins towards the entrance, there were a few thick books arranged neatly in a small bookshelf. I pulled out a book with a black cover and read the title, 'A Wizard's Guide to Potions?'

Then I looked at the author of the book and my blood froze. The name 'Lily Evans' was printed below the title.

"Ah, yes. Everything in this vault belongs to you. Feel free to take them," Sharpnails mentioned.

Wait, were these books in the Harry Potter series? I was pretty certain that they weren't, but since I was sent to the Harry Potter world, weren't these books canon? If so, then why did the 'original' Harry Potter not use them during his time at Hogwarts? Did Harry overlook these books by accident? Or was there a more nefarious plot involved?

My mind was swirling with confusion and uncertainty as I took all the books with me. There were six in total, and each book was written by Lily Evans and focused on a certain subject. I didn't understand most of what was written inside the books, but I did recognize that they contained a lot of useful information for the future. I decided to read them once I got back to the Leaky Cauldron. The 'other' Harry Potter never used these books, but I sure as hell was going to use them. I needed every edge I could get.

After placing about a hundred Galleons in the pouch, I walked out of the vault with the books in my arms. Sharpnails was generous enough to help me carry some of the books, though he stated that he was going to charge me extra for his 'services.' I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but I remained silent on our trip back to the top; I was too focused on surviving the cart ride.

As we were walking back to the lobby area, a spontaneous thought appeared in my mind and I turned to my escort. "Is that vault the only part of my inheritance?"

I was going to be at Hogwarts for the next several years, so increasing my fortune passively was going to be beneficial.

"Unfortunately so. While the Potter family was rich and influential in its prime, your parents liquidated many of their assets and stored them into that vault in a rush. This devalued many of their possessions since the buyers knew that your parents were in a hurry to sell everything. They may still have properties or possessions elsewhere, but Gringotts does not have any knowledge about them."

"How much is in that vault?"

"After your withdrawal, the vault's total value is fifteen thousand, four hundred and fifty-two Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and twenty Knuts."

How he knew the exact amount, I didn't know.

"Were any withdrawals made while I was... away?"

"No. I have checked the records and the Potter vault was untouched for the last ten years."

I adjusted my cap and collected my thoughts, "Is it possible to invest that money into Muggle stocks or such?"

"We do not deal with Muggles or non-magical beings."

God damn it fanon. Well, my plan to invest in Apple and a few other tech companies was out the window for now. Not until I turned a bit older. "What about converting currency?"

"We do convert Galleons into Muggle pounds, with a transaction fee of course. The current rate is one Galleon for ten pounds."

The exchange rate wasn't too bad. Ten pounds was around seventeen American dollars. Seventeen dollars for a Galleon meant that I had two hundred and fifty grand in the vault. "Is there any way to invest the money so it's not just sitting in the vault?"

Sharpnails gave me a predatory grin, "Certainly, but you would need to speak with a manager to have that arranged."

I shuddered at his smile, but maintained my composure, "Then may I see them before I leave?"

"That can be arranged, provided that you put in a good word for me."

"A good word?"

The goblin bared his sharp teeth, "Gringotts workers are promoted and demoted based on the satisfaction of its customers. The more ... important a customer is, the more influence they have on our assessment. While you are not extremely wealthy, you have a substantial amount of money within your vault. If you mention to the manager that my performance today was exemplary, I will make sure that you are able to meet him right away."

"Of course," I replied. Sharpnails did unnerve me at times, but he was certainly helpful and answered all my questions.

"Thank you for your patronage. Now follow me."

After entering the lobby area once again (I gave a wave and a thumbs-up to Lisa, who nodded her head in reply), we went down a flight of stairs to an area that was labeled 'Gringotts Employees Only.' My goblin escort opened the door to the sector and led me through a maze of offices before arriving at an unmarked doorway. Sharpnails knocked on the door three times before entering.

"Manager Bloodruby," Sharpnails said as he bowed, "let me introduce you to Mr. Harry Potter, the current owner of Vault 712."

Bloodruby was taller than most goblins, though he was still shorter than me. He had short, gray hair and bright red cheeks. When we walked in, he looked like he was filling out some paperwork on his desk. The manager organized the papers on his desk and looked at me calculatingly, "Hello Mr. Potter. What business do you have with me today?"

"He wants to invest the money in his vault through our bank," Sharpnails stated proudly.

"I see ... Sharpnails, if you can remove yourself from the room while I speak to our esteemed guest. In fact, go and help out another guest. I'll make sure that Mr. Potter is escorted back to the lobby after we finish talking."

The goblin looked disgruntled, but bowed his head, "Yes, Manager Bloodruby."

Once Sharpnails left the office, the manager placed his small hands on his desk, "Now then, Mr. Potter. I'm assuming what Sharpnails said was true?"

"Yes, Manager Bloodruby." I didn't know anything about goblin etiquette and I didn't believe that fanon portrayed it accurately. So I remained respectful and watched the goblin carefully.

"Well then, let me see the status of your vault," Bloodruby pulled out a folder from a bookshelf behind him and opened it. "A fair amount of money, Mr. Potter. You are a bit young, but it's good to start taking an interest in money at a young age. What percentage of the vault are you utilizing for your investments?"

"A quarter." Sixty thousand dollars was a solid amount for a starting investment and even if I managed to blow that money, I still had plenty left to use for investing in the 'real' world stock market. I wasn't good at economics, but I invested in several thousand dollars worth of stocks in my free time back at 'home.' Thank god for smartphones and stock apps.

"And will you be handling your portfolio personally, or hiring a broker to handle the matter for you?"

"I would like to hire a broker if you don't mind."

"The broker will be a goblin, is that alright with you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" I naively asked. Maybe wizards didn't like it when goblins handled their money? I had no idea.

The manager shook his head, "Never mind that. Considering your age and the amount of money you are willing to invest, I will hire a decently experienced broker for you. You will pay him a monthly fee. It will either be three percent of your investment budget or ten percent of the profits from your investments, whichever one is higher. Do you know what you want to invest in?"

I thought for a few moments before answering, "I'll leave it up to my broker. But please have him send me an owl weekly to keep me updated about the situation."

I only knew parts of the wizarding world that were portrayed in the Harry Potter books. Placing my hopes and money into something that I wanted was foolhardy. After all, I didn't have any inside knowledge about how the economy worked. It was better to leave it to the broker to handle the matter while I learned about the wizarding world's economics.

"Of course," Bloodruby replied courteously as he scribbled something into the folder. "Well then, Mr. Potter, will there be anything else, before I escort you back to the lobby?"

"Just one more thing, Sharpnails went above and beyond today and helped me greatly."

Bloodruby gave me a knowing smile. It wasn't a grin or a sneer, but an actual smile. "I'll mark that down for future reference."

I stood up and stretched my hand for him to shake. The goblin looked at my hand for a few moments, but shook it in the end, "Thank you for your help."

"We are all too happy to help you make money ... and make money ourselves."

"You made a goblin your broker?" Lisa shrieked as we walked towards Ollivander's.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Well depends," The raven-haired girl shrugged, "the goblins are great at making money, but they're also prone to making high-risk gambles to maximize profits quickly. Usually, most wizards and witches handle their own finances and investments. But hey, aren't you a bit young to start playing with money?"

She placed her hand on her hip and looked at me accusingly. I threw up my hand defensively, "I'm an orphan and my only living relatives hate me, so I have to fend for myself. I have to start making money now to make sure that I have enough for the future."

That was partially true. I could easily live off two hundred and fifty grand for seven years at Hogwarts. However, I was worried about what would happen after graduation. I wanted to find a way to return to my world, which meant that I might need money to hire researchers and experts, along with equipment for experiments. And if I was unable to find a way home, then I was planning on leaving the wizarding world and getting a job in the 'real world.' Magic was great, but I didn't need to get a job in the wizarding world to use magic. I just needed to make sure that I maintained the Statute of Secrecy and I was free to do whatever, at least hopefully. This meant that I needed a decent amount of funds to transition myself back into the real world.

"Oh," Lisa replied. She tried to make herself look smaller and slowed her pace, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I should have guessed when you were at the Leaky Cauldron by yourself. I guess being an orphan made you mature faster, huh?"

I nodded silently. The girl patted my head and pulled me into a hug, "Don't worry, when you get to Hogwarts, I'll take care of you."

Admittedly, Lisa smelled like lavender and gave nice hugs. However, I lightly pushed her away as my mind blinked images that were highly inappropriate considering her age and my mental age.

"Thanks, Lisa."

After a period of awkward silence, we continued our trek towards the wand shop. Ollivander's was our first destination due to my insistence, since I really wanted a wand to try out some magic. I already knew what wand I was going to get, but I was still pumped to get a real, functioning wand.

By the time the two of us reached the store, the awkwardness between us was gone. Lisa talked about the four houses at Hogwarts and their traits while I pretended to be ignorant about the subject.

"I'm in Hufflepuff. Other houses think we're a bit of a joke, but Hufflepuffs are loyal and very friendly. We're really laid back, and we don't have any intense rivalries with the other Houses so we maintain good relations with them," Lisa mentioned as she opened the door to the small wand shop. "If you want a relatively stress-free school life with a lot of friends and fun, you should try to get into Hufflepuff."

I guess she had a good point. If I wanted to have friends in all the houses, then Hufflepuff was probably the safest bet. Ravenclaws were rather isolated and anti-social, if the books were anything to go by. Gryffindors hated the Slytherins, and vice versa. However, my views weren't blinded by the house rivalries and I knew that alienating students in other houses was unproductive. If I wanted to survive against Voldemort, then I needed a lot of allies. The other Harry managed to win due to extremely good luck, so I wasn't taking any chances. I was going to form steady relationships with the people I knew from the books and make friends with the 'unknowns' as well, like Lisa.

Besides, I liked the sound of the laid back atmosphere and lack of tension. I wouldn't need to deal with Hogwarts drama, at least, that was my hope. And I would be able to study and prepare for the future freely.

"You're doing a pretty good job of convincing me," I mused.

A bell tinkled as we walked into the shop and an old man stepped to the front of the shop to greet us. "Hello, Harry Potter."

Lisa and I both froze, for different reasons. I froze because I completely forgot that Ollivander somehow knew the identity of every individual that walked in the shop. Lisa most likely froze because she was unaware of my real identity.

"Harry Potter?" Lisa mouthed quietly as she looked at me in awe. "You're Harry Potter?"

I groaned audibly, "I wasn't trying to trick you, Lisa. I didn't think my full name would be important."

It was a lame excuse, but how was I supposed to respond? Technically, I wasn't supposed to know I was famous since I was isolated in the real world. And since my so-called mom died before I became famous, I couldn't say that I found out through my mom's 'journal.'

"You're Harry Potter," the girl said once again. "Oh Merlin! I had no idea!"

"Er, am I that famous?" I replied as I feigned ignorance.

"Of course you are! You defeated You-Know-Who, the Dark Wizard!"

"How old was I when I defeated him?"

"You were just a baby when you managed to defeat him!"

I sighed, "Right, but I don't have any memories of defeating him and I don't think I'm special. So, if you can keep my identity a secret and just call me 'Harry,' that would be great. I don't want people to give me attention or stare at me for something I don't even remember doing."

Lisa barely managed to nod her head as she maintained her stare. This was why I wanted to keep my identity a secret. I didn't want to deal with all the 'the Boy-Who-Lived' shenanigans. Sure, my status would be useful in certain situations, such as using my name as leverage and forming friendships. However, I didn't want to be at the center of attention, especially outside of Hogwarts. The last thing I wanted was for people to fawn over me and follow me around like I was the President of the United States.

And I didn't want people like Dumbledore to know about the fact that I escaped from my so-called aunt's house.

"Do not worry, Mr. Potter, I will keep your visit a secret," Ollivander said with a ghostly smile, "Lisa Johnson! I'm sure that she will keep quiet about your affairs as well. How is your wand? Eleven and a half inches, cedar, an excellent wand for a loyal and caring person such as yourself."

"It's absolutely great, sir," The raven-haired girl pulled out her wand for the wandmaker to see, "and he's right Harry, my lips are sealed. I mean it."

I smiled at her in appreciation and nodded, "Thank you."

"Now then," Olivander clapped his hands together, "let us find the proper wand for you, Mr. Potter. If you can take a seat right over here … "

A tape measure popped out of the wand maker's pockets and inspected every nook and cranny of my body. As the tape measure moved from wrist to elbow independently, Ollivander spoke softly under his breath, "You are not eleven yet, but your birthday is in two days so it should not be a problem. Excellent posture, you most definitely have a future in dueling."

He stopped for a moment as he gazed at my battered cap, "May I see it?"

I wordlessly removed the hat from my head.

The old man looked at me solemnly before placing the cap back on my head. "I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that created this scar. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. A powerful wand, that was in the wrong hands."

"It wasn't your fault, Mr. Ollivander."

"No, it was not. Even so, it was a wand that I crafted myself."

Ollivander walked over to a nearby shelf and pulled out several boxes filled with wands, "But I'm sure you'll do many great things with your wand, Mr. Potter. Now try this one. Chestnut and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Stiff and firm. Wave it around a bit with your wand arm."

I waved the wand around in my right hand, which amounted to nothing. I wasn't worried though, since I knew which wand I was getting.

"That won't do. Try this one. Hazel and dragon heartstring. Eight and a half inches. Very flexible."

Again, nothing came out of the wand that the wandmaker picked out.

"Hmm ... how about this one? Hawthorn and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Powerful, yet elastic."

I took the wand from him and immediately felt a rush of magic explode out of the wand. The sight was absolutely breathtaking, with golden and silver fireworks shooting out the wand. I looked at the grey piece of wood with a mix of shock and confusion.

"A Hawthorn wand. Peculiar indeed, Mr. Potter. Hawthorn wands are hardly used by beginners in magic. They are extremely volatile and difficult to master. Yet it has chosen you." His eyes rested on a certain wand that remained in one of the opened boxes. "Hawthorn represents emotional turmoil, a sudden shift in one's life. Hawthorn wands are heavily influenced by an individual's emotional state. I assume that your future is not as easy as you imagine it to be."

My body went rigid as I digested his words. Did Ollivander suspect something? Did he notice something wrong with my personality or presence? Hell, did magic itself change the wand I was 'destined' to receive, which threw Ollivander into a loop?

The elderly man stared at me with his silvery eyes, "You will do great things with that wand, Mr. Potter. I am certain that you will fully master your wand in the future. As of now, it may not be an equal of the wand that gave you that scar. But one day, it will be."

With those parting words, I left the shop with Lisa in tow. I had a lot to think about.

AN: I'm surprised that you made it all the way down here! But if you did, welcome to my newest fanfic while I'm stuck in quarantine with the rest of my state.

My inspiration for this fic? Well... a lot of HP fanfics inspired me to write this fic. Some of them were positive inspirations, while some were negative. Admittedly, I started writing this fanfic because I wanted to write a fanfic with decent grammar (if you see grammatical mistakes, sue me), a decent plot, and original twists. Yes, the OC is aware of the plot of the Harry Potter books. However, there will be changes made due to his actions (the Butterfly Effect). And those changes will cause turmoil and chaos that will have massive effects across the world, both magical and "real." As I mentioned, there will be twists to the plot and answers to the questions created by this chapter. So hopefully, I won't bore you with the same ol' "he fixes everything and lives happily ever after."

And yes, the OC will make changes to the "real" world (aka Muggle world). The ramifications of his actions will be enormous, and maybe the American magical community will make an appearance later on...

It took me a good two weeks to write out this chapter. I changed certain scenes of the chapter dozens of times before I was even remotely satisfied. I'm still not completely satisfied with the result, but it's a work in progress. Hopefully, it'll get better as the story goes on (when the "snowball" effect kicks in).

Shoutout to Overkaer and GoofyGiraffes for beta reading this chapter. If you want to beta read for me, please send me a PM through the FF website or my Discord (okmangeez#8905). As always, criticisms and questions are encouraged. I will respond to any reviews of the story to the best of my abilities.

Thank you for reading! And stay safe out there! Make sure to wash your hands consistently and avoid crowding in public spaces!