The First Chapter

Guess who went to bed with the perfect life last night and woke up this morning in his cupboard thirty years in the past? That's right, this guy.

For those who don't know me, I suppose an introduction is in order. Although, I don't know how you could not know me, but maybe you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque? My name is Harry Potter. Boy-Who-Lived. Chosen One. Master of Death. Defeater of Dark Lords. Slayer of Basilisks. Dismemberer of Dementors. Not even sure if Dismemberer is even a real word, but whatevers. Delight of women. Scourge of men. Seven time Winner of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award, suck it Gilderoy. And a bunch of other things.

I'm here in my cupboard. Judging by my body and the situation, I would put myself around ten or so years old, going on eleven years old.

Vernon Dursley longed to live a normal life with a normal wife. So naturally, he decided to put his nephew in a cupboard underneath the stairs, along with the cleaning supplies and all of the fumes. That makes perfect sense doesn't it? Especially given the fact that combining some of these chemicals with a spark of magic could cause a massive explosion which will level the entire neigborhood.

The fact I'm coming to that conclusion right now, it's concerning and the fact I'm considering doing it should be even more concerning to everyone involved.

So, apparently I went back to my younger body. I suppose I could let things play out and not disrupt the time stream too much. Best not to rock the boat too much.

Zzz, boring. If I must go back to this period of life, then I'm going to do things more interestingly. And let's get back to that explosion for a minute. I believe if I channel my magic just about right I should be able to blow the cupboard door off of it's hinges and take my first step to freedom.

If I channel it wrong, this is going to be a very short return to the past indeed.

Boom, there went the cupboard door. It flew into the hallway and smashed and I stepped out into the light. Those burn marks on the wall will cause Petunia to have a fit. I approve of everything I've done so far.

"BOY, WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU DOING?"

It occurred to me just now that Vernon might have noticed the loud crash outside of the hallway and the minature explosion. Vernon stampeded out into the hallway.

"You….you…you…."

"Kneel."

It took every fiber of my self control not to add the words "before Zod" at the end of that sentence. Vernon's legs folded to a kneeling position, despite his efforts before me. I realized that my small body might not be able to handle performing much magic, at least not this quickly.

"What the devil did you do to me, Freak?"

"Silence," I told him. "I want you to listen to me and listen to me good, you fat fuck."

Vernon did his best eggplant expression by turning purple. Petunia joined her husband in the hallway and looked shocked and appalled at what I just did to her husband. Dudley waddled out seconds later and looked gobsmacked at his father on the ground shaking like mad.

"You're hurting him!" Petunia yelled. "You and your…"

"How, am I hurting him, Auntie?" Harry asked with a sweet smile that would even make Umbridge shudder. "Tell me."

Petunia's mouth opened and shut. If I had just a little bit more strength in my body, I could really put the squeeze on Vernon. Making the lights flicker and the windows shake was simple enough magic and it was a good palor trick to scare the shit out of the superticious and the cowardly.

"You're being a freak," Petunia said. "Just like her."

"Like who?"

"Your mother!" Petunia snapped.

"Though you said she was a drunk whore who died in a car crash, Auntie?"

How an eleven on a scale of one to ten like Lily Evans could be related to a horse-faced, banana nosed bitch like Petunia remained one of life's greatest mysteries.

"Petunia, don't…tell him anything," Vernon gasped. "We swore…we would…."

I relaxed a little bit. Vernon could not rise so soon although I am sure he would have liked to strangle him. And I would have liked to burn the fat fuck to a crisp.

"You wouldn't be lying, would you?" I asked. "Oh, you would, wouldn't you? Tell me lies about how my parents died. Tell me lies about how I had this scar. You wouldn't know about the Dark Lord who killed them and tried to kill me, would you? I don't like lying."

"Please, stop," Dudley whimpered.

"What are you doing to Dudley?"

"No more than you're doing to him," I responded.

This confused Petunia. Watching her rack her brain to try and figure out what she did to her precious Duddykins amused me for a second. To be fair, Dudley was a victim of over indulgent parenting. At this time, he might have been a little shit, but that was the way Vernon and Petunia made him.

Still, maybe I could wake him up a little bit.

I dialed things back a couple of notches. The Dursleys looked terrified. No one accused Vernon Dursley of having the intelligence gifted to a common mule.

"Get out of our house!" Vernon managed through a ragged breath. 'I won't have you using your freak powers on my family."

"Oh, Vernon, after all of the hospitality you've given me, how could I ever want to leave?" I asked. "The nice and spacious cupboard, complete with cleaning supply fumes. The over large hand me downs, the scraps of food which is only the minimal amount to nourish me. Oh, how will I ever survive without all you've given me?"

"You won't last five minutes out there on your own, boy."

Idiot didn't even know sarcasm when it practically punched him in the face. Although, Vernon did raise a valid point in his own crude way. I was a ten year old wizard with limited resources. I didn't have access to my Gringotts vault at all, because Dumbledore had my key. Along with my Invisibility Cloak. I had to be careful with overtaxing my underdeveloped body as well. The only thing I had was my sharp tongue and that only got so far.

"You can't leave," Petunia breathed.

"Why, would you really miss my company, Auntie?"

"No, but…they won't let you," Petunia said. "We can't kick him out Vernon, not unless you want them here."

Vernon obviously did not want them here. Dumbledore, McGonagall, likely Snape. Oh, to be fair, I didn't want Snape here either. I wasn't certainly putting up with his shit this go around either. Or anyone else.

"He can't stay here!" Vernon argued. "He's…"

Normally, I would be amused at Vernon and Petunia arguing. Dudley looked horrified at his parents bickering. That meant their attention was not on him and he was not the center of their world. Poor baby.

It did allow me to think, and I got an idea. An insane idea. Which were the best kind of ideas.

"Kreacher!" I called out.

With a loud bang, Kreacher appeared. The bitter old house elf looked confused. Given Kreacher's filthy and unkempt state, Petunia looked about ready to faint and Vernon was a second away from having a stroke.

"Young master called Kreacher, but Kreacher doesn't understand why he was forced to obey Young master's orders," Kreacher said. "There is something weird about young master."

"Even that thing knows it," Vernon murmured.

"You are…young and yet old at the same time," Kreacher said. "Kreacher doesn't understand…"

"You will obey everything that I tell you, to the letter," I told him firmly. "Sirius made me his heir before he went to Azkaban, which means I'm next in line. And you have to do everything I say. It's your duty."

That reminds me, I likely should find a way to get Sirius out of Azkaban, along with snatching the rat and proving the world that Peter Pettigrew framed him for murder. I'll put that on the to do list.

"Yes…young master would be correct, the blood traitor convict brat did that," Kreacher murmured.

Vernon looked about to have another go at me. I decided if I had a house elf I might as well use it.

"Kreacher, kick this man in the balls."

It was unsettling how Kreacher's face contorted into a slasher smile from his grumpy look in an instant. Something really wrong with that elf.

I think we'll get on just fine.

"It would be an honor, sir."

With surprising strength, Kreacher punted Vernon straight between the legs. Vernon collapsed down and groaned. Petunia screamed in horror. Ah, testicle abuse, the lowest form of physical comedy. But, given the victim, it still put a smile on my face.

"Kreacher hopes to never have to work with such a small target again, young Master," the house elf said. "Although it was satisfying."

"It was indeed," I agreed. "Petunia, go get an ice pack for your husband."

Petunia walked off, shaking in terror. Namely because I had a house elf and I was not afraid to use him. Kreacher looked at me, as if to ask what would happen next.

"Can you access the Black family vaults?" I asked.

"Kreacher, can, sir," the house elf said. "Mistress gave me full authorization. As long as Kreacher greases the palms of those filthy goblins, they don't ask too many questions. Bunch of nasty little creatures, always obsessed their gold, the filthy hook nosed buggers."

Ah, casual racism from magical creature to magical creature. The true magic of magic. Silence occurred before Kreacher spoke again.

"Would young master Harry like to be leaving this place?" he asked.

"Not yet," I responded. "After all, I want to spend a bit more time bonding with my loving family."

Kreacher looked at me like I lost my mind. And to be fair, he could be onto something.

"Kreacher thinks young master has been spending too much time in the cupboard with all of those cleaning products."

Very likely true, although getting sent back in time from a happy ending to my unhappy childhood may have knocked whatever grip I had on sanity loose. I wrapped my arm around Petunia, who looked absolutely horrified. And I might have casually stepped on Vernon's crotch.

Accidentally.

On purpose.

A couple of times.

I found some paper and a pen and scrawled out a list of items for Kreacher to acquire. After all, I had a house elf. An unhinged one who was bitter, but he could be useful to acquire certain items. I was not about to do my own shopping.

"Do this for me and follow this to the letter," I told Kreacher. "And I'll help you with Regulus's locket."

Kreacher's mouth opened and he bowed. Getting rid of all of the Horcruxes was a priority of mine before Voldemort had a chance to return to life. Kreacher took the paper and disappeared with a pop. I turned to Dudley who backed off on terror.

Somehow my warm and friendly smile did not make Dudley feel any better.

"Dudley, help me move all of your rubbish out of your second bedroom," I said.

"Why?" Dudley asked.

"Because, I'm moving in, you dolt."

"You can't, I need that room," Dudley pouted.

"Well, let me put it this way," I said. "Either I move into your second bedroom, or Kreacher will be rooming with you in your main bedroom."

Oddly enough, this gave Dudley the motivation to relinquish his second bedroom to me. I should have kicked him out of his main bedroom, but to be honest, I'm not that cruel. Just mostly.

It was not luxury, but it will do, at least until I am in a position to make my next move. This allowed me some time to think, and ponder and plan. I would only be staying here until I went to Hogwarts and I will be damned if I am staying here another second longer.

There was a loophole where accidental magic was expected at a young age and until a witch or wizard formally accepted or denied their Hogwarts letter, or registered that they were accepting alternate means of magical education, they could not be charged with any unauthorized magic. Granted, the entire system to monitor magic was broken. Couldn't pick up who was doing the magic in a household of wizards. Couldn't distinguish house elf magic from human magic.

And one would think that if there were high quantities of accidental magic, highly charged emotionally, they would send someone out to make sure their relatives were not mistreating them. I suppose there are any number of sinister explanations for that.

Occam's razor indicated the Ministry was either incompetent or corrupt. Likely both.

"Kreacher has returned!"

Indeed he had, with the shopping I wanted. Namely clothes. No longer will clothes that once touched Dudley's body ever touch my body ever again. They would be burned naturally. I moved to change out into some of my new clothes.

"Kreacher, a moment if you will."

"Yes, young Master," Kreacher said. "Excellent suggestions, you must look the part if you wish to be any kind of respectable wizard. And given that you are the Boy-Who-Lived who vanquished the Dark Lord, you need to give them a reason to respect you, sir. If you don't mind Kreacher for saying."

"Not at all," I said. "I agree with you."

I changed into clothes which did not ever touch Dudley's body. The clothes were piled up to be disposed of. I looked at the books which Kreacher acquired for me. While my body would need to catch up a little bit to perform some of the magic, I had a feeling I could get a good grip on them.

"They are even charmed to prevent prying twinkling eyes from seeing what they truly are, just as you asked."

Yes, Dumbledore, he was a very complex man. To call him completely good would be a lie. To call him an evil manipulative bastard was not even the truth either. He did what he thought was best and the problem is, he was surrounded by too many yes-men and yes-women who would always celebrate the greatness that is Albus Dumbledore. That was a problem.

I am going to have to deal with Dumbledore. Eventually. But, I cannot keep my eye off of the ball. Even if I have many balls in the air. And I went from having a nice support network to having one very unhinged house elf as my only ally. So, it's a drastic drop on who I can realistically rely on.

That brought me to the friends I made at Hogwarts in my old timeline. Eleven, nearly twelve, and really, I can't come to a common ground with kids and their petty problems. I'm not sure if I can even handle befriending anyone close to my physical age currently. I suppose I should try and play nice with the little snots, but I don't think it's going to end that well.

And the older students, the ones which I might have a common ground to, are not going to have much to do with a snot nosed first year, even if he is a forty year old man trapped in a ten year olds body. Or forty trapped in eleven in about a week.

Speaking of which, I should be getting a certain letter pretty soon.

Still, this being in my younger body could cause a multiple of problems. Namely, I just went from having a very active and prolific sex life to not being able to logically have sex with anyone for a very long time. And that's doing wonders from my mood.

I am sorry, but I don't feel comfortable pursuing a relationship with someone who is underaged when I have the mentality of a much older man. And people who are overage likely have the same problem with me. Well many would, some would not and I just threw up in my mouth just a little bit just thinking of the kind of people who would not.

I'm certain at least one of them is a five-time winner of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award and is very proficient with memory charms. And suddenly, a grim reality of having a man who is a master of memory charms teaching in a school full of simpering pre-teen and teenage girls sets in. And a few boys to be honest. Looking at you Fletch-Flanagan or whatever your name is.

And before you start racing your keyboards to "actually" me, I know it's Finch-Fletchley. Calm your tits. You see, I'm fully aware that there are people on a higher plane of existence who are reading every single word I'm thinking. There's some weirdo transcribing this all now for you to read. And there are some of you, reading this without pants, and anticipating the smut that is to come.

Not for a long time if at all for the reasons I just talked about.

These are things that you think about when you spend way too much time hanging out with Luna Lovegood. You start thinking weird things. A nice girl, but she's like Alex Jones, only with better tits. And a nicer ass. Her adult self in the future, FBI glowies, not her current nine-year old self. We just had this conversation. No sex with underaged girls. Or sexualizing of them.

Besides, I have not had any of my major growth spurts just yet. But, we are getting off topic again. The truth is, Hogwarts might be a bit more of a challenge than I can think, due to interpersonal relationships being a problem.

Should try and not strangle the little shits. That might cause a problem if I kill them. Even if some of them have it coming.

Time to get some sleep. Although now I'm thinking about what the Butterbeer is doing to house elves. Damn it, Lovegood.

Damn it.

Shower thought for the day. I just realized that whatever sent me back through time just caused brain death to a ten year old boy when I took over his body.

Pleasant dreams.

Well, I got my Hogwarts letter. They say they await my owl. It's almost like Dumbledore expected the Dursleys to act irrationally in the old timeline and thus had to send Hagrid there.

I'm beginning to think some of those "Dumbledore is a manipulative old fart" bastards might be onto something. Just a little bit. Or he wanted to send Hagrid there to cause maximum chaos. Hell, Dumbledore could be the world's oldest and most powerful Internet shit poster. Only you know in real life, and with magic.

Which would raise my respect for the old man by several degrees. Big, if true.

The funny thing is, there's no owl. They did not leave one. I don't have one, yet. I'm not about to get one, yet. I suppose I could have Kreacher pop it over to the owl post office, and send it that way, but who the hell has time for that?

Plus, Hagrid showing up at the hut on the rock on the sea was amusing. This mountain of a man showing at Number Four Privet Drive would cause the gossip chain to explode with rumors and innuendo. It would make me break several ribs because of the lolz it would cause.

I think I'm going to get a little bit of the bubbly and watch the show.

Okay, I did not know the human face could turn that shade of purple. Not sure if that's healthy or not.

"Why don't you just answer one already, because you know what's going on?" Petunia asked.

"Well, I could, but these people don't seem to realize that for me to send them an owl, there has to be one here," I replied. "What do you want me to do, lasso one in the wild?"

Petunia had no comeback.

"You could tell that creature thing to deliver it?" Petunia asked as Vernon stamped on the floor.

The tantrum was glorious.

"Does Kreacher look like an owl?" the house elf asked. "The house faced Muggle woman seems confused. How does a woman this dumb be related to a woman as smart as Lily Evans."

"I've asked myself many times."

Vernon screamed as he destroyed the letters. If I was sending them, I would make them multiply every time Vernon tried to destroy one to really drive him mad. Kind of like Gringotts did with their security charms.

But alas, not in charge.

"No post on Sunday," Vernon said. "No letters today."

That's right Dursley, bend over and let Murphy take you straight in the ass. You even gave consent. Dubious consent, but consent. Click, click, boom.

The fireplace practically exploded. It was raining letters. And I grinned wickedly when I realized that the Dursleys were practically buried alive.

Vernon shot out of the letter pile and looked more purple than I've ever seen him before.

"WE'RE GOING AWAY! Pack some clothes, and be back in ten minutes."

"Nah, I'm good," I responded. "Besides, you won't get far on four flat tires."

"I don't have four flat tires!" the Walrus bellowed.

"Kreacher."

Kreacher savagely smiled. Vernon rushed to stop him but Kreacher disappeared. By the time Vernon made it outdoors, Kreacher did his dastardly damage.

Vernon Dursley screamed skyward at what that filthy creature Kreacher did to his beloved car. I think he might be on the verge of having a nervous breakdown.

I'd like to say I've adequately paid him back for ten years of hospitality.

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Uncle Vernon's going to have a stroke today. Happy birthday to me."

Petunia looked fearful at my big grin on my face.

"Why didn't you answer the letter?" Petunia asked.

"Because, I told you, they didn't leave an owl," I said.

Only told them this a dozen times.

"They're going to send someone here," Petunia said.

"They better not," Vernon said. "Not one of them will be in my house. It's bad enough that filthy creature is here."

"You're no prize yourself, Walrus," Kreacher said, not even bothering to mutter or shield his disdain for them.

Told Kreacher he should be more honest and open with his feelings. Thankfully, he's taking my advice to heart.

Petunia and Vernon looked more wound up then I've ever seen them. They were going to do something stupid. It was going to be a glorious sight.

"Vernon, maybe we should call child protective services…so they'll take the boy away. Maybe…we can admit what we've been doing."

Well, this took an interesting turn. Were they really this desperate to avoid contact with anyone magical?

"Call them on ourselves?" Vernon asked. "Are you mad, Petunia?"

Yes, as a hatter, I thought. And speaking of which, it was time.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one…and it's magic time!"

A loud bang knocked on the door. Kreacher decided to make himself scarce. Vernon and Petunia gazed at the door in abject horror. Another knock and I took pity on Vernon's front door.

"It's unlocked!" I sang.

Sure enough it was, and the door opened up, the very vast form of Rubeus Hagrid. Needless to say, he may have attracted a little attention showing up in the Stepford wives neighborhood. Where not one thing was out of place and everything was uniform.

"Quite the weather we're having? Not fit for man nor beast, eh?"

Yes, there's a storm brewing.

"Listen here, you can't do this…you're breaking and entering, and I…"

"Ah, stuff it Dursley, you great prune."

Very accurate considering the shade of purple Vernon was currently turning.

"And you must be Harry."

Let the real fun begin. As much as fucking with the Dursleys over the past couple of weeks amused him, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Hagrid beamed at me and Vernon looked about ready to achieve a brand new shade of purple.

It's magic time.

To Be Continued.