Christmas Eve
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Dumbledore accompanied Harry through the night's darkness and across the lake to the edge of the school grounds. In his haste to reassure the Headmaster that he could take care of everything, Harry had completely forgotten that it was impossible to Apparate from inside Hogwarts.
"Maybe I should read Hogwarts: A History," thought Harry ruefully, stepping out of the little rowboat and on to dry land again. Dumbledore followed at a slightly more sedate pace and brushed off his robes. Using a large purple handkerchief, he drew an old muggle soda bottle out of the depths of his pocket and handed it to Harry with a concerned glance.
"Take the portkey so you can bring him back along with you. You do have a Time Turner, Harry, so I will expect you back not more than a second or two after you leave. And I want you standing right here, not anywhere else. You have to be very cautious."
"I'll be right back," promised Harry. "And I won't come back anywhere else."
"And you're not to let the Muggles see you," Dumbledore continued, still looking worried.
"I won't, Professor. I'll be very careful."
"It is possible that as soon as you see yourself, your memories will re-arrange themselves," cautioned Dumbledore. "Don't worry about that, just concentrate on the present – that is, the moment you're living in."
"I don't remember all that much from when I was five, Professor, although being locked in the cupboard on Christmas stands out in my mind. I'm sure I'll be fine."
Dumbledore didn't look any happier. "Harry, I'm not at all sure this is a good idea…"
"Too late now, Professor, I've already bought myself some Christmas presents." Harry tried to be flippant, but Dumbledore could see the young man was afraid his headmaster would change his mind. "I owled Hermione with some money and a list a week ago."
"Harry…" Dumbledore began, intending to tell the boy that changing the past was not a good idea after all. What if Harry got it into his head to warn his parents of their coming deaths, for instance, and Voldemort was never killed? He opened his mouth to say no, Harry shouldn't leave. But Harry seemed to read his thoughts.
"It's all right," Harry said softly, trying to swallow his disappointment. "I know you well enough to know that if you think I shouldn't…I mean, I've lived with my memories for all these years. I'll…I can…"
Guilt overrode Albus' better judgment once again. "You can hurry up and go, and be back before I start to worry," Dumbledore announced firmly.
Smiling joyously, Harry took out his wand, and with a swish and a happy flick he Apparated into the Dursleys' back yard.
Apparating always made Harry just a bit dizzy and nauseated, as if his stomach had been left miles away and had to catch up after the rest of him. Even so, he made sure to look around right away and ascertain that he had appeared where he intended to, in the shadows behind a large lilac bush, before he crept carefully to the back door. There were no lights on in the house.
He lifted up the mat and took up the house key that had been placed there the summer Dudley turned thirteen, shortly after he had locked himself out of his house for the fifth time. Then Harry took out the Time Turner and flipped it over.
There was a rushing sound and a flash of light, and Harry found himself on his knees. Harry couldn't believe Hermione had done this every day; he felt like he was going to throw up or faint, or both, but he wasn't far enough back yet.
When he had counted out twelve turns, he stood up and took a few deep breaths. The lilac bush he had hidden behind earlier was now only up to his waist, so the Time Turner had evidently done its work. He stepped back and took a careful look at the Dursley household. No lights. Everyone had gone up to bed, thank goodness.
Carefully, Harry fitted his key into the lock and quietly entered the house by way of the kitchen. As he made his way toward the stairs, he became aware of a snuffling, sobbing sound.
"Harry!" Boomed a voice from the second floor. Harry froze. How had Uncle Vernon heard him? He thought he had been so careful. "You stop that sniveling or I'll give you something to really cry about! Dudley is trying to sleep!"
Abruptly, the snuffling sound from the stairs muted, without really stopping. Harry guessed that the child under the stairs had stuffed his pillow in his mouth to stop himself from making noise, knowing his uncle wouldn't make an idle threat.
Harry remembered that trick, although he hadn't remembered using it that particular night.
He waited for a long moment, and then crept forward again. When he reached the cupboard, he pulled out his wand and held it aloft. "Lumos," he whispered, and a soft light bloomed forth. Very softly, so as not to scare the child or wake his aunt and uncle, he tapped on the door and called to his younger self.
"Harry?" He said. "Don't be afraid, and be very quiet. We don't want to wake anyone. You don't know me, but I'm going to open the cupboard door for you. Hang on just a moment."
Slowly, Harry drew back the bolt on the cupboard and opened the door. A pair of apprehensive, red-rimmed green eyes stared at him over a dirty pillow.
"Hi," Harry said to the pair of eyes. I'm Luke Skywalker; I'm here to rescue you, he wanted to continue. Instead he went on, "I'm one of your mother's relatives, Harry." Seeing confusion, he clarified. "Part of your mother's family. Your aunt and uncle aren't planning on letting you out of there for Christmas. Not so good, huh? So I thought maybe you and I could go have our own holiday tomorrow. I'll get you back here before anyone knows you're even gone." Harry had been practicing all week exactly what he would say, determined to be as truthful as he possibly could, while not knowing if it would be enough of an explanation for even a five-year-old.
"You're my mummy's other family?" Asked Small Harry, slowly lowering the pillow from his face.
"That's right. My name is Harry, too. Just like yours." Harry prayed that he was right about himself. He remembered desperately wishing, especially when he was young, that some day his mummy would come (she wasn't dead, it was all a mistake), or even some unknown relative, and the person would take him away.
Harry was hoping that the fantasy would give the boy a little nudge towards trusting him.
Small Harry stared out of the cupboard for several seconds, and then shrugged philosophically. "I'm not 'apposed to talk to strangers. But I think nobody's as mean as Uncle Vernon." He looked thoughtful a moment. "Do you have a Christmas tree?"
"A big one," assured Older Harry. "And it's real, not plastic." As the Dursleys' had been every year. "And it has presents under it for you."
The little boy scrambled off his cot and out of the cupboard immediately. "Let's go!" He exclaimed, forgetting for a moment the need for quiet.
"Shh." Harry automatically put his finger over his lips. Even though he knew exactly why it had happened, he was appalled at the little boy trusting a stranger so quickly. Heaven forbid Voldemort should ever try and coax him away from his aunt and uncle with a Chocolate frog!
But then, thought Harry reasonably, if that had already happened I'd remember. Dumbledore must've placed some strong protection spells around the Dursley home, though; it was the only explanation for why Harry was still safe.
The older boy took the hand of the younger one, and together they left the house. Once outside, Harry knelt before the little boy.
"Do you believe in magic, Harry?" Older Harry asked.
Small Harry was horrified. "Shhhhh! That's a bad word." The little boy looked frantically left and right, as if even now Uncle Vernon might be lurking in the tulip garden.
Harry smiled. "Magic is not a bad word. And it's real; in fact, that's how we're going to get back to where I live. Won't that be fun? Here, hold on to me." He drew the little boy to him, and was delighted when, after a moment's hesitation, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. He adjusted the time turner carefully before flipping it again.
This time Harry's older self was prepared for the light and noise, but his younger self was not. As he continued to turn the hourglass the little boy let out a screech of fear, and a light went on in the Dursley household just as Harry was able to grab for the portkey. Without any warning to the little boy he quickly placed the hand of the younger version of himself and his own on top of the Coke bottle and prayed for the portkey to hurry up.
In less than a second, the pair was at the edge of the lake. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he saw himself, a few feet away, Apparating off the grounds. He wasn't late - in fact he must've come back a few seconds early.
"Whoops," Harry said to Dumbledore, and had the pleasure of seeing the headmaster jump into the air in surprise as he whirled around.
"Goodness, Harry, you startled – oh, my. So this is the little boy you were so anxious to see, eh? He looks a little nervous."
Harry became aware that the little boy in his arms was clinging tightly to him, and was shivering slightly. The little shuddery breaths sounded dangerously close to tears.
"Harry?" the older Harry said as gently as he could. "Open your eyes, now. It's all right. It's all over. No more jumping around. I guess that was a little scary, wasn't it? I'm sorry; I should have told you before we started…" He rubbed the little boy's back softly, trying to think of something to distract him. "Look over there, Harry. Do you see that castle? Have you ever seen such a big castle before?"
As Harry expected, the statement intrigued his younger self, and the arms loosened as the little boy looked up. There was a gasp.
"You were telling the truth!" The five-year-old said with astonishment. "It was magic! And there is a castle! And…and…I must really have Christmas presents this year!"
Harry-the-Elder grinned at Dumbledore.
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"When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away…" - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's (Philosopher's) stone, Chapter 2.