Chapter 1

Harry woke to the insistent sound of a knuckle rapping on the front door of Number 4, Privet Drive. He blearily opened his eyes for a second, but shut them quickly again as morning sunlight streamed through thick metal air vents into his eyes.

He sat up slowly and observed his surroundings. He was in a small space with a tiny door right next to his right arm. It was dark, dusty and unwelcoming, but somehow familiar.

Where am I? Is this hell? It certainly isn't heaven.

With a start, he realised he was in a cupboard, and not just any cupboard - the cupboard under the stars where he lived up until his eleventh birthday before he got his Hogwarts letter.

His heart started racing, wondering how he had got here, until he heard one of the voices he wished he never had to hear again - his estranged Uncle Vernon's. 'Boy! Up! I expect breakfast on the table by the time I am down there!'

After a moment's pause in which Harry tried to gather his thoughts, he was interrupted again by his uncle's thunderous voice.

'And open the door for God's sake or we won't be feeding you for a week!'

If nobody else in the Dursley household was awake before, Harry had no doubt they were now.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to him.

Snape's death. The memories of what his whole life had been for - to be killed. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

The forest. Voldemort. The Killing Curse that he had taken to eliminate the horcrux inside him.

And Tonks.

Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears. His love. They had been dating since just after Dumbledore had died. He had been planning on asking the metamorphagus to marry him after the war, provided they had survived.

But now - killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, before his very eyes. He could almost taste the lingering feeling of his last kiss with her. Life didn't feel whole without her around.

He had screamed until his throat was raw. He knelt, slowly rocking back and forth over newly formed Bellatrix dust.

When the sky grew lighter and became a soft pink, his voice was gone. It almost felt like Fate was mocking him. How could the sky be so peaceful when he was like this?

All he felt was pain. He had three broken fingers from punching Bellatrix before he had simply vaporised her. Despite this, the only pain he could feel was in his heart. It was ten times worse than the Cruciatus Curse.

After hours and hours of sobbing into the hard stone floor of the third floor corridor in Hogwarts, he stood slowly. He had unfinished business to tend to. The pain in his heart was still there, but it was being overrode by something else. Pure rage.

His magic responded to his emotions and flared, creating a blood-red hue around him His vision became tinged with red due to his aura, and anger when he walked through the Great Hall.

So many bodies… He vowed to avenge them. People called to him, but Harry ignored them, his face an emotionless mask.

People must have realised not to approach him due to his aura, as he walked through the Great Hall and into the courtyard of the grounds unchallenged. He had only one goal in mind, and if anyone got in his way, they wouldn't be able to regret it.

His wand was clenched so tightly between his fingers that he drew blood, unknown to Harry. Nothing would stop him from his goal.

He had to remove the horcrux from inside him. To stop this war - so others could kill Voldemort. So others didn't have to endure the pain he did. If he died, so be it. He didn't want to live without Tonks. He couldn't live without Tonks.

He strode through the Forbidden Forest to where Voldemort said he would be waiting. He heard the first sign of Voldemort's camp before he saw them.

'…can you feel that? It's like… I can't describe it. It's coming from over this hill.'

'It feels like my magic is being overloaded - it must be something really powerful. Be on your guard.'

The voices had faintly British accents, but sounded foreign, like they had originally lived in a different country. Harry heard the crunch of boots on the underbrush of the forest on the other side of a large ridge in front of him. His aura flared again, stronger and brighter than before.

'…Did you feel that? Nothing could make an aura that powerful except our Lord! It must be coming from a deity!'

'Be quiet you fool! Are you daft? There are no such things as deities. The only immortal is our Dark Lord!'

'Maybe it is him! Maybe…'

Harry heard no more as rage rushed over him like a tsunami. He had never felt anything like it. He began to run. These people served Voldemort. Hell, they could have killed hundreds of people! They sided with Nym's killer…

He rushed over the ridge and found only two people in dark robes, wearing Death Eater masks. They nearly fell over at the sudden appearance of another person.

For the first time that day, Harry's face morphed into a smile that was anything but angelic. It promised pain and torture to its target. Harry's magic coursed through his veins, more powerful than he had ever felt it.

These people were just like Bellatrix - just like Voldemort. He spoke the first curse that came into his head. His voice was less than a whisper, but it carried immense power.

Crucio!'

Unlike he had ever seen before, Harry's phoenix feather wand produced two dark red streams of magic, each as thick as his forearm. They writhed through the air until reaching their targets, where they unleashed bouts of screaming on Harry's victims. His manic grin never subsided throughout the whole duration of the Cruciatus Curse.

Finally, after nearly two minutes, Harry drew his wand back and released Voldemort's servants from his torture.

'Incarcerous!

Stupefy!'

Less than a second after being released from their torture, the two Death Eaters were bound and unconscious. The time Harry had spent in the Room of Requirement during his sixth year had paid off.

He had originally not intended to begin training himself, but after discovering the prophecy and Voldemort's horcruxes, he had woken himself up from his laziness and realised just how much he would have to do to have a good chance to defend himself and his loved ones and defeat Voldemort in a duel.

Because of this, he had devoted a large portion of his free time to practising increasingly powerful spells and researching more of them in the Hogwarts library. He had become quite the formidable opponent in duels.

Leaving the two bound, Harry stepped over them and advanced towards his target, but not before spitting on each servant. He took great satisfaction in that.

After another few minutes of walking, Harry found himself looking into a large clearing in the dense undergrowth of the large forest.

Dry brown pine needles littered the ground, and in the centre, surrounded by dark-robed men and women, was Snakeface in all his pale and unearthly glory.

He seemed to be looking in the other direction to where Harry was, and all the other robed people were looking the other way with him, wisely maintaining a few metres' distance between themselves and the Dark Sociopath, probably due to some of his Killing-Curse-involving temper tantrums.

At this point, all traces of Harry's smile had been wiped from his face, and it was now back to a mask of calm, even though he felt his emotions bubbling and boiling just below the surface beneath it.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and held his head higher as he took his first step into the clearing. For Nym. For Mum & Dad. For everybody that this sneaky bitch had the gall to kill. As soon as Harry took his first step into the clearing, pine needles crunched under his feet, and hundreds of heads turned to face him, including Voldemort.

Harry's enemy for years looked at him, and his face cracked into an evil smile so wide Harry though his face might crack. He certainly doubted he had ever smiled that wide before.

'What do we have here? Potter finally decided to show his cowardly little face to us.'

Voldemort seemingly spat his enemy's name with as much contempt as he could fit into a word.

'I must admit, I never expected you to actually do it. I believed we would have to kill everyone in that little castle of yours to finally get you out. But this is a… pleasant surprise.'

He spoke with a high-pitched voice that sounded like sandpaper moving over stone. It was raspy and would have made Harry cringe if he hadn't been facing his mortal enemy.

Harry spoke with as much confidence he could muster.

'I am here to surrender myself so Hogwarts and its inhabitants can survive. I will let you…'

He grimaced,

'…kill me after you swear a magical oath to not kill anyone inside Hogwarts or damage the castle itself.'

Voldemort simply threw back his head and laughed. Soon his followers joined in with him. After a mere ten seconds, everybody in the clearing save for Harry was laughing. Voldemort apparently seemed to want to humour the boy standing defiantly before him.

'Of course, Harry. What are the terms of your agreement?'

He spoke with mirth evident in his tone, but it simply made him sound more like an extra-terrestrial animal that was unfamiliar with the way humans spoke.

'I want a magical oath. One that states that you, Voldemort, will not harm any of Hogwarts' inhabitants until tomorrow, when they can be evacuated. After that, the castle is yours.'

Harry knew this was a pointless offer, as there was nothing that would stop Voldemort from declining the oath, but apparently he thought wrong.

'Very well. Who shall oversee this oath?'

Suddenly Voldemort sounded strained when he admitted this, which was confusing for his opponent until he realised. Of course! If Voldemort declined my oath, then he would look weak in front of his followers! He has to accept! Harry nearly laughed, he felt truly happy for the first time in a long time, he realised. I can save them. Hermione, the Weasleys, everyone in Hogwarts can escape!

'I- I will.'

A voice came from inside the crowd of followers. Narcissa Malfoy emerged from the group and moved to stand in between the two enemies.

'This can be conducted from where you are standing, if you wish.'

Narcissa said when neither the Dark Lord or Harry moved closer to her, Harry still with his wand held up at Voldemort, and the man in question with his bone-white wand resting leisurely at his side.

'I simply need you to repeat after me, Potter: I, Harry James Potter, agree to the terms previously stated and will uphold them until this magical oath has been fulfilled on the eve of tomorrow.'

Harry repeated her words and a bright golden flash surrounded him for a moment as he agreed to the magically binding oath. Narcissa Malfoy then told Voldemort the words of his oath.

'I, Tom Marvolo Riddle agree to the terms previously stated and will uphold them until this magical oath has been fulfilled on the eve of tomorrow.'

Voldemort sneered as Narcissa stated his full name, but did not say anything. He repeated after her slowly, and a dark green flash surrounded him like it did Harry, except for the change of colour.

When the light faded, Harry found himself feeling no different, except now he was… Oh sweet mother of Morgana… He was now facing the business ends of about two hundred different wands - including Voldemort's. Strangely enough, Narcissa was yet to draw her own wand.

Voldemort spoke with a manic grin on his face, with nearly all of his present followers doing the same.

'This moment has been denied from me for too long, but now… the saviour of the wizarding world,'

The snake-like man spat,

'will meet his… tragic death. But first - Potter, how daft can you be to think I would simply agree to stop my attack on Hogwarts and swear a magical oath with my enemy?'

He laughed, and Harry's stomach dropped all the way to Hell and kept going.

'While I cannot attack your foolish school, have you forgotten about my followers, or are you just daft?'

He threw back his head and Harry's stomach disappeared from Hell and probably went as far to reach whatever land Voldemort probably originated from instead.

'I wish we could have met on better terms, Potter, but unfortunately - only one of us can rule the world.'

Harry felt the words coming out of Voldemort's mouth before he heard them.

'Avada Kedavra!'

The next thing he knew he was interrupted from trying to make sense of his current life by the insistent tapping against the kitchen window, which sounds weirdly familiar somehow, he thought. As he wiped at the tears in his eyes that were dangerously close to falling, he was interrupted again.

'Boy! I warned you!'

Suddenly a great noise like an elephant had decided to start tap-dancing came from above him. Dust began to rain from the underside of the stairs and landed on Harry, making him choke for clean air.

The next thing he knew, he was grabbed roughly on his arm by a large, beefy hand, dragged out of his cupboard and thrown against the wall on the other side of the corridor. From his time at the Dursley's home, Harry had learned to read how angry Uncle Vernon was by the shade of his face. At the moment, it was a deep mauve, but his uncle seemed to nearly be frothing at the mouth, so Harry knew that he was in the early stages of a full-blown rage.

Vernon stood in front of Harry, completely blocking him from seeing anything else with his walrus-like size. His fists were clenched, he was trembling, and his face was quickly progressing from mauve to magenta. Oh yes, the younger person in the hallway thought, this is quite a grump he is in. He supposed he should have been scared, but after staring down beasts that would make Mad-Eye Moody soil his robes and peg-leg, and facing Voldemort so many times he had begun to lose count, Harry felt nothing more than a little nervous.

Quickly he looked down, sure to avoid eye-contact, as that always aggravated his uncle even more, he studied his hands, but quickly realised something was off. When had his hands been so small? The palms looked to be no bigger than two inches across, and his index fingers couldn't have been more than two inches long each. Why are my hands so small? Come to think of it, why is Vernon so much larger than I remember him? Also- Harry's train of thought was cut off as he received a backhand to the face.

His uncle roared, spittle flying onto Harry's face, 'When I tell you to do something, you will do it. Breakfast. Now!'

Vernon pointed to the kitchen, sausage fingers trembling, and face quickly advancing in colour from magenta to a deep plum.

Harry was used to this abuse from his relatives and complied simply to avoid conflict, as it seemed he wouldn't be able to fight against his uncle's will without retribution in his strangely smaller body. He walked through the hallway and into the kitchen quickly enough that his uncle wouldn't berate him for it, but slow enough that he would have as much time as possible to contemplate this new development.

He looked at his hands and feet, and they still had scars that he had got before Hogwarts. The scars Madam Pomfrey had healed in the hospital wing in my first year. Harry realised for sure now that he was definitely much smaller than he used to be before being hit my Voldemort's killing curse. He turned down the corridor and entered the Dursley's kitchen, grabbing bacon, eggs and kippers from the fridge, and noting how much more difficult it was to pull the fridge door open.

He arranged the meal on a large frying pan, and turned the heat on the stove on. As he looked up, he saw his reflection in the small window over the kitchen sink. His face was small, round and unblemished apart from the lighting bolt scar he was given by Voldemort. The strangest thing was that his scar was much lighter than it used to be. When he was in his previous body, his scar would always be dark and would sometimes even bleed when he had extreme visions. However now, the scar was much lighter, being near invisible unless someone looked closer to it. But that wasn't the only thing. He was also at least half a metre shorter than he was the last time he came here, when he was sixteen. Harry concluded that he must have been around ten years old. But how? This must be Hell, if I am still with the Dursleys. But- what was that show that Hermione kept raving about and eventually convinced me to watch at the end of Fourth Year on a projector on the Hogwarts Express? Back To The… The… Future? Yes, that was it! Could I have been transferred to the past when I was hit by Voldemort's killing curse?

Harry was about to ask his bloated uncle the date when he realised that if we truly was in the past, he would have never asked something like that, and if he changed the past it would change his future. Better to be safe in case I actually am in the past, disregarding how insane that sounds.

However, another part of his mind thought about the benefits of what had potentially happened to him. I could stop Dumbledore's meddling in my life and all his 'Greater Good' shite! Anyway, if I am living seven years of my life again, already with all my spell knowledge, I could really have some fun - and I certainly won't be staying at the Dursleys for any longer after I leave to go to Hogwarts, if I have been transported to before I began. Suddenly his mind reeled at another revelation.

Tonks.

If I'm back in time, Tonks is alive again! Suddenly this thing looks a heck of a lot more appealing. Harry nearly jumped for joy at this, but restrained himself to smiling the most he had in probably his whole lifetime, apart from when he was around his love. He was so happy and his heart began beating so fast that it began to ache with happiness. Suddenly his uncle appeared in the doorframe and his face, nearly as purple as an eggplant by this point, reminded Harry what he was supposed to be doing.

He quickly rushed out of the kitchen and through the hallway to the door to avoid any more berating from his uncle. Harry knew he would normally be able to defend himself from his uncle, but he wasn't so sure about that in his small new body. The knocking had subsided by now, and he found himself opening the dark oak door and cautiously peeking out through a small crack. After all, if Mad-Eye Moody had taught him one thing from all his time at Grimmauld Place, it was to always be on your toes and be vigilant.

Harry found himself looking down at the front doormat of 4 Privet Drive and saw a newspaper - a Muggle newspaper that was dated as the thirty-first of July, 1990.

Of course Fate would do something like this to him - transfer him back to the exact date one year earlier that he found out about the wizarding world and Hogwarts. He also realised that it was his tenth birthday.

However this just confirmed it for Harry - he was back in time, in his ten year-old body. Voldemort hadn't been resurrected yet, Nym was alive, hell, Sirius, his godfather was alive too. This caused another wave of happiness to rush through him - he could save his godfather's life. He had the chance to physically rewrite history.

He picked up the newspaper, straightened up, and walked back inside his relatives' home with a new glint of determination in his emerald-green eyes an eleven year-old should never have. He had a purpose now. He would train, he knew the prophecy concerning him and Voldemort, and he would save all the lives possible - except Dumbledore's. That manipulative old coot could fend for himself.

-=-=

Harry found himself cleaning the Dursley family's dirty plates in the sink, his newly small body requiring a stool to step on and reach the sink. If this had happened previously during his stays with the Dursleys, it would usually result in him internally fuming to himself, but today was different. His mind was too overtaken by the new concept he had found himself in - time travel. He knew he had to be prepared for his returning to Hogwarts, but he didn't want anyone to find out about who he was and his life before he travelled back in time to 'present day.'

The only way he could think of protecting this was throughly Occlumency. In his previous life, he had read a book on the subject, and it was very different to the description Professor Snape had given him.

Snape had simply told him to clear his mind, however according to the book Harry had found, that was the simplest and most basic explanation of the mind art. Snape's Occlumency 'lessons' were anything but beneficial to Harry, and may have even left him more vulnerable to mind attacks from Voldemort.

If Harry's potions professor hadn't mentally tortured him, he may not have been so vulnerable to the attack that led him on his ill-fated Department of Mysteries rescue attempt to save his godfather, Sirius Black.

While scrubbing a particularly dirty dish in the sink, no doubt Dudley's, Harry resolved to learn the mind art so he could protect himself properly from his enemies, Voldemort and Snape alike. He was also sure that the way Professor Snape had trained him, by using another thing he had read about in his book about the mind arts, Legilimency, would also be a useful strength, if he could learn it.

This brought him to another issue. Supplies. He would need things to help him grow stronger. He would buy books, training equipment to help his physical strength, and he could even buy a wand - it would just take some explaining to Hagrid when he wouldn't need to purchase a new wand on his eleventh birthday.

This meant that he would have to go to Diagon Alley to buy things. If he did this, he would need a form of transport and a disguise. Even as a ten year-old, Harry Potter would have still been recognised.

The former would be hard to deal with, however the latter would be easily solved. He could wear a large hat to cover his newly-lightened scar, and he was sure that that was all he would need as a disguise unless he saw someone like Albus Dumbledore in the alley, which was highly unlikely.

As for transport to Diagon Alley, he would have to become inventive. He couldn't apparate on such short notice without a wand - he had read in a book in the Hogwarts library that wandless magic took months for some of the most powerful wizards to master even the simplest of spells, and Harry had just over a a year before he would be going to Hogwarts. He did believe however, wandless magic and apparating would be something to look into later.

Harry also couldn't take the Knight Bus, as he would need a wand to call it, and it would no doubt be suspicious if a ten year old called the bus without an adult accompanying them at all. His only other option was the Floo Network, but he knew the Dursleys' fireplace wasn't connected to it, due to the Weasley's visit at the beginning of his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Harry was interrupted from his musings by his cousin Dudley, who had been surprisingly quiet up until then.

'Hey, freak! You have to come to the park today to play with me and Piers, mummy said so!'

Harry turned around, having finished washing the dishes, and faced Dudley, who was wearing a piggy sneer. He knew that Harry couldn't say no, or he would be beaten by Vernon. Harry had been through all this before, and whenever Dudley made him come to the park, he would simply get kicked and beaten anyway. At least it would probably be better than being stuck at Privet Drive with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who wasn't working at Grunnings because it was a Saturday.

Harry composed himself before speaking. Inside he was furious with how he was being treated by his own relatives, but he thought he would be able to to fight back, even in his ten year-old body the only thing Dudley held over him was his size. 'Yes Dudley.'

Dudley had clearly been expecting more resistance, as he had a very surprised expression on his face, which Harry took some satisfaction from. He had no delusions that his relatives would be treating him better than his past time at the Dursleys.

Harry hopped down off the stool he had been using to wash the dishes and walked back to his cupboard, instinctively dropping his head when he walked past Dudley and his uncle, hoping to avoid confrontation. However, he internally reprimanded himself.

I won't bow down to these idiots any longer. I might be small, but I don't care. They won't treat me like a house elf anymore.

He opened the small door to the cupboard under the stairs and sat down. Until he could find a way to get supplies and a new wand, he would have to find a way to defend himself. He would have to be able to do this physically and magically.

Harry would have to learn wandless magic. He didn't have any books to help him, but he hoped he wouldn't need any. He began with the simplest spell he could think of. One of the first he was taught at Hogwarts.

Harry held out his open palm face up, and exclaimed quietly but forcefully,

'Lumos!'

Nothing happened that Harry could see, but he felt his magic coursing through his veins, waiting to be released. His whole body tingled from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, but it couldn't be released, and the feeling only increased the more he focused. Eventually it began to get painful, and Harry lost his concentration as the pain increased. Immediately the pain stopped, but the tingling feeling in his veins was still present. Harry could feel the magic within his body. It moved and shifted through him.

And then suddenly it was gone.

Harry could still feel a faint comfortable tickling in his veins, but nothing as extreme as it had been previously. His first attempt at wandless magic was a failure, but he had resolved to learn it and he would keep going until he did. The strangest thing was that he didn't feel drained at all. Wandless magic was supposed to be extremely draining to one's magic, but Harry still felt like his magic reserves were at full capacity.

He attempted the wandless lumos spell again. This time, the tingle in his veins was lower than before, but was still there. Harry concentrated on the spell he was trying to perform with his palm open and outstretched, and visualised the light he was trying to create. A small pinprick-sized light flickered to life , hovering over his palm for a moment, but disappeared just as fast.

Progress.

Harry continued attempting to create a wandless light in his hand, and after around an hour he was able to produce a pea-sized light for nearly two seconds before it faded away. As he was about to say the incantation, he was interrupted by Dudley banging on the cupboard door.

'Hey freak! Mummy says you have to come and play with me and Piers now.'

Harry opened the cupboard door and saw Dudley's piggy eyes staring back at him. He knew he probably should have been nervous, as he knew Dudley only wanted him to come so he could get beaten up, but he wasn't. Harry brushed past his walrus-sized relative and walked ahead of Dudley to the front door, which he immediately regretted, as Dudley stuck a foot out just in front of him and tripped him. He fell to the ground and was kicked in the ribs once before his cousin walked out the door ahead of him with a piggy grin plastered on his face.

Harry scolded himself, constant vigilance. If anyone has to remember that, it's me.

He made sure Dudley wasn't lurking anywhere near him, waiting. When he was sure he wasn't, Harry quickly picked himself up off the floor and made his way past the living room where his uncle was shouting at the television, and out the plain white door of 4 Privet Drive. He stepped onto the pathway traversing through Aunt Petunia's boringly pristine garden.

'Hurry. Dudley is waiting for you.'

Harry's aunt hardly ever called him freak, but she always had a frosty demeanour towards him. Harry sped past without acknowledgment from either person, and began the dreaded walk from his relatives' house to the park at the end of Little Whinging.

When Harry arrived at the park a shorter time than he would have liked later, Dudley and Piers were waiting for him. Piers was a short, skinny boy with messy brown hair. They were sitting on two of the rusting swings at the end of the park, and they both sported sinister grins. Harry was immediately on edge. Dudley was the first to speak.

'Hey freak! Piers got a new toy and he wants to try it out.'

Piers and Dudley both got off their swings and started stalking towards Harry. He stood tall and faced them.

'Ooh, look who finally got some balls, Big D.'

Piers spoke, still walking towards Harry. Dudley started laughing.

'A bit too late for that, isn't it freak.' Dudley spat. Piers reached into his pocket and flicked out a pocketknife, handing it to Dudley. Harry started backing away. He had nothing to defend himself with. If only Dudley had confronted him, Harry would have been able to outrun him, but Piers was just as fast as Harry, so running wasn't an option.

The only thing Harry could think of was magic. But without a wand, he wasn't able to do any, except for produce a small light. Dudley flipped the knife in his hand so it would be able to stab forwards.

Harry didn't have any other options. He held out his right hand, palm open, but this time he faced his hand towards Dudley, concentration etched into his face. He thought of Tonks, thought of the anger rushing through him when he saw Bellatrix Lestrange, and what he would do to her. Magic started rushing through his veins again, but this time it was stronger, sharper. Harry put as much effort into his magic as he could, and spoke.

'Incarcerous!'

Nothing happened. Dudley kept advancing towards him, now laughing.

'That the best you could do? Trying to magic me away with your hand?'

Harry could feel his cousin's hot breath on his face. He closed his eyes as he saw Dudley raise the blade with Piers goading him on.

Suddenly he felt a pain like a red hot iron in his side. He reached down and clamped over the area with his hands. This on succeeded in burying the already present knife blade deeper in his body. He screamed. The pain he felt was less than the Cruciatus Curse that he had endured multiple times, but the Cruciatus Curse simply fired all of your nerve endings. Afterwards, there were no serious physical side-effects unless you were held under the curse for long periods of time. Because Harry knew this was a physical injury, it made it nearly as bad as the Cruciatus.

Nearly.

Harry had endured far worse pain than this, and he knew it. He stood up shakily from the kneeling position he didn't know he had fallen into, and watched Dudley running away with Piers.

Harry looked down at his stomach and saw the blade protruding from it. Blood was gushing from a deep wound, still with the knife stuck in it.

He stumbled forward towards Privet Drive, but he knew it was useless. He wouldn't make it. His vision began to darken. He was leaving a thick trail of dark red blood behind him, and Harry knew that if he couldn't stop the blood flow soon, he would die from blood loss.

He stumbled on the bitumen of Privet Drive and landed heavily on the road. The last thing he remembered was a strangely familiar voice screaming out and another shouting the spell he had just attempted to stop Dudley with.

'Incarcerous!'

A/N: sorry I just had to end it on a cliffhanger. Anyways, hi guys! This is my first attempt at writing a HP fanfic story, so hopefully I can live up to your expectations! New chapter should be coming soon but in the meantime - please read, review and favourite! Every single review and favourite means a huge amount to me - and they also motivate me to post new chapters sooner ;)

Hope you enjoy the story so far. I'm hoping that this will become one of the longer stories on this site, but it may take some time (real life has priority), so please be patient!

iamau