A/N: Hello again all. I do hope you found the prologue interesting. I'm hoping that this story is a little unique, as I've yet to see any fics that take this premise. I had meant to update yesterday, so as to keep to a twice-a-month update schedule, however, we had experienced weird issues with our internet last night. Regardless, here is the first complete chapter. Enjoy
Chapter 1- Getting Back
1995
Harry Potter laid on the rickety old bed, staring at the pale white ceiling above him. He was horribly bored, as all of his possessions were already packed away, awaiting the time that Professor Albus Dumbledore would be arriving to get him away from this overly muggle house. His mind drifted back over the summer, thinking back over the letters that were in now safely packed into his school trunk. Some from Hermione and Ron, his two best friends, one long and rambling, one short and to the point, both saying the same thing - that they couldn't say more until Harry was away from the Dursely's. Ron's letter was the short one, but he didn't need too many words to get his points across. Harry smiled as he thought about how quickly Ron managed to get across his three points; Hope you're safe, see you soon, and look at the Cannon's new chaser play. Hermione's letters were much, much, longer. She touched on everything from how she was reviewing the last three year's work, to psychological tips she had read to help him cope with Cedric (nothing overly obvious, of course, she seemed to think he wouldn't understand why she mentioned several things as hobbies that people with PTSD typically took up to help cope.), to the latest paper in Potions Monthly, to asking about his summer, to their N.E.W.T.s, and several other things, all fast enough that Harry's head was left spinning after reading it all. He grinned fondly just thinking of how he must've spent less time on his Herbology essay than trying to read Hermione's eight page letter.
Harry sighed, looking over at the alarm clock next to his bed. 4:30 p.m. Two and a half hours until Dumbledore was supposed to arrive to collect him. Harry pulled himself out of the bed, meandering over to the door to his room, considering a journey to the local park. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he quietly made his way past the entrance to the living room, and out the door. Whistling to himself as he strolled down the streets, Harry took note of the uncharacteristically cold weather that afternoon, glad he had pulled on a long sleeve shirt before he had left, but pushed it from his mind as he mounted one of the swings. He sat there for a while, thoughts drifting from subject to subject, simply taking in the peace, until Dudley and his gang arrived. Harry could hear them a while off, shouting swear words and violent phrases at each other and any kids younger or smaller than them that so happened to walk past. Harry gently swung back and forth, watching them slowly grow closer, until they noticed him.
"Oh, if it isn't little Harry-kins, out and about. Still thinking about your boyfriend, Potter? What's his name again? Oh, Cedric, that's right! God, I can barely sleep with all your moaning for Cedric, Potter." Dudley sneered as he talked, his gang laughing behind him. Harry set his jaw, knuckles turning white as he grasped the chains of the swing.
"I'll bet you miss your little boyfriend at night, don't you, Potter? Probably thinking about all of the times he's buggered you, the bloody fa-" Harry's fist connected with Dudley's face in an instant as he flew off of the swing at the larger boy. The thugs behind Dudley froze with shock for a second, before beginning to surge towards the cousins. Harry's wand spun out of his sleeve and into his hand, quickly being placed at the large boy's throat, hidden behind his mass so that his thuggish friends couldn't see it. Dudley raised his hand out, stopping them in their place.
"Don't insult Cedric Diggory in front of me, 'Big D'. Call off your friends, it's about time for me to leave anyway."
"Piers, take the fellas back to that fish and chips joint, I'll meet you there. Let me just, 'walk Potter home.' I'll be there in a few." Piers Polkiss nodded at Dudley, leading the rest of their gang off in the direction they had come. Harry flicked his wand back into his sleeve, before beginning to walk back in the direction of Privet Drive. Dudley waited a moment before following Harry back towards the house.
Dudley's fist meeting the back of his head was not what Harry expected when he heard footsteps behind him. He staggered forward for a second, only for a shove to propel him the rest of the way to the ground. He heard a quiet crack, as the left lens of his glasses shattered on the pavement. Flipping quickly, Harry dodged out of the way of the stomp that had been aiming for him. Harry pushed himself up into a crouch as Dudley reared back for another punch, trying to get himself some space. As Dudley's fist came flying at him, Harry suddenly felt an unfortunately familiar feeling, one of coldness and despair.
"Dudley, sto-" Dudley's fist met the side of his face this time. The feeling Harry recognized as the Dementor's aura slowly grew stronger.
"Screw you, freak! Trying to humiliate me in front of the boys, were you? And now you try to use your freak witchcraft to scare me? It won't work!" His fists began flying towards Harry faster, fear making his voice crack. Harry stumbled backwards, urgently grasping up his sleeve in search of his wand. Finding nothing, panic began to join the despair, and Harry wildly swung his head around, trying to spot his wand through the one good lens of his glasses. There! Harry's wand was laying on the pavement, only a few meters away. However, a good portion of those few meters was occupied by the wild-eyed Dudley, still throwing punches.
"Stop trying to run, Freak! I'm going to make sure that you know your place in the world, once and for all!" Dudley's right fist rocketed towards him, just a bit slower than the other punches, so Harry attempted to duck past Dudley's left. The explosion of pain in his stomach pushed all of his breath out of his body.
"Don't try it, Freak! I'm the pride of Smelting's boxing team. You're going to pay for all the shit you've tried to pull recently. You used to know your place better, Freak, and I'm going to make sure you relearn it." Dudley's face was conformed into a mask of sneering hatred as he spoke, and he wound back for another shot. Harry backpedaled frantically, trying to find a way to his wand, when he saw them. Two figures covered in dark cloaks, which billowed in a nonexistent wind. In a panic, Harry outstretched his hand toward his wand, and screamed loudly the first thing that came to mind.
"ACCIO!" The word was burned into his mind from hours of practice, hours spent summoning pillows from farther and farther away. Images of Hermione, looking proud as Harry's spell yanked an item from her grasp. Images of Ron, a shocked look on his face as Harry summoned a chocolate frog from where it was traveling towards his mouth, then the two of them collapsing in laughter together. Images of a towering dragon covered in spikes, his trusty Firebolt speeding towards him. In an instant, Harry remembered these things, and the feeling that connected them. The thin tingling of magic, arcing through his body and out of his wand, the same feeling that was building in his chest as he screamed out the incantation.
"ACCIO!" He roared, and almost immediately, his wand spun off of the ground and slammed into his hand.
"Move, Dudley." Harry focused his wand on the Dementors over Dudley's shoulder. A look of fear crossed Dudley's face as the wand pointed up to him.
"Why, so you can use more of your freakishness against me, Freak? Stop whatever you're doing. Stop it now!" Dudley began to panic more as the two Dementors drew closer. Harry's vision was beginning to flicker, and he could hear screams starting to invade his hearing.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM" Harry's bellow echoed around the empty street, with the ethereal form of a stag blooming from the end of his wand. Dudley jerked back in terror, falling to the ground as he tried to scramble away. The stag charged at the floating forms of the Dementors, and they fled before it, trying desperately to escape the blinding light of it's aura. The patronus cantered after them for a second, before beginning it's return to Harry. He smiled slightly as it approached, reaching his hand out, ready to try to feel it's ethereal hide. He was focused the patronus, and the memories and dreams of his father that it had brought with it, like always, and so, he never saw Dudley's fist as it raced to meet his temple. The last thing he did see, was the pavement racing up to meet him, before everything went black.
