A/N: Bit shorter than I would have liked but I got everything done in it that I wanted and saw no need to drag things out unnecessarily. Hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and will never profit from this little fiction.

Chapter 2: The Right Time and Place

-1067th Alternate Reality-

With a start, Harry sat up.

The pain that followed this action was not something he had expected. Rubbing his smarting head as the world slowly blurred into focus, Harry rubbed his eyes to clear them of any lingering sleep.

It was dark around him, nearly pitch black if he was honest with himself, even though he was no painter and couldn't tell anyone what type of black he was currently dealing with. Wow, he had hit his head a lot harder than he thought.

Gingerly touching around his body, Harry soon enough knocked against walls on both sides of his body.

It took a while for the gears to turn in his head as he started to search for a wand, trinket or gold coins of any kind on his body. When he found none of the before mentioned and confirmed that he was indeed a lot smaller than he remembered being during his teenage years, a small smile slowly spread on his face.

It was too early to hope that this was the one, but it was as good a start as any.

With casual ease he called up his magic, so much smaller than he was used to and a little unresponsive, and blasted the hinges off the door to his cupboard. Blinking owlishly as he watched said door flying through the air and smacking against the adjacent wall with a loud crack, he stared at his outstretched hand with confusion.

"I am going to need a lot more practice before I try to apparate. No need to literally leave my head behind when I forget the keys." Harry murmured to himself as he crawled out into the hallway and stood up. He could already hear the stamping footfalls of his Uncle tumbling down the stairs and Harry had to blink a few times when a light flicked to life above him. It was odd not to have glasses yet.

Staring up into the face of one Vernon Dursley as it turned a very ugly shade of purple, Harry had to wonder if he would feel the same if he was woken up in the dead of the night by the noise he had just created.

Probably.

Sadly, his Uncle deserved that and more in spades, so there wasn't even a twinge of guilt as he watched the man rearing back a fist.

Similar to a car-crash in slow motion, he watched the man erupt in morbid fascination as spittle flew towards him like artillery fire during the war while Vernon shouted.

"What do you actually think you are doing at this hour, boy?! How dare you make a racket like this at half-past two in the morning while hard working people like me have to stand up early you ungrateful, lazy waste of space! Oh, you are going to get it now, I am going to make sure of that. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you would be a burden to this household but if I have to beat manners into you while I beat the magic out, by god I will!"

During this entire episode that his overweight Uncle was having, the man was so lost in his anger that he didn't even notice that not a drop of his spraying spit ever reached Harry or that his Nephew looked completely unfazed as he looked up at him. And as a fist started to descend on a young boy's face, there wasn't even a second that the adult in the room pondered how the boy had escaped the cupboard that had a lock on the outside of it.

To say that this was a grave mistake was an understatement.

Having no real control over his magic for the finer arts currently and not wanting to even bother, Harry grabbed his magic that was thrumming under his skin, watched as a threat in the form of fifty pounds of arm swung towards him, and pushed. The result was nearly biblical in its proportions.

An incredible force hit the body of his Uncle and his entire form trembled like a ripple in a pond. Barely a scarce second later air was displaced and gravity lost its hold on a specimen of the human race as he sailed through the air. The ground, walls and hallway cracked apart like an egg over a bowl from the shockwave that traveled through the immediate area as every picture frame, window and door in the entire bottom floor of Number 4, Privet Drive was blasted apart. The door leading out into the garden in the kitchen was barely hanging onto the frame it was force into as the lock gave way to brute force. The front door on the other hand was much closer to the epicenter of the magical push and was reduced to little more than kindling as the pieces descended on the neighbor's lawn.

That all of this happened in near silence except for the groaning of a strained foundation and audible snapping of hinges was probably the strangest thing. Even the glass had made no real noise as it tumbled to the floor all around the house.

Finally, after what seemed to Harry as ages, his Uncle eventually reached the end of his journey as his body flew through the opening where once there had been a front door and tumbled to the ground outside. Only a small groan escaped Vernon's mouth before he went still. Probably unconscious.

Harry merely shrugged and exited the house that had never been a home to him.

It was time to see if things were as they should be or if he would have to wait for a better reality to come along to spend eternity in.

Compared to what the average wizard or witch might expect, breaking into the Ministry of Magic was quite easy. Especially if you could manage a disillusionment charm that every Hogwarts student was taught during sixth year. Only that you had to be able to manage it wandlessly if you possessed no wand of your own was the real problem for Harry at the moment.

After a few failed tries, which resulted in an alley turning into an orange colored garden, two sentient waste bins that decided it was time for a vacation to Peru and a case of bad indigestion, the magic finally took. It was good to know that he could at least manage it when he needed to later. If he even needed it at all.

Focusing his magic for a simple point me spell that would hopefully not backfire spectacularly, Harry was relieved to feel the mental tug telling him which direction to go.

Harry had, after many different realities, discovered that some magic taught at Hogwarts was misinformation on the highest order.

The Four-Point spell or otherwise known as 'Point-Me' could show the caster which way was north. But there was a reason it was called 'Four-Point' spell. Length, Height, Width. The three dimensions that made up our visible reality made up most of the basis of the Point-Me Spell. The fourth point of reference being Direction.

Guided by the casters magic giving the entire construct direction, it turned from a simple spell that acted like a compass to a magic devouring vortex that could point to any and all knowledge of places, things, secrets; you name it. If you asked it to show you the way to your father even if you never met the man since he left you while you were a toddler, it would do just that.

The Point-Me spell was one of the earliest discoveries in divination that worked precisely. Knowledge thought lost millennia ago was rediscovered by one Harry James Potter when he decided to delve into spell creation. That said discovered spell took more magic to cast than some wizards had in their body was but a small detail for the doors it opened for Harry.

Knowing the general direction of his target told him enough of where to go all in itself. Gathering his magic once more, and noticing the dip that holding the Point-Me spell for even a scant few seconds had created, a pulse went through the empty street he was currently standing in, unfelt by the sleeping muggles in the immediate area.

Soon enough a loud bang and the sound of screeching tires heralded the arrival of one of the only travel options for a wizard without a floo connection or working wand, the Knight Bus.

Once Harry's ticket for quick travel came to a dangerously close stop next to his toes, the doors opened and instead of Stan Shunpike, a withered and grey haired small witch hopped onto the sidewalk next to him.

"Oh dear, all alone at this hour little one? Did you lose your parents?" She had the most innocent expression but her twisted features and the way she was licking her lips told Harry enough to know she was a Hag.

Unlike what most might expect when confronted with this rather rude way of saying that a person was ugly, a Hag in the wizarding world spoke of a magical disease that could affect witches.

Just like a Werewolf they could be dangerous and their blood was sought after by quite a few skilled potion masters. Unlike lycanthropy, their disease could be cured with the right potions in the early stages of infection.

That the ones that remained felt a nagging urge to consume children's flesh even outside their one-week madness around Halloween didn't do Harry any real favors as he tried to step past the salivating witch.

"De-aging Potion accident, just trying to get something done at the Ministry and then I'm on my way home." He quickly said while trying to ignore the roving eyes and twitching fingers as he pushed past and sat on one of the beds. It took the witch a few deep breaths to get her thoughts back in order again before she rapped against the pane separating them to the driver and they shot off into London. Trying to remain on the bed alone took nearly all of Harry's concentration so he didn't notice a presence near him until a hand began massaging his thigh.

One quick turn of his head had him face to face with the Hag that had a dazed look in her eyes and was licking one long serpentine tongue over a wart covered lip.

Rolling his eyes and deciding enough was enough, he funneled his magic towards his eyes and took a single look into her own. One quick stab of overpowered Legilimency later and he left the snoring Hag lying on the bed he had previously been sitting on while he wandered to another.

Sure, he could have killed her or taken a deep look, but just because she could be dangerous didn't mean she deserved such treatment. Memories of Remus wouldn't let him judge an afflicted person he didn't know too quickly.

Barely five minutes later he exited the bus with a quick thanks to the driver while layering a small compulsion charm over the hunched over man to make him hesitate in asking if Harry had paid already or not. Magic made things so easy sometimes.

Scant few moments later he was standing in a muggle telephone box in Whitehall at quarter past three in the morning. Having only the body of a small child, Harry was starting to feel a bit fatigued but ignored it for now.

Dialing a quick '62442', a woman's voice started to echo in the enclosed space he was standing in.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Thinking for a moment, Harry turned the receiver in his hands a few times before speaking into it.

"Lord Voldemort, ruler of Magical Britain and I am on my way to plunder the Department of Mysteries."

There was a moment of silence and Harry thought he had tripped some kind of alarm until the voice once again echoed in the box.

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a sound of something falling to the floor and Harry had to take a few moments to find it on the ground. As he held the square silver badge into the dim light of a distant streetlight, he could barely make out the words Lord Voldemort, Breaking and Entering on it. Unable to stifle the snicker that escaped him as he pinned it to his shirt that was nearly three sizes too big, Harry slowly descended into the bowels of the British Magical Government.

The Atrium of the Ministry was completely empty at this hour, and with nary a sound the telephone box ascended once again to the outside world behind Harry as he stepped out of it.

Seeing the familiar sight of the golden statues of wizard, witch, centaur, goblin and house-elf felt like a reminder that not everything that shined and twinkled was indeed riches and beauty. Even in a time of peace like now, the Magical Society of Wizards and Witches was a twisted and ugly thing once you scraped away the thin veneer.

Passing by the statues, Harry found himself soon enough before a golden gate he had never seen closed before. It did make sense that it was closed at this time of the day, better than them being so incompetent that they would leave their entire Government building open for any and all to wander into. Contemplating on what to do, Harry sent out a tendril of magic from his body and soon enough encountered a strong ward scheme once it touched the gate.

Having no wand or any real control over his power was starting to be a frustrating experience for Harry as he felt unsure in brute forcing his way inside, which he could do.

Taking a step closer, he examined the bars blocking his way and an idea formed in his mind. It was so improbable that it might as well work.

Taking another peek at the wards and enchantments on the gate to make sure what he was going to try wouldn't fry him alive, Harry put a tentative leg against it. When nothing happened, he grabbed the bar above him and pulled himself up to a small opening. It wasn't big enough to ever let an adult slip through but a 7 or 8-year-old malnourished child? It was a tight fit, but he popped through to the other side soon enough.

Harry wasn't sure if he should be glad or sad that he was able to ignore a blockade that would have stopped anyone except maybe Dumbledore or Voldemort with such relative ease. Given, he had some extenuating circumstances on his side and luck, but any Animagus of small enough size could have done the same too.

Which made a new, disturbing kind of sense why Wormtail was so valued as a spy by Voldemort.

The lifts seemed to be non-functional at this time of the night, so Harry had no other option but to take the stairs. That he had to climb from the 8th to the 1st floor did put a bit of an interesting spin on his little Journey as he eventually reached the door saying Minister of Magic and Support staff on it while holding his smarting side.

"J-just a moment," he mumbled to himself as he leaned against the wall, completely out of breath.

Taking a minute to recuperate, Harry eventually pushed the entrance door open and stepped on a fluffy purple carpet. Whoever had designed this level had to have been colorblind to ignore the clashing hues that assaulted his eyes as he looked around.

Passing one mahogany door after the other while reading pure-blood names from gleaming plaques that seemed to be made from pure gold, Harry eventually found the right one.

"Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," he read out loud with a grin.

Checking the door for any charms and only finding a simple locking one, he dispelled it and opened the door.

The office reminded Harry nauseatingly of the one she had been in charge of during her tenure at Hogwarts. Pink on salmon with sleeping kitten picture frames. Oh, he had indeed found the lair of the toad in cardigan.

An oak desk was at the back of the room with a plushy, and naturally pink, armchair. Sitting in it he found his target, clearly sleeping with her head on a pile of documents.

Contrary to popular belief, Dolores Jane Umbridge was actually a half-blood that hated her muggle mother and squib brother, blaming them for everything that went wrong in her life. Even her own father she had practically exiled from the Ministry once she had a position of power in it. It was hard to say if she had ever been a pure soul or not, Harry doubted it, but a quick look should give some easy answers. If he was right it wouldn't matter too much and if he was wrong… well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Smacking her on the back of the head and ignoring the shout of surprise as she awoke from her slumber, Harry grabbed her by the hair and gazed into her bleary eyes. Before she had the chance to say even a single word he was inside her mind and tearing it apart as quickly as he could.

Two seconds in the real world later he let go of her head, headless of the way it smacked into the desk beneath her and ignoring the blank stare and drool coming out of her mouth. He had found what he wanted. Oh boy had he hit pay-dirt.

Legilimency could be used many ways, but the simplest way was to enter someone's mind and to interpret what memories one could lure out properly. Perception was a fickle thing, everyone saw the world differently so certain things the mind forgot from a picture or they had to be dug out painfully to be re-discovered.

One way to get around this, if you ignored the target you used it on in question, was to use a lot more power than was normally safe. In a sense, you brute-forced your way through it all until the mind shattered. Consciousness stilled and stopped as the mind fragmented and drifted apart in shards of personality and memories. This made discovering information you wanted or were looking for a lot easier. Instead of having to goad or guide the mind you were in repeatedly back and forth, you could simply sift through it all personally without interference.

The side-effect from this was that your target would be brain-dead afterwards.

The information that Harry discovered matched everything he wanted. Death Eaters still roamed around thanks to the power of money and bribery, the nasty ones were held in Azkaban, no one too important had died or gone 'dark' and as far as he could tell, everything was like it had been in his first world.

Naturally, taking only one mind into account for a whole world was foolish, so Harry would spend a good few days, maybe even weeks, looking into certain people and making sure everything was as it should be for his plan. Something like Nicholas Flamel not existing, for example, could have some pretty bad consequences in the long run.

Whistling a happy tune to himself, he pushed the door into the hallway outside open and once again stepped onto the purple carpet that would lead him to the stairs.

Ignored was the form of Dolores Umbridge as she slowly slipped out of her chair and tumbled to the ground in a heap. Unblinking eyes stared ahead as a small puddle of drool appeared under her chin.

Life was simply good

A/N: Anyone else smell burnt toast?