Author Notes:

Hi guys, many thanks to everyone who's been reading the story. I would really appreciate it if some reviews were posted, just to see if people were enjoying it, or perhaps had some criticism – it gives me an idea of what I need to do/change in my writing. If you have any major questions - please PM me, or review, and I promise I'll answer you:)

Disclaimer: I don't own the world or its characters, I'm just having some fun. All credit to JKR.

Next Update: 03/08/23

Enjoy!

GrumpyBoyBen

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Chapter 2 – Time-Travel and Trips

As Harry's eyes fluttered open once again, he found himself in a familiar room that felt both strange and comforting at the same time. It was his old bedroom at Privet Drive, the place he had spent so many miserable summers. But something was different—something felt off.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was it all a dream? No, it couldn't have been. The encounter with Dumbledore at King's Cross had been too vivid, too real. He had been given a chance, a second chance to make things right, and he couldn't believe that it had actually worked.

Slowly, the events of his memories flooded back into his mind. Ron and Hermione's deaths, the devastating loss of so many loved ones, the final confrontation with Voldemort—it had all been so real, so painful. But now, as he looked around the familiar room, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could change things. Maybe he could prevent all the pain and suffering that had befallen his friends and allies.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave. He could see them again Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, and so many others who had died in the original timeline. They were alive here, that future was now malleable. He could save them, protect them, and maybe, just maybe, find a way to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to focus his thoughts and make sense of the situation. How far back in time had he gone? He needed some clues, something to anchor him to this new timeline. Glancing around the room, his eyes fell upon a mirror hanging on the wall. It was his mother's old hand mirror that Sirius had given him, so he knew that it must be at least after third year.

Harry stood up and approached the mirror, studying his reflection. He looked back at what he perceived to be a younger version of himself. His hair was a bit longer, and there was a sense of weariness in his eyes, along with plenty of scars across his face and upper body. The Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry thought. He must be in the summer after fourth year, after Voldemort's resurrection.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he remembered one other person was still alive: Sirius. In the original timeline, when Sirius had fallen through the veil at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had never truly had a chance to say goodbye. But now, he had the opportunity to spend more time with Sirius, to tell him how much he meant to him, and to keep him safe from harm. He was one of the very few people that he had completely trusted, and having that support back in his life gave Harry a great comfort. However, he remembered what Dumbledore had said, but admittedly, it would be a struggle not to tell Sirius about the fact that he had literally travelled through time. A sense of determination settled over him. He had a lot of work ahead of him, but he was ready for the challenge. He knew that he couldn't change everything, that some things were destined to happen, but he would do everything in his power to save his friends, to prevent Voldemort's rise to power, and to create a better future for the wizarding world.

Cautiously, Harry stepped out of his old bedroom and into the hallway. The Dursleys were nowhere in sight, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of freedom in this house. He had a mission, a purpose, and he would stop at nothing to fulfil it. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he noted that it must be a Friday evening, with the Dursley's out at Aunt Marge's house as they did every Friday, which gave him some time to relax and think.

"What would Hermione do?" Harry mused, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities. She was the cleverest and most organised person he knew, and he could hear her voice in his head telling him that he needed a comprehensive plan. Dumbledore's cryptic advice echoed in his ears, urging him to delve into his untapped potential, developing his knowledge in core areas, and branching out.

Over the next hour or so, Harry envisioned a trip to Diagon Alley. He would venture to Gringotts to secure the necessary funds from his vault, enough to buy some books and equipment. He'd then go to Flourish and Blotts, or perhaps to an older shop that had a broader range of material, which awaited him like a treasure trove of knowledge. He'd look across the shelves for books on advanced charms, defence, transfiguration, and potions, eager to deepen his already impressive NEWT-level expertise. But he yearned to broaden his magical horizon. His thoughts wandered towards Ancient Runes and Magical Wards, both of which could have useful applications in the coming years.

Whilst deep in thought, memories of this exact summer, from the past timeline, resurfaced. The chilling Dementor attack in Little Whinging had been a traumatic event not only for Dudley, but for Harry himself. Not the physical nature of the event, but the attack marked the beginning of what was a pretty miserable year for Harry; from the trial, to Umbridge at school, with the year culminating in Sirius' death. But this time would be different, he'd be ready for the dementors, making sure that Dudley was safe, and he hoped that if he managed that situation well, it could be an omen for a better year to come.

If he remembered correctly, he had around two months until the dementor attack, followed by which the Order would come and 'rescue him'. Although, he wasn't sure that they would come straight after, because if he managed to drop the trace, then nobody would even know that the dementors had come. The prospect of the Order's arrival to collect him did bring a smile to his face. He envisioned the familiar faces of his friends, and he couldn't wait to talk to them. The thought of reuniting with Sirius at Grimmauld Place filled him with warmth, the idea of seeing his godfather again felt like a long-lost comfort. Another thought quickly crossed his mind – the locket. The horcrux should still be at Grimmauld Place, so, if all went well, he'd have a rather successful summer.

In the days leading up to his trip to Diagon Alley, Harry found himself consumed with the daunting task of casting the 'Nonsequeris' spell. He had secluded himself in his room at Privet Drive, the door locked tight to prevent any unwanted interruptions from his less-than-accommodating relatives. The room was small and suffocating, a stark contrast to the magical world he longed to return to.

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to centre his thoughts and emotions. He remembered Dumbledore's cryptic instructions, the nuances and complexities of the spell still eluding him.

"Focus on the memory of your desire to protect yourself and your loved ones," he muttered to himself, trying to recall the feelings of determination and purpose that had fuelled his decision to cast the spell.

With a resolute sigh, he raised his wand again and attempted the incantation. "Nonsequeris."

But once again, the spell sputtered and fizzled, leaving him feeling frustrated and disheartened. He couldn't understand why it wasn't working. Was it his emotions? His wand movement? Or was it something deeper, something he hadn't even considered? He spent hours practicing, trying to unlock the secrets of the spell. Each attempt brought new insights, but also new challenges. The spell seemed to resist him, almost as if it had a will of its own.

Outside his room, the Dursleys went about their usual routine, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil within Harry's mind. They continued to treat him with disdain and contempt, and Harry did his best to keep a low profile and avoid any confrontation. He cleaned up after himself, cooked his own meals, and did his best to stay out of their way.

But despite his efforts, tensions still flared occasionally. Aunt Petunia's shrill voice would echo through the house, complaining about the inconvenience of having him around. Uncle Vernon's face would turn an angry shade of purple as he berated Harry for some perceived infraction. In those moments, Harry had to bite his tongue and remind himself of the greater purpose that lay before him. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get the better of him. He had to stay focused, stay determined.

As the days passed, Harry's will was fading, he questioned if he'd ever succeed. At times, he felt like he was on the brink of a breakthrough. He could almost feel the magic responding to his intent, teasing him with the promise of success. But just as quickly, it would slip through his fingers, leaving him feeling even more frustrated and bewildered.

And so, he persevered. He spent long hours in his room, practicing and refining his technique. In one quiet evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Harry sat on his bed, the familiar sounds of the Dursleys' bickering drifting up from below. He took a deep breath and steadied his trembling hand, holding his wand firmly but gently. Closing his eyes, he summoned all the emotions and memories he had been honing for days. He let the desire to protect himself and those he loved fill his heart, and he channelled that intent into his wand. With slow and deliberate movements, he began to weave the intricate wand patterns of the 'Nonsequeris' spell. The air around him seemed to hum with magic as the incantation left his lips, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of doubt. But he pushed it aside, focusing solely on the magic flowing through him.

In that moment, the spell took hold. Harry could feel the surge of power as the magic obeyed his will. A gentle warmth washed over him, a sensation of protection and concealment enveloping his entire being. The spell had worked. The realization left him both elated and relieved, as he finally felt a semblance of control over his magical abilities. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and a newfound confidence surged within him. With a small smile, Harry lowered his wand and savoured the moment. He knew this was only the beginning, but it was a significant step forward.

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As the feeling washed over him, Harry couldn't help but feel a burst of mischievous glee. He had managed to rid himself of the Trace, and the newfound freedom was simply too enticing to resist.

With a grin, Harry couldn't resist testing out his magic. He tiptoed downstairs, wand at the ready, and a devilish plan forming in his mind. There was one spell he had always wanted to try on Vernon, just for the sake of poetic justice.

Pointing his wand at his uncle, he uttered the incantation with a flourish, "Porciflexio!"

In an instant, Vernon's rear end sprouted a curly, pink pig's tail, just as Dudley's had many moons ago. Harry barely contained his laughter as Vernon turned around, a mix of shock and outrage on his face.

"What did you do, you freak?" Vernon sputtered, trying to grab the tail, which seemed to dance just out of reach.

Petunia erupted into a frenzied tirade, threatening Harry with all sorts of dire consequences. Expulsion from Hogwarts, a lifetime of chores, and even locking him up in the cupboard under the stairs were among the threats hurled at him.

But Harry had reached a point where he didn't care about their threats anymore. He knew he had a plan, and he was ready for whatever they threw his way. With a nonchalant wave of his wand, he cast a Confundus Charm on the Dursleys.

Their fury seemed to melt away, replaced by dazed expressions and vacant smiles. Vernon mumbled something about how he always admired Harry's untamed hair, Petunia even offered to make him a sandwich. Dudley seemed lost in a daydream.

Amidst the confusion, Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself. It was a small taste of the satisfaction he had been denied for years. As much as he disliked the Dursleys, he couldn't help but find a sliver of joy in turning the tables, if only for a moment.

Feeling a sense of triumph, Harry decided that if he had to endure this summer at Privet Drive, he might as well make the most of it. With a sly smile, he conjured a faint mist around the Dursleys' heads, whispering subtle suggestions of kindness and affection.

Petunia cooed and called him "dear nephew," Vernon ruffled his hair with a fond smile, and even Dudley gave him a half-hearted pat on the back.

As Harry retreated back to his room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of victory. The Dursleys may never truly like him, but for now, he had the upper hand. And who knew? Maybe a summer of learning, training and magically-induced family fun was the positive start he needed.

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In the early hours of the morning, Harry stepped out of the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive, his face hidden beneath a glamour charm that altered his appearance ever so slightly. He pulled a cap low over his forehead, to further enhance his disguise, and clutched his wand tightly in his hand. Casting a last wary glance at the house, he slipped on his invisibility cloak and set off down the empty street.

Walking carefully, he made his way far enough from Privet Drive, ensuring no one would spot him leaving, especially someone from the Order. Once he felt confident in his distance, he removed the cloak and held his wand aloft, ready to summon the Knight Bus. The familiar triple-decker bus soon appeared in a whirl of purple and black, and Harry climbed aboard, greeted by the eccentric conductor.

"To the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said quietly, keeping his face obscured from view.

The bus navigated through the dark, winding streets until it finally came to a halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron. With a soft sigh of relief, Harry stepped off the bus and made his way through the entrance, his disguise allowing him to pass unnoticed even by Tom, the ever-watchful innkeeper.

As he entered Diagon Alley, Harry's heart swelled with emotion. It was a stark contrast to the last time he had been here. In the prior timeline, during the height of the war, the once-thriving alley had been reduced to ashes, its shops in ruins, and its streets filled with despair and fear. Now, the alley was alive with light, laughter, and the promise of a brighter future. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as he strolled through the vibrant marketplace, the memories of the past echoing in his mind. He felt a mix of sorrow and gratitude, knowing that he now had a chance to change the course of history and prevent the tragedies that had befallen this place.

Harry's first stop was Gringotts, the magnificent bank at the front of the alley. Walking through the grand atrium, he approached one of the counters, where a small, elderly goblin with a long, drooping moustache greeted him with a knowing glint in his eye.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter," the goblin said in a gravelly voice. "An unexpected surprise."

Harry blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off guard by the goblin's recognition. He had expected to remain anonymous in his disguise, but it seemed that the goblins were always astute in their observations.

"Yes, I-I need to make a withdrawal," Harry stammered, trying to collect himself.

"Of course," the goblin replied, his sharp eyes assessing Harry with an air of shrewdness.

Harry nodded, and the goblin proceeded to process his request. With a flick of his long fingers, the vault key levitated into the air, and Harry followed the goblin down the winding passageways to the depths of the bank.

"Mr. Potter," the goblin said, drawing his attention back. "You should know that this vault is accessible to you until you come of age, at seventeen. After that, you'll have access to the Potter family vault, which is much deeper underground."

Harry was taken aback. He hadn't been aware of a family vault in his past life. It was yet another revelation, a new piece of his identity and heritage that he hadn't known about. He thought back to why he didn't find out about this last time round, but realised he was probably too busy breaking into this very bank, rather than asking details about his inheritance.

"I-I didn't know," Harry admitted. It had come as a surprise to Harry, but since he couldn't to anything about it until he was seventeen, he may as well not think about it.

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After leaving Gringotts, Harry continued his journey through Diagon Alley. He made his way to Oddities and Obscurities, an older shop that Dumbledore had told him about in his seventh year, it contained older and more detailed magical tomes. As he stepped inside, the smell of old parchment and ink filled his senses, bringing back memories of countless hours spent with Hermione, poring over books in the Hogwarts library.

Harry began perusing the shelves, seeking out the most advanced and comprehensive books on defence, charms, transfiguration, and potions. He found some books that delved deeper into the theory and practice of each subject, promising to enhance his already impressive NEWT-level understanding. He carefully selected the books, knowing they would become his companions over the coming months.

However, as he approached the counter to pay, Harry remembered Dumbledore's advice about exploring different branches of magic. He paused for a moment, considering the possibilities. He had always been a talented and resourceful wizard, but he knew that true mastery required a broader understanding of the magical world.

With this in mind, Harry veered toward another section of the shop, searching for books on the fundamentals of ancient runes and magical wards. He had barely scratched the surface of these subjects during his previous years at Hogwarts, but he knew there was plenty of circumstances where they could come in handy.

As he walked away from Oddities and Obscurities, his arms laden with books, Harry felt a sense of anticipation and eagerness to delve into the wealth of knowledge he had acquired. But he thought that whilst he was her, he might as well make another quick purchase. He made his way to Eeylops Owl Emporium, where he bought Hedwig a selection of her favourite treats, wanting to show his appreciation for his faithful companion.

As he continued his explorations, the alley was becoming more and more busy. The vibrant, bustling atmosphere made him smile. Harry felt a sense of belonging. This was his home, and he would do anything necessary to make sure that Voldemort didn't ruin it this time.

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Over the next few days at Privet Drive, Harry found himself strangely enjoying his time there, thanks to the subtle modifications he had made to the Dursleys' attitudes. Although he did have to reapply the confundus charms a fair few times, he had managed to make them treat him with a level of kindness they had never shown before. It was almost amusing to see Uncle Vernon compliment him on his chores and Aunt Petunia attempt to engage in polite conversation.

Sitting down, he wished that he had Hermione's ability to just absorb knowledge. Many-a-time recently, he'd opened a few pages of the book, and put it down within a few minutes. But now he decided it was time to properly focus. He realized that becoming a master of these arts would not happen overnight. No matter how talented he was, the depth of understanding required time, dedication, and practice.

With a stack of advanced books on defence, charms, transfiguration, and potions before him, Harry decided to prioritize his studies. Defence was of paramount importance, especially considering the looming threat of Dementors and the inevitable showdown with Voldemort. So, that's what he decided to start with.

In the quiet solitude of his room at Privet Drive, he cracked open the first book, "Defense Against the Dark Arts: Beyond the Basics." The pages were filled with diagrams, incantations, and explanations that delved far beyond the curriculum he had learned at Hogwarts. The material was challenging, and Harry had to reread passages several times to fully grasp the concepts.

He read about advanced shielding spells that could protect against even the most powerful curses, and counter-curses that could deflect an opponent's attack. The intricacies of duelling were laid bare before him, and he learned about the subtle art of reading an opponent's movements and intentions.

As he immersed himself in the book, he practiced the spells and techniques in the confined space of his room. He envisioned himself in intense duels, his wand movements fluid and precise, and his focus unwavering. But the reality was far from the ideal. Casting these advanced spells required a level of finesse and control that he had not yet attained.

He grew frustrated at times, stumbling over incantations, and failing to achieve the desired effects. But he refused to give up. He reminded himself that mastery was not achieved in a matter of days; it was a journey of continuous growth and improvement. But as he read more, and practiced more, he began to feel like he was making some progress. It was at this point that he decided he could broaden his reading a bit, adding in some charms and transfiguration reading.

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He continued this pattern for a while, even having some nice family dinners with the Dursleys occasionally, and Harry was satisfied with his progress. It was only a week or two away now from when he thought the Dementor attack would be, and from then, not long until his return to Grimmauld Place. But with the little time left, he thought that he might give his first book on Magical Wards a read. So that night in his bedroom, he started.

As Harry delved into the world of magical wards, he found himself captivated by the intricacies and possibilities they presented. The book he had acquired, titled "Wards and Protections: Safeguarding Your World," was a rather old book, filled with faded illustrations and pages of text written in elegant script. Each word seemed to beckon him further into the realm of hidden knowledge.

In the dim light of his room at Privet Drive, Harry turned page after page, absorbing the wealth of information before him. The book covered an array of magical wards, from simple protective barriers to complex enchantments that could shield entire areas or even conceal their existence from prying eyes. As he read, he realized just how crucial this branch of magic could be in the battles that lay ahead.

The first chapter explored basic wards, the foundations upon which more advanced protections were built. Harry learned about simple household wards that alerted the residents of an intruder's presence, and protective circles that could be drawn to guard against dark entities. Although these wards seemed elementary compared to what he had faced in the Triwizard Tournament and beyond, he recognized their value in everyday life and the added layer of security they could provide.

As he peeked at what is mentioned in the later chapters, Harry's excitement grew. These were spells designed to fortify dwellings, castles, and secret locations against magical intrusion. He read about impregnable barriers that could repel curses and hexes, and intricate sigils that could detect disguised enemies. But he had to remember that to get to the complex, one must learn the basics. It was with that thought that he closed the book and drifted off to sleep.