It was apparently too much to ask for the Dursleys to willingly allow and give him his letter. Keeping up their pretense to try being nice, it was Dudley who loudly exclaimed that there was a letter addressed to Harry. When Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got hold of the letter, Harry knew it was the Hogwarts acceptance letter as their eyes nearly bulged out from their sockets.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

Uncle Vernon snapped his head and smiled painfully, "None of your bloody business – I mean – er – it was addressed to somebody different, a mistake from the postman, really."

Harry accepted this reason and didn't bother them anymore of the letter and was quite ready to pretend and play with the Dursleys. Even if he didn't actively seek out the letter, it will come to him by the form of his dear old friend, Rubeus Hagrid. He conceded that it was rather too early to make changes, when he wasn't in Hogwarts quite yet.

Harry was proven quite right. The letters just kept coming, even if Uncle Vernon had put nails on the mail, it kept coming like a plague. The letters were slipping from every nook and cranny of the house, it arrived in the eggs Aunt Petunia bought, it arrived in quantities that Uncle Vernon had burned every single one, and then, the straw the broke the camels back arrived: Owls. Neighbors were gawking at 4 Privet Drive as flocks of owls began nesting and making themselves at home in the lawn, roof, and Petunia's prized garden.

Enter Sunday. Uncle Vernon was quite in a good mood because there are no mails on Sundays, but letters came whizzing from the chimney, pelting everyone as more and more rained and fell down on the house. His uncle thought Harry might be taking the chance to grab one, caught him on his waist and went out of the room together with Aunt Petunia and Dudley.

"That's it!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, "We're going away!"

The Dursleys and Harry found themselves driving to a hotel where, still, Harry knew they'd be followed. The receptionist had called for Harry claiming he had hundred of letters for him in the front desk. His aunt merely whimpered while Uncle Vernon seemed to pop a vein.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" whimpered Dudley as he scooched closer to his mother.

They moved again, but Harry knew, it was only delaying the inevitable. It's how he found himself lying on the cold floor, shivering, and he counted the minutes before midnight. The only joy his mind would process right now was Hagrid's arrival. Ten—nine—eight—seven—at last, his savior would arrive—three—two—one—

SMASH!

A wide smile stretched upon Harry's face as the door got demolished by a familiar giant of a man standing in a door way. His face was hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard – the rough and tough exterior that hid his gentle and caring nature. Harry's mind flashed back to when Hagrid gently carried him, fat drops of tears falling on his face, as he marched and followed Voldemort to the grounds of Hogwarts.

Harry winced. He focused back on what's happening. It took a great deal of restraint to stop himself from jumping and engulfing Hagrid in a hug, which is impossible for him, mind. He was supposed to be a boy who has no knowledge of what's happening and Harry would play his part.

Everything went as it happened last time, Harry receiving his letter and birthday cake, Hagrid going berserk at the Dursleys, and the Dursleys scarred for life. They were now on the way to Diagon Alley, and Harry winced because the last time he was there, he broke in Gringotts.

It's been too long since he saw The Leaky Cauldron, the musty interior was in contrast to the lively audience and atmosphere it held every time. Witches gossiping, raucous warlocks having a pint, even dwarves and hags sometimes linger in here.

Unfortunately, all activities had to stop when Tom called attention to him and now a flock of grateful wizards and witches or those who just want to see him were shaking his hand. Dedalus Diggle's top hat still stood out – the last time he saw him was accompanying the Dursleys to a safe house – and then Doris Crockford who, Harry thought, shook his hand at least a hundred times now.

And the man of the hour: Quirinus Quirrell. The man foolish enough to bring Lord Voldemort from Albania. Harry had to wonder how great of an actor Quirrell was for adopting his nervous disposition and stutters as a personality. It took every bit of consciousness from Harry to stop himself from glaring at Quirrell as he conversed.

"N-n-nice t-to meet you, P-Potter," Quirrell bid his goodbye as Hagrid led him through the bar. The DADA professor immediately went off, planning to stage a robbery at Gringotts, Harry reckoned.

Hagrid tapped the wall with the point of his umbrella, and the bricks parted as it revealed an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Harry can make out cauldrons, potions ingredients, animals, brooms, and pointed hats – Harry had almost forgotten how beautiful, how colorful and wondrous Diagon Alley was in contrast to the posters and vacant stores when Voldemort reigned.

Harry was immediately moved to tears.

"A'righ' there, Harry?" asked Hagrid, alarmed at seeing Harry with tears in his eyes.

Harry shook his head.

"It's just so beautiful, Hagrid. I didn't think it would be this beautiful," said Harry, fighting the emotions as coming home left unsaid.

Hagrid smiled warmly as he gently patted Harry's back.

"Welcome, Harry," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

Daunted as he was, Harry managed to get by to Gringotts just fine chanting don't be suspicious. The last time he was here, he technically wrecked the place. They withdrew galleons from his vault and Hagrid collected the Philosopher's Stone before Quirrell can steal it. Hagrid was looking green after the cart ride in Gringotts and asked Harry to proceed to Madam Malkin's.

"Hagrid!" called Harry as Hagrid walked away.

The half-giant turned to him, confused.

"Let's get ice cream together after I got fitted with robes, okay?"

Hagrid beamed and nodded as Harry started to make his way to Madam Malkin. Harry entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions more confident than he was back then and saw Madam Malkin, a squat, kind witch, dressed in all mauve making her way towards him.

"Hello, Madam Malkin, another fit for Hogwarts," said Harry, cheekily.

Madam Malkin paused, before letting out a chuckle, "You are a charming young man! Come."

She led him in the back of the shop where Harry saw Draco Malfoy standing on a footstool while he was being fitted by a second witch. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts, too?"

Harry snorted in his mind. Draco really loved to tattle, didn't he?

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," drawled Draco. "Then I'm going to drag them off looking at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Ah, youth. Harry regretted not making the most of being a student.

"I'm sure," quipped Harry, before following it up with an affirmation, "Yeah, I do think it's unfair not having first years bring brooms."

Harry hadn't even thought of that but his mind cheered up as he remembered Professor McGonagall acquiring a Nimbus for him. That instantly warmed Harry's heart before Draco roused him from his thoughts.

"I know!" said Draco excitedly, his pretense of acting like an adult replaced by childish wonder. Harry smiled. This is how Draco should have been, not the prat he knew that was being raised in outlandish expectations. Pure-bloods, Harry thought unkindly.

"Have you got any broom?" inquired Draco, his eyes shining at the topic.

Harry hesitated before answering, "Er – not really, but I'm pretty sure someone will get me one by the second week."

Draco's eyebrows raised hearing about this, suspicion laced on his voice as he said, "You're pretty sure about this. You play Quidditch?"

"Of course," scoffed Harry, "do you?"

Draco seemed offended that Harry would ask him such a question.

"Of course, I do! Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

Ah, they have now arrived at the talk about Houses.

"No, but I'm sure whatever House I'll be in, it'll be great," lied Harry, as he knew he would insist being sorted back to his original house. It's not that he didn't like the other Houses, Gryffindor has just become familiar to him. Besides, if he got sorted into other houses, he'd have to adjust both his plans and his familiarity to Hogwarts which is a big no.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Madam Malkin made a choked noise at hearing Draco. Harry faced Draco as he responded, "I have no doubt you'll do great in Slytherin but being in Hufflepuff, a house of loyalty, is not something to be ashamed of."

Draco seemed to be taken aback while Madam Malkin patted Harry's shoulders, "Quite right, dear. I was a Puff, myself."

Harry smiled kindly at Madam Malkin.

"Well, I guess," muttered Draco, bewildered at the boy's ability to counter him, before exclaiming, "I say, look at that man!"

Draco was nodding towards the window where Hagrid was outside, waiting and grinning at Harry.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, "He works at Hogwarts and he's showing me around."

"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper, there's a difference." said Harry.

"Yes, exactly – what do you mean a difference?" said Draco, confused.

Harry sighed, "It means that he has a different mandate than being a servant. Being a servant means being expected to follow orders without complaining."

Harry winced a bit, knowing Hagrid would follow Dumbledore's orders without complaint but he was more than just a servant.

"But I heard he's a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

Harry leveled Draco with a disappointing look.

"How would you know that when you've not even met the man? It's not very nice judging people based on rumors that may not even be true. You're not that gullible, are you?"

Draco blanched. "Of course not!"

"Then prove it."

Draco sniffed, "Why is he with you anyway? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, and unlike last time, he really sounded apologetic.

"But they were our kind, weren't they?" he inquired and Harry almost had to roll his eyes.

"I don't think it matters but yes, they were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Harry said fiercely, frustrated, "I don't think my surname matters but if you're concerned about people not being brought up to know our ways, then they could just take a class regarding customs. Good day."

Draco seemed to have swallowed a sour candy as he processed what Harry said but before he could say anything, Madam Malkin had dismissed Harry. Not wasting any more time with Draco since he's patience had rapidly been thinning as he talked to the boy, he rushed out of the shop only to be held back by Madam Malkin.

"Thank you for countering him every time, Mr. Potter," she whispered, smiling as she clutched his robes on her hand.

Harry was confused. This didn't happen last time. Seeing his confusion, Madam Malkin giggled.

"You looked just like young James Potter as he trotted in here with your grandparents. Now, hurry along, Hagrid's waiting."

Madam Malkin promptly went back to her counter. Bewildered, Harry met Hagrid and they both went to the familiar direction of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Arriving, they were greeted by a kind-looking man, his wavy hair falling down to his neck, and was wearing gold round-rimmed glasses. Harry had almost forgotten how bright Florean Fortescue was as he was never found again after he was abducted on Harry's sixth year.

"Hagrid, old friend! How are things going at dear old Hogwarts – and who is this young man with you?" the man greeted as he approached them.

"Ah, Hogwarts is still Hogwarts. This is Harry, I'm showing 'im around. Harry, this is Florean Fortescue," replied Hagrid.

"How do you do, Mr. Fortescue?" said Harry, politely.

Mr. Fortescue's eyebrows reached the top of his head. "Merlin's beard! So honored to meet you, Mr. Potter!"

He shook Harry's hands.

"Well, I'm assuming you want a pint of ice cream? Well, it's on the house!" chirped Mr. Fortescue as he winked at Harry.

Hagrid chuckled. "Harry, Florean here is one of the best wizards Hogwarts 'as produced. Very smart, as expected from a Ravenclaw, an' he's good with business too! He's a direct descendant of Hogwarts Headmaster, Dexter Fortescue."

"You flatter me Hagrid, but I'm fairly a decent student. However, if it's History homework you need help with, I can probably tell you pointers," said Mr. Fortescue merrily as he handed them their ice creams.

Harry had no doubt Mr. Fortescue can help him with his homework, fondly remembering how he helped Harry on his third year History of Magic homework about medieval witch burning. Harry stilled at the sudden realization that Mr. Fortescue may have been kidnapped by Death Eaters because of his knowledge. No matter, Harry would make sure that what happened last time won't happen in this timeline.

After bidding Florean Fortescue goodbye, they proceeded to Flourish and Blotts to buy his required textbooks – Harry slipped in a book entitled Mind over Matter which he suspected had some discussion about mind magic. They made their way towards The Apothecary to buy basic potion ingredients, and then finally Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left — oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry was torn, he wanted Hedwig back but also didn't want to bother Hagrid. His hesitation was caught by Hagrid as the half-giant smiled warmly.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at — an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry patiently waited for Hagrid to pick a white, snowy owl whose eyes had locked with Harry's as he entered the shop.

Harry's breath hitched at seeing his old friend who died unfairly during the Battle of Seven Potters. Hedwig's eyes shone as if she recognized Harry… but that's impossible, right? Hagrid paid for Hedwig and gave her cage to Harry, and unlike last time, Hedwig wasn't sleeping. In fact, she stared at Harry and Harry felt his eyes moistened.

"Hello, old friend," he whispered lowly so that Hedwig was the only one to hear. The owl hooted back.

"Alrigh' there, Harry?" asked Hagrid.

Harry looked at Hagrid with teary eyes, "She's perfect, Hagrid. Thank you."

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Harry perked up at meeting another old friend – er, sort of. His faithful holly wand.

As Harry entered Ollivanders, he could feel the magic of the place. It was creepy, yes, but the magic felt so strong and so alive. Well, for how long this place have offered their services, it was bound to collect the magical residue of every witch and wizard and every wand sold, Harry thought.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry turned to see an old was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. The wizened and greatest wandmaker, Garrick Ollivander.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander."

"Ah, I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter! It seemed only yesterday when your mother and father were in here buying their first wands," Mr. Ollivander said before turning to Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet.

"I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke. Harry suspected that Dumbledore fixed Hagrid's wand using the elder wand – just like Harry had with his holly – and encased it in the umbrella. Come to think of it, a broken wand could not have conjured fire, made the boat row by itself, and gave Dudley a pig tail.

"Very well," said Mr. Ollivander, his feet already shuffling to choose wands that might fit Harry. Even as he searched for wands, he tattled about James Potter's mahogany wand and Lily Potter's willow. Like before, Harry went through a lot of wands but Mr. Ollivander took this as a marvelous challenge.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers as if the wand recognized him from before. Harry didn't know what's happening but he was suddenly very emotional this day as tears once again made its way to his eyes. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . ."

Harry had already expected this response, it was just like Mr. Ollivander to be immersed in his study of wandlore. He belatedly realized that he didn't praise Voldemort nor like him but he was talking about the nature of the wands and the wizard that wield it, so Harry asked despite his better judgement, "Sorry, what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why but I think it is clear, we can expect great things from you… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

After that entertaining day at Diagon Alley, Harry dreaded coming home. They had to come back to the Hut-on-The-Rock since Hagrid technically used the only boat to row themselves earlier to shore. The Dursleys were terrified at the sight of him.

Annoyed, Harry exclaimed, "Well, if you want Dudley to go to the hospital to remove it with a lot of questions you don't like to answer than having Hagrid to do it, suit yourselves."

This shut them up, and although they were scared, they let Hagrid perform magic at Dudley. One swish and it was gone, much to their relief. Hagrid bid Harry goodbye before glaring at the Dursleys.

"If I hear yeh doin' somethin' ta Harry, I can do so much worse than a tail," Hagrid rumbled as he went out and watched the Dursleys flinched.

"Hagrid, I don't think that's necessary. Nonetheless, thank you," said Harry as the boat rowed to the shore.

Hagrid bid Harry goodbye before Harry and The Dursleys left for Privet Drive. The following days weren't fun but all in all, it wasn't as bad as before. They didn't give Harry chores or bother him or even grumbled about Hedwig like before – not loudly anyway – but they were back in ignoring Harry's existence which suited him just fine.

Harry perused his books in advanced, even though he's here to prevent things from happening, he also vowed to make the most of it as a student, knowing he didn't go to school for his seventh year. In fact, he was thinking of competing with Hermione, not minding his six-year advantage ("It's not cheating, it's using everything at your disposal," reasoned Harry).

He explored the book Mind over Matter but found out only surface level of information about certain branches of magic that includes the mind but in-depth history of mind magic. Harry was positive he had to learn this skill no matter what because his knowledge of the future was dangerous, not because of Dumbledore or Snape, but of Voldemort! Should he be resurrected, one look at his memories and it will all come crashing down. This was the danger Dumbledore told him about in limbo!

"Legilimency was the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings. A person who practised this art was known as a Legilimens. Plebeians may have called this art as "mind-reading" but it is more than just reading the mind. Through legilimency, one can plant false memories, influence the mind, or communication…"

"The opposite of Legilimency was Occlumency, which was used to shield one's mind from the invasion and influence of a Legilimens… Occlumency was the magical defence of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one. It could prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them. A wizard or witch who practised this art was known as an Occlumens."

Harry hummed to himself as he read more. Frankly, the book didn't tell how to do occlumency or legilimency but he tried to remember what Snape had taught him about it, no matter how obscure it was. Clear the mind of thoughts and emotions… Harry thought back how he closed his mind and connection from Voldemort when they were on the run… How does one empty one's mind?

Harry was startled when Hedwig let out a sharp chirp. The bird was looking angry at Harry and he figured that she was hungry… When he looked at the clock, it's already half past two in the afternoon, how long was he lost in his thought… but he wasn't lost in his thought was he?

Harry's eyes widened. He just successfully cleared his mind for a bit—maybe, meditation could help him!