Red dragon

chapter 2

June 1st 1991

Harry jolted; he felt a physical ache in every inch of his body. Memories flooded in rushes. Harry wasn't sure how but something was different. He opened his eyes; as if ending a blink. It didn't feel like his eyes were closed for even a full second.

Harry couldn't breathe, he was in the garden of Privet Drive. There was a trowel on the floor beneath him and pulled weeds around.

It took Harry a moment. He reached through every memory he had, the war and Voldemort. His hands were smaller than he could ever really remember them being. The killing curse. The garden he had hated for years.

"The time turner." Harry gasped. Could it be possible that he had moved back in time; or maybe forward, but he doubted that. Privet drive had been burned down a long time ago and now Harry was - once again- weeding the begonias.

His hands moved automatically weeding the plants. He needed to think and it wouldn't do to be completely idleideal. It never helped him think, only worry.

This could be a dream or a nightmare, a hallucination. The dark lord could have done something to him; but after all that he had been through he doubted it. Voldemort just wanted to finish it as much as he did. He wanted to win.

"Boy, hurry up with those weeds, I want to eat sometime today." Called his uncle ruling out the dream part of his theory.

"Yes Uncle." Harry shouted back, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice; Harry couldn't stand the man. Harry weeded the garden and wished that Hermione was still alive; he would love to ask her what she thought.

As Harry entered the kitchen his eyes trained on the calendar. It was June 1991. Something that before magic Harry would have claimed to be impossible. His mind moved through everything; the time turner couldn't have done this. It could barely move a few hours. Ten years was impossible.

"Why aren't you cooking Boy?" Vernon stood in the kitchen ready to stand over the boy.

Harry stalled a moment before deciding on the path of least resistance; at least for now. "What would you like uncle?" It was only until he figured out what was going on.

Harry spent many days back in Privet drive and nothing had changed. He missed the older Dudley; they had become not quite friends but they had gained a mutual respect.

He needed to keep a low profile, think through what had a happened. Figure out what the hell he was going to do next.

Nights back in his cupboard were the hardest. His memories of the war, of his past life, were clouded and faint but they were enough to give him nightmares. However, there was a confusion in these nightmares. The memories passed in front of his eyes but the emotions didn't tear at his heart the way they once did. It was like a memory of a film rather than a memory of his own pain.

Days then began to turn into weeks and weeks turned into June twenty third. Dudley's birthday. This time however he felt genuinely sorry for Mrs Figg and her broken ankle. She was a kind woman who only wanted what was best for him.

"I could go and help her." Harry suggested, he wasn't eager to go to the zoo with his cousin. That damned snake was better locked up. "Make tea for her, I'm sure. I don't want to ruin Dudley's birthday."