Chapter Text
Harry POV
Harry awoke to a tickle on his face. He let no reaction fall upon his face, unknowing who or what would await him should he let them know he was awake.
He listened to his surroundings for a long moment, careful to keep his breathing even.
Footsteps. Distant, maybe one or two rooms over given how faded they sounded.
Clashing. It sounded like metal. What?
Not hearing anyone close enough to see his movements, Harry let his eyes slip open. It was dark but...
Oh
Oh
He knew this place. He had slept here for ten years after all.
The cupboard under the stairs.
An emphatic “Fuck” left his mouth
In the midst of his panic, Harry hadn’t heard the footsteps draw closer, and let out a shrill, short shriek as his cupboard door was pounded on.
Luckily for him his lapse in awareness was covered by his aunt Petunias even shriller shriek of “Boy”
Another bang on his door “Up. Up. It’s my little Diddykins last week in year three and breakfast is going to be perfect”
Another bang. The slide of the latch.
For once in his life Harry was glad to be locked in his cupboard, as no one was around to see the incredulous snort he had let out at the though of Dudley ever being considered little.
It was then that the situation hit him. He was at the Dursley’s house. That he hadn’t been to in twenty years.
He was in his cupboard. Which he hadn’t been in since he received his Hogwarts letter when he was ten.
Dudley was finishing year three. Harry was in the same year as him.
He was a kid again.
Harry decided to play normal whilst he was figuring out a plan. Hopefully Ron and Hermione had made it out okay and were here with him. He didn’t think he could do this without them. No, he knew he couldn’t.
Harry sat up with a grumble, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before fumbling around behind him for his glasses.
He braced himself as he opened the cupboard door, knowing he would have no peace as soon as he left.
He observed the space around him as he made his way into the kitchen. Everything so much bigger than the last time he was here, yet nothing had changed except the age of the photographed Dudley’s smattered on the walls.
Harry made his way over to the stove, ingrained instincts already taking over to make a feast for the Dursley family’s breakfast.
His thoughts wondered as he cooked. He needed to contact his friends somehow, he didn’t have access to an owl, and he couldn’t remember the grangers number from this time, which meant for now he was alone. Just like when he was actually a child.
Even more important than that, he thought as the pounding footsteps of Uncle Vernon reached his ears, was getting as far away from this place as possible, blood wards or no.
Ron POV
Ron Weasley woke to the smell of cooking bacon and the sound of his mother calling the family down for breakfast.
His eyebrows drew together, and a frown found its way upon his face. I don’t remember coming to the burrow. In fact, the last thing he could remember was…
He shot up. Harry. Hermione. The ministry. The memories came back in a flood.
Eyes wide, his head whipped around the room. This was definitely his room, but it wasn’t his room, his room hadn’t looked like this for decades.
Hoping they had just been returned to their teenage bodies instead of popping out the veil fully formed like they planned, Ron got out of bed to make his way towards the mirror.
Thud. Ron groaned in pain and reached for bruising nose. “Don’t remember the floor being that close” he grumbled.
He picked himself up with a scowl, slowly making his way to the mirror, knowing he wouldn’t like what he would see.
Staring back at his slightly bruised, eight-year-old face, he sighed “Shoulda known it wouldn’t go according to plan”
While inspecting his face he noticed something off, and not just the bruise spreading across his nose. Leaning closer, he realised it was his eyes , they weren’t as blue as he remembered them being, turning this way and that he saw that they looked a bright green in certain light. He ran his hand through his hair and stopped short. His hair didn’t used to be this thick, why on earth would his features change, he didn’t think that would be a side effect of time travel, how odd.
He pulled himself away from the mirror when he heard his mother calling his name. Time to face the music, he thought sorrowfully.
He slowly made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, postponing the inevitable. As he made it to the last step, his mothers cheerful face popped into view “Good morning, Ron, breakfast us on the table, best get to it before the rabble take it all” she whispered conspiringly.
“Um yeah right” he looked towards the floor, taking his seat at the table.
His head shot up when a mischievous voice in front of him exclaimed “Ronniekins! Try and make friends with the ghoul this morning? Looking a bit bruised.”
George. He hadn’t seen George this cheerful since the battle… since Fred. Wait.
“FRED GIDEON WEASLEY, COME DOWN HERE NOW AND LEAVE PERCY ALONE”
Looking around, Ron noticed that they were the only two missing from the table. He turned around in a daze when the stampede running down the stairs ended. There he was, Fred. Still young and joyful, not yet weighed down by the horrors of a war.
Another body followed behind him slightly out of breath. Ron barely recognised him so young, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he was certain it was Percy, no one else could mimic that poncey tone.
“Mother, Fred took Scabbers. He won’t give him back”
His mothers reply was drowned out by the horror running through his mind as he turned to look at Freds hands, and yep. There it was one rat missing a toe.
Well, that’s first on the list to deal with, I guess.
Hermione POV
Hermione woke to an incessant beeping sound. Scrunching her face up in annoyance, she opened her eyes to find the source of the sound.
Her eyes widened as she recognised her surroundings, she hadn’t seen this room with that bright pink paint since she was nine.
A light tapping on her door drew her from her observations, the door creeped open, and she couldn’t hold in her gasp.
“Hermione, what’s wrong?”
Her lips trembled and a tear ran down her cheek. “Papa” she whispered, she hadn’t seen him or her mother since she sent them to Australia. She’d gone to try and restore their memories shortly after the war had ended, but nothing they tried had worked. No charm, no rune, no ritual, no potion. That was when she started to live with Harry in Grimmauld place, not wanting to be alone, but not being able to stand the large Weasley family.
She leapt out of bed and ran into his legs, wrapping her arms around his middle.
Her father let out an oof as she ran into him “did you have a bad dream, Sweetheart?”
She let herself weep for a moment longer, giving herself time to concoct a plan. Her first step would be to ensure that she wasn’t here alone, she needed to make sure her boys were okay. She knew she couldn’t contact Ron without an owl, but if her calculations were correct, then she had around two years to wait until she would be introduced to the wizarding world. Too long.
She could find Harrys home phone in the yellow pages; she knew the address so it would be easy enough to look up. However, she also knew what his relatives were like, calling and trying to speak to Harry was likely to get him in trouble, and she couldn’t do that to him.
She needed an owl. She needed an owl so she could contact Ron and she couldn’t wait two years.
She let a watery smile cross her face as she looked into her father’s eyes, plan made. “I’m okay now Papa, I just had a dream that you a Mama had forgotten me”
The man let out a small chuckle a ruffled her hair, “don’t be silly, my darling daughter, we could never forget you.”
Hermione forced the smile to stay on her face “I know”.
“Then you, have to get ready for school, we need to leave in an hour” He retreated from her room and before he softly closed the door behind him, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of pink around his head. Probably nothing.
I need to get ready.