Chapter Text
Harry was sore all over. His head ached and his bones protested at any movement he made. His thoughts were jumbled around, his mind scattered. Sitting up he groaned as his body protested at the movement. He didn’t know where he was, and the memories of what had happened were starting to resurface.
Voldemort, or Quirrelmort had tried to get the Philosopher's stone. There was some tasks he and his friends went through then-
He froze as realization creeped up on him. He had destroyed one of the most prized possessions to a well known wizard. And on top of that he had killed someone. Sure, Quirrell had been hosting the dark lord, but that didn't immediately sentence him to death.
Harry suddenly felt very sick and he leaned over the bed and wretched. Nothing came out but he shut his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the image of Quirrell disintegrating under his touch, the pained screams as he was burned by his hands. Harry gripped onto the white bedsheets of his bed in what he assumed to be the hospital wings as he attempted to calm himself down.
He was freezing, cold ebbing through his body, weeding its way through his bones. But at the same time he was hot, a burning heat trying to eat him up from the inside out. He shivered feverishly as he sat up in the hospital bed, he had to distract himself somehow.
Deciding to look around, he took in the grey marble walls that surrounded him. The hospital wing was cold, very cold and it seemed to be in the middle of the night judging by the darkness outside the windows.
His skin pricked uncomfortably at any movement he made, everything seeming to be too much. He hated it, he hated what had happened and how he was the one who had to solve it.
As soon as that thought crossed his mind a white hot pain erupted from his scar. Harry cried out in shock, clawing at his forehead desperately to relieve himself from the pain. But it overwhelmed his senses and he could feel himself blacking out. In one last desperate attempt, he tried to call out. But it was too late and he fell backwards into his pillows as he was overtaken with darkness.
Several hours later, in the morning, Harry Potter woke with a shout. His eyes wide as he whipped around, eyes darting along the walls as he seemed to be looking for something. The young boy's face was scrunched up in confusion and anxiety as his mind reeled with the new information that was thrust upon him. For when he passed out, memories that he should not have yet made themselves known. Years worth of memories within the Hogwarts castle, with his friends from Gryffindor, with people he had not yet met.
He had a lot of fixing to do if this new information was any clue on what was to come, and he had no intention of letting things play out like they did once before. He owed that much to his future self.