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Summary
Harry Potter has been dead before.
He doesn't recommend it.
Waking up in 1980 is marginally better, even if he is currently small enough to be carried under one arm and incapable of properly pronouncing the word fuck.
Still.
Lily is alive.
James is alive.
Sirius can be saved.
Peter Pettigrew can be dealt with.
And Albus Dumbledore—
Well.
Harry has plans for Albus Dumbledore.
Everything might have remained relatively manageable if, several years later, Harry hadn't found one of Voldemort's Horcruxes and asked himself a very simple question:
Could I put him back together?
The answer, unfortunately for everyone involved, is yes.
Or:
In which Harry Potter travels back in time, weaponises bureaucracy, accidentally acquires several Slytherins, resurrects a Dark Lord, and spends an unreasonable amount of time pretending none of this is his fault.
Tom Riddle would like to know who brought him back from the dead.
Harry is more than happy to help him investigate.