8Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter there would be lot more chapters featuring a shirtless Ron Weasley. Considering there was a horrible lack of Ron's torso, I can say I do not own Harry Potter.
Harry J. Potter? As in my dad, Harry J. Potter? What the Hell was going on? None of this made any sense to Albus. For one, this was all Hogwarts paraphernalia. His father was most certainly not in Hogwarts anymore. The only places where belongings of his relating to his student years were either locked in his office or buried deep in the attic; and this was most definitely not one of the aforementioned rooms. Albus was lucky he was bright, for this was most puzzling. He was a Ravenclaw and this is what Ravenclaws were trained to do. To figure things out with intellectual reasoning, to solve problems logically, no problem. Thing is, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around his situation. The only explanation he could come up with was worthy of his Godmother, Luna Scamander's. Just to be sure… The raven-haired youth spotted something yellow and crinkled in the corner, which turned out to be a clump of Post-It-Notes. He shuffled through them and paled drastically. Dates were scribbled down along with tallies, as if counting down the days. But why? Why would there be need for that? Then he read the year. And re-read it, and re-read it again… because he couldn't comprehend the significance of those four digits.
1995
This wasn't true; Albus knew that, it was foolish to accept this as fact. For the year was 1920 (A/N I think it would be that…) that much was clear to everyone. Which means there was no reason to believe the Post-Its, no reason to worry, because this was all some big misunder-
Oh who are you kidding Al? Even you know that you've been sent back in time, so stop lying to yourself, it isn't becoming of you. Albus breathed deeply and plopped down on the desk chair which creaked under his weight. Why was he in the past though? Surely this wasn't normal, even by wizard standards. Messing with time was dangerous, and could very well ensnare him in a paradox if he wasn't careful. Everybody he knew, knew that. This isn't a joke. This can't be a joke because theres nothing funny about it. Nobody can gain anything from this, accept possibly revenge, but the emerald-eyed boy could place someone who would feel malice this strong against him. Unless the revenge wasn't aimed at him.
Dad!
Where was his father? Al theorized that maybe he just wasn't in the room at the present or more likely, had swapped time periods with Albus. Mentally crossing his fingers, the young Potter hoped that his parent didn't just evaporate into thin air. He couldn't focus on that now. What he needed to concentrate on was getting back to his own time, but for that he would need the assistance of someone he knew and trusted. Then, at least, he could have some company during all of this. Who would trust him though? There were the Weasleys and family friends, but if his calculations were correct they would be on the brink of war right about now. The Weasleys were the biggest blood traitors of them all, and their friends weren't exactly cozy with the other side. Besides, why would they trust him?
There was a sharp rapping on the door along with an unpleasantly high voice shrieking at him to wake up and cook breakfast. No, the voice wasn't telling him. It was most likely ordering his dad. Deciding to play along with everything until he could come up with a plan, Albus slid his father's glasses on, pulled on a pair of baggy jeans and an over-large crimson t-shirt belonging to his father and stepped out onto the landing (the door found unlocked). His vision was blurry as he had inherited his mum's 20/20 vision and the prescription glasses weren't meant for him. No one was downstairs yet, and he found it eerily quiet. Albus wasn't used to silence, what with having the family he had and sharing a dorm with the people he did. Neither of which were soft spoken.
Lucky for Al he knew how to cook; if he'd been unfortunate enough to share his mum's skill like James did the house would've been burnt down. Remembering seeing pictures of his father's cousin as a child and the fact that his dad lived with his aunt and uncle throughout childhood Albus made sure to plenty of food. Almost as soon as the youth finished loading the pancakes onto a large plate on the table did an obese blonde boy lumber down the stairs. A blissful look on his pink face, he wafted into the kitchen and plopped down in a chair, nearly snapping it under his weight. He was followed shortly by a large man with a walrus mustache and a bony woman with watery eyes. They all seated themselves at the table, not even bothering to thank him or acknowledge him in anyway.
The middle Potter child didn't know who the walrus mustache man was; it only came to him as he was cleaning the tabletop after breakfast was done that it was his Great Uncle Vernon, who had died from heart failure before he was born. The bony woman was probably his Great Aunt Petunia; Albus had seen her once before, when his family visited his Cousin Dudley and his family. He had only been six at the time and only remembered how quiet she was during the visit. Cousin Dudley was very different. The man Albus remembered was muscular, not fat, and broad shouldered. He had a bushy mustache and close cropped hair, but his blue eyes were warmer than they are now. The Cousin Dudley he knew wasn't spoiled or pig-like or anything of the sort.
This time period is weird. Albus wondered how different everyone else he knew was. He just hoped they were nicer, the Dursleys shoved him back into his father's bedroom as soon as he was done cleaning the kitchen and locked the door quite unnecessarily behind him. His stomach rumbled as he lay on his bed and he wondered why he didn't sneak anything to eat. 'C'mon Al, there was a bleeding cat flap on the door with bulking locks to match' he thought 'what does that tell you?' An idiot in Ravenclaw, that's what he was. When a can of cold soup was pushed through the flap he almost drained the entire thing before remembering the owl in the room. He couldn't remember her name, his dad had never mentioned her before, but Albus tipped the rest of it into her cage through the bars anyway. He hated seeing creatures suffer. She gave him a look that he pointedly ignored. Since when did owls have attitude?
For the next week or so his days followed a similar pattern. He would wake up, cook breakfast, was locked in the bedroom, make lunch, locked up again, dinner, and locked up once more… It wasn't very interesting. He hadn't gotten the chance to escape and the owl's cage was locked after all, so no letters could be sent. Albus wondered if anyone was looking for him, concerned about his disappearance. Did he disappear? Could it be that when he returns, it would be only moments after he left? This was all so confusing; Time was one of the most complex regions of magic. No one has ever mastered it. So was would he, a thirteen year old boy, be able to decipher it?
He was lying spread-eagled on the bed, staring emptily at the ceiling, when the locks started to click and slide and shake. The door was swung open forcefully, the flap on the door swinging madly. Vernon Dursley stood there scowling and announced,
"We're going out" Albus chose not to answer, he knew that if he did only sarcasm would leak from his tongue "Us meaning, Petunia, Dudley, and I" he continued as if rubbing the fact in Albus' face "We're going to a lawn competition" Vernon said proudly, after no response he grunted and started muttering to himself. As he slammed the door shut Al couldn't sworn he heard "No good freaks… No appreciation…" What a wonderful person! Al couldn't believe they were so dense that they hadn't realized that he wasn't their nephew yet. Then again, they didn't seem the brightest people.
The emerald-eyed boy remained in his position for another hour or two. He was about to close his eyes, his mind groggy, his eyelids heavy…
CRASH
A/N Sorry my chapters are so short :( What do you think so far? Comments, suggestions? Please review, it makes me smile. Even if you tell me my story is a load of rubbish I'll still smile, just because you bothered with pressing the button :) I forget how the Dursleys treated Harry in fifth year, so if the facts are wrong then… I meant to do that :D