Chapter 1: The Veil Claims Sirius Black

Late Evening

He was sprinting as fast as his body would carry him, but it wasn't fast enough. The sickly, green Killing Curse slammed into Sirius. As he helplessly watched his godfather's body topple into the veil, a red mist clouded his vision.

He chased Bellatrix, cursing her again and again in exhilaration until he was face to face with Riddle and the many masked followers who'd accompanied him.

A flash from his left caught his attention as Dumbledore appeared on the scene. Harry internally rejoiced; Dumbledore had come to end this. From behind him, where Harry had come in from, footsteps sounded. His friends and the Order of the Phoenix had already dispatched the Death Eaters in the initial wave.

"Hermio-!" Harry called out only for a curse to narrowly miss him. Immediately, he ran towards Dumbledore, dodging a multitude of curses from all sides until he slid to a stop near the Headmaster. Finally feeling safe and with the curses having ceased, he looked to the figures who'd been cursing after him and was terrified to see that it was almost another dozen masked figures.

Shocked and in a rage, he began firing off curses towards the masked figures.

"Bombarda! Expelliarmus! Bombarda!" His aim was true and he watched in a sick satisfaction as his first volley was almost upon a nonmoving target.

Movement from behind pulled his attention, Riddle had raised his wand lazily but said nothing. Harry turned back towards his targets, hoping to see them scattering in panic from his spellfire only to see not one of his spells had done anything and worse, a bright shield had appeared in front of them.

"Harry Potter," Tom called out, as Dumbledore stood by, seemingly frozen - why hadn't the Headmaster done anything so far?

Harry confidently raised his wand towards the monster who'd taken so much from him. He was ready for whatever was coming.

"It's time," Tom spoke again, this time with a small upturn of his lips as the air around Harry lit up with magic.

Dozens of spells landed around and on him, so quick and in such a high quantity that no amount of dodging or shielding would've saved him. Harry was bound, gagged, stunned, and bleeding before his mind could even comprehend what had happened.

Voldemort was suddenly all he could see as the man raised his wand against his forehead.

"A pity, truly. Under my tutelage, you could have been one of my greatest successes." With a sigh, the man spoke the words of death, and a familiar green glow enveloped Harry as he heard Dumbledore shouting ever so faintly.

? ?, ?

He was alone in an endless void. There was nothing save for darkness, and then, there was a figure that came from that darkness. It spoke to him, but he couldn't register what it was saying. Harry replied to it too, but much the same as the words that were spoken to him, he couldn't tell what he said.

It moved closer to him with a sudden aggressiveness, and before he react, it tapped his head.

Harry jolted upwards, gasping out 'Dumbledore' as he wildly took in his surroundings.

Voldemort had killed him, that thing in the void had done something to him too - so, why had he woken up in a bed? He saw the curse and heard the words!

His breathing grew erratic and his thoughts filled with the loss of Sirius more so than worrying of his own death. Thinking of his fallen godfather only sent his chest rising and falling uncontrollably and in a worse manner than thinking solely of his death; that continued for minutes before he finally calmed down enough to register the aforementioned surroundings of the room he'd roused in.

He was in an extremely regal-looking room, with large glass windows, beautiful artwork; and furniture that looked as if it was custom-made to fit the exact style of the room he was in. After just a moment, he flung the amazingly comfortable sheets from his sweaty body and crept towards the door. At the door, he pressed his ear against it and steadied his breathing as best as possible, hoping to hear anything to act as a clue regarding his current whereabouts.

Silence greeted him, the loudest silence he'd ever heard in his life. Not even ambient sounds of cars, planes or the overly loud voices from the Dursleys greeted him!

Harry had two choices that he thought over, he could open the door and call out for anybody. This would of course draw the owner, caretaker or whoever was responsible for his presence to him, the bad aspect of doing this was he could be alerting a captor of his rousing.

His second option was to as quietly as possible open the door and begin checking room after room until he found a person. He'd then see if he could recognize the face, but should nobody be present, he could find information about the people he was staying with via family photos or a family crest.

Quicker than most would have made the decision, Harry stood tall and pulled open the door as loudly as possible. He then yelled loudly. "Anybody!?"

As soon as the word was out of his mouth a pop sounded from behind him.

"Master Peverell! My name bes Laddey! I heard you be calling for me, sir. What can I be doing for you, sir?"

Harry whirled about, bringing a hand up to stop his glasses from getting knocked askew or flung off… wait. He used both hands and ran them across his face for any trace of his glasses, but there was nothing. Somehow, rather somehow with magic, his eyesight was normal. It was deeply unsettling even though he should be ecstatic if anything as it would make blending in easier now that everybody wouldn't be looking for glasses and a scar.

"Master Peverell, sir? Yous do be needing something don't yous, sir?" Laddey as he was called asked with a slight tug at the wizard's robes.

Roused from his mind, Harry nodded emphatically. "Yes. I have several questions for you. Let's start with my name, why are you calling me 'Master Peverel, Laddey?"

"Yous be the Head of House Peverell, sir! Yous be purchasing a number of us yesterday fors your family home!" Laddey spoke so fast and animatedly that his giant ears flopped around like two giant wings.

Harry was more confused now than before having asked the question but evidently, this elf knew little more than he did.

"So this is my home then," Harry said, looking towards the diminutive creature for confirmation, which was quickly given. "I see. Does anyone else live here?"

Laddey answered a loud "Nos, sir! Yous be telling us that you were alone and not to bes worrying about cleaning the guest rooms."

He let loose a breath that he'd been holding as soon as he finished asking his question. Harry didn't know if being alone was good or bad for him, but at the very least he needn't worry about having to make excuses for friends or family.

"Carry on cleaning the - wait, take me to the floo; I need to get to Diagon Alley." He needed to find Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Of courses, sir!" Laddey said as he grabbed Harry's robes.

Moments later, Harry was at his floo access.

"Thank you, Laddey, just one more thing. I require my vault key." Harry took a leap at this one. If he were dreaming or this was all an elaborate plan to lure him in, he was certain some sort of stumble would happen. For this very reason, he was incredibly shocked when the elf blinked away and then back within a few seconds with a large key in his small hands.

"Heres you go, sir! It was safely tucked aways in your office safes sir." Laddey then blinked away once Harry dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The vault key in his hand was incredibly ornate. It had large runic (or so he assumed them to be) carvings, the Peverell family coat of arms, gold tracings, and words in beautifully written Latin.

Distracting him from fully appreciating the beauty of the key, however, was the comically large size of it in his hand. It looked to be decades old; this would serve to be another question for him on a list that was quickly growing. Tucking it away in his left pocket, Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder as he intoned 'Diagon Alley.'

A quick pull and away he was, stumbling through the floo onto a rug that let out a cloud of dust on his arrival… he would have to get better at that eventually, he thought he had too… maybe it was that stupid headache still wearing on him.

Harry coughed and wiped his watering eyes as he looked around and exited his thoughts - he appeared to be in an downtrodden and otherwise unremarkable shop. He wasn't trying to put it down with that description either; rather, the shop simply screamed neglect based on the odd positions of items that were strewn about with no particular order. All the dust, crumpled rugs, and smell of animal urine didn't help, though Harry supposed not much could be done considering the structure itself was all twisted about too.

"Ahem." someone cleared their throat from his left. "What are you doing down on the ground, boy? Haven't you been taught how to floo at your age? I swear you young folks are terrible at anything that isn't blatantly laid out for you! Goodness, I remember…" Harry slowly tuned out the voice of the old man as he brushed himself off and took in the… well he wasn't quite sure what it was. Some people would call it a shop but it was more like a junkyard than anything. Various items from brooms to furniture were all set about haphazardly while they were all in some form of decay.

"… even that Dumbledore fellow! Terrible he was, always acting like a menace for us Professors back in my day! This one ti-" Harry had heard what he wanted to. Dumbledore was around! Finally, he could get answers from somebody who knew something rather than a house-elf.

He cut off the old man speaking. "Headmaster Dumbledore? Albus Dumbledore?"

Said old man scoffed at Harry, appearing angry to have been cut off but answering the young wizard nonetheless. "Deputy Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, aye. He's a right terror I tell you! Now back to my story, Albu-"

A bell rang as what sounded like a heavy door was pushed open. Harry turned in the direction of the sound and saw a tall, portly man entering the shop with a warm disarming smile on his face. "Rodger you old bat! I hear you have the most interesting-" the man stopped speaking and took in Harry with what he could only describe as the most calculating gaze he'd ever seen. It was as if the man's eyes were asking him just how much he was worth. "-guest. Why, who are you my boy? I don't think I've seen you before and I daresay I know every student at Hogwarts!

Thinking on the fly, Harry gave the only name he could think of; the one he'd already been called since coming back.

"I'm Harry Peverell sir, it's an honour to meet you."

Immediately after saying his last name, the man's eyes bugged out and he had an almost savage look settle upon his face. "Horace Slughorn, how fortunate to meet you Mister Peverell."

Harry dipped his head, then gave a disarming smile to the man who didn't seem to notice, as he was too caught up thinking aloud.

"Oh, this day is most definitely going to be a good one. Come come lad, we'll be going out for lunch, you must be famished surely - Rodger, I'll catch up with you and Miss Levleper later; hopefully with my French in a better state!" Harry then found himself being dragged from the shop as the man called over his shoulder, "I'll be back sometime later Rodger, be sure to give your regards to your father for me."

Upon his immediate removal from the shop, Harry found himself thrust into a world eerily similar but startlingly different.

It was Diagon Alley alright… if Diagon Alley had countless more shops, dozens more people strolling about and even weirder clothes than they did back when he'd been in his year rather than whatever past or alternate reality magic had taken him to. From shops that were as specific as selling only specially crafted wooden chairs to restaurants of vary reputable quality based on the visitors queued; all sorts of buildings existed in an alley he was intimately familiar with that he'd never seen before.

Jarring as it was, Harry could tell based on certain lacking of amenities that he had to be decades back at the least, though just how far would elude him… did he ask Slughorn the year and risk seeming like some sort of imbecile? No, at least not yet, there had to be a better way of getting that answer without seeming too out of place.

Rather than speaking to the huffing man from the pace they were going, Harry allowed himself to be sped along the many paths of Diagon Alley - some of which didn't exist from his memories - and all the while, he took in countless more shops, different Auror's robes and a much more populated, thriving community than the one he'd first seen when visiting with Hagrid.

All the spectacles and activity really made him wonder what happened, though he supposed he knew if they'd not gone through the Great War or the Second World War; as young as he'd been when he last attended muggle school, he still remembered how high the cost of life was.

Harry's attention was switched from his mind to a loud, hostile and distraught crowd when they'd turned the 'second to last' corner as Slughorn had said in an out of breath tone.

Yells of 'Murderer!' or 'Devil!' were at the forefront of the crowd, and it was only when silence at the behest of a man standing on a balcony fell that Harry found out why, for the man screamed loudly with a charm to be heard all throughout Diagon Alley just what'd happened.

"Grindelwald has committed another violent massacre on our friends, no, our families, across the channel! Hundreds of magicals like ourselves were burned, blown apart or otherwise captured pending execution by the man who swears he's fighting for our rights!" MurmurS from the crowd grew as onlookers joined to actively whisper to their fellows, the attention the man was drawing growing, "Yes, you heard it! Grindelwald, the evil man that he is, wiped an entire French magical community out with but a dozen strokes of his wand! Many of you likely lost relatives, distant or otherwise, from this barbarity ! What does…"

Slughorn, the man having stopped to listen alongside Harry, then began pulling them at a quicker speed than he'd yet taken until they were around the last corner and twenty feet from the entrance of the restaurant the man had spoken of.

"Best we be getting on in before another of those pro-war riots strike lad," Was all Slughorn said before leading them into the high-class restaurant that hadn't been around the last time he could remember, for surely he would remember the name 'Slugs, Butlers and Worths cuisine.'

Not a second went by from the duos entering when they were greeted by a younger, admittedly attractive young witch - Harry didn't think she looked at all familiar to anyone he knew, neither did her voice seem similar to any he'd heard.

"Professor Slughorn. Reservations for two I take it?" A young woman behind the counter asked as the two men entered.

"Not this time dear, I dare hope that won't be a problem though?" Harry could hear how the man's voice turned so dangerously polite as if a muggle light switch had just been flipped - it was startling.

"O-Of course not sir!" The young woman then motioned towards a floating quill which darted towards some parchment as something was crossed out. "Right. Follow me, Professor."

Harry found himself dragged again until he was dumped into a seat across from Professor Slughorn with two menus dropped onto the table in front of them. Before he could even reach out to open it he found himself being questioned.

"Peverell. I dare say nobody ever thought they'd hear that name again. Tell me, where has your family been my boy?" Professor Slughorn inquired with a casual, polite smile on his face. His eyes conveyed an entirely different message however, they were just as sharp as Dumbledore's had ever been in his serious moments, if not more so.

"Australia sir, in the outback. We were living a life of solitude amongst the local muggles so we could avoid the spotlight." Luckily, Harry had been good at geography, but he knew for a fact his accent didn't match that of an Australian.

"I see." Harry looked towards the man as he answered and saw the wide smile on his face. Before he could speak again the man did.

"My boy. I've met many Australian wizards and witches, their accent you most definitely do not have. Your business is of course just that, but I like to think of myself as a friend to those like yourself. I can sense the talent and power you have, oh so very much of both. Tell me, are you attending Hogwarts now that you seem to be out of wherever it was you'd been?" Slughorn leaned forward and fixed Harry with a piercing gaze as he awaited the boy's answer.

"Thank you, sir, for the compliment. I don't believe I will be, I've only been here recently you see and I'm not sure how long I'll be around. I doubt Hogwarts would even accept me." Harry was hopeful that would suffice, though based on the look this man was giving him, it was far from such a thing.

"Far be it from me to meddle, but I have no doubt Hogwarts would accept you with open arms, especially given your family and regardless of the duration of your stay. In fact, would you mind terribly if I were to begin your enrollment?" This man was relentless.

Harry was about to politely decline before he thought better of it. Something in his mind was urging him to accept, despite the lack of information on where exactly he was, he knew well enough that he had gone somewhere in the past; he just wasn't sure how far.

"I suppose I'll accept then sir. Could I bother you for the exact date Hogwarts begins? I fear I'll have much to do beforehand."

With an unsettling smile, Slughorn replied. "Of course my boy, of course. It's the first of September, 1943, only a couple days away." the man then scratched his chin as he looked at Harry. "I must be getting older than I thought, I never thought to ask you for your age."

"Thank you sir, and I'm sixteen."

The waitress came back shortly after he finished and took their orders, looking at Harry for a few moments longer than would be considered polite. Slughorn didn't seem to notice it at least, the man's attention had stayed on him ever since they met, he seemed to have a one-track mind. As soon as the woman roused herself from staring at Harry and left, Slughorn spoke again with a pensive but eager look to him.

"Sixth year would fit your age, yes, but you've not done your OWLs… Fifth year for you then. You'll be among some of the brightest, most promising people of the age, I dare say you'll give even Miss Riddle a run for her money." With the mention of Riddle's name, Harry's blood ran cold.

Riddle! Wait, Miss Riddle? Perhaps Tom had a sister? But this couldn't be the past if he had a sister, it would have to be something else altogether. Harry was thoroughly stumped and was inwardly cursing. If only Hermione was here, she'd understand exactly what was happening.

Slughorn picked up on the panic that flashed across Harry's face and tilted his head in curiosity. "Do you know anybody currently attending?"

Unable to speak from the pure confusion and worry, Harry shook his head in the negative. He didn't trust his voice quite yet after the bomb that's just been dropped.

"Have no worries then, I'm sure many of the right sorts will reach out to you. If you don't mind my asking, where is it you're staying? No doubt we'll need to owl a few times quite quickly for your enrollment into Hogwarts." Slughorn again leaned forward, he acted as nonchalant as ever but Harry knew the man was fishing for any information he could get.

"Laddey," Harry called out, the small house elf appearing a few seconds later.

"Yous be calling me Master Peverell?" Laddey asked energetically, only briefly looking at the giant of a man that was Professor Slughorn.

Harry turned to Slughorn and spoke. "Would you be opposed to having Laddey act as a courier? I'm sure he'd be much quicker than any owls we'd have to send so close to Hogwarts starting."

Only appearing slightly displeased for a moment, Slughorn let out a big-bellied laugh. "It'd be no problem, my boy, none at all. Now I must be going, lest I lose out on some very fine ingredients that I've bid on. Do keep an eye out for my letter."

"Thank you Laddey, I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be calling for you before too long. That'll be all now." Harry dismissed the elf before it began getting too inquisitive in such a public place.

Professor Slughorn then stood up once the elf was dismissed and deposited a few Galleons on the table. With one more wide smile, he hurried away quite quickly for a man of his size.

Harry watched him exit the restaurant and slouched in his seat once he was sure the man had gone. Barely halfway through his first day here, wherever 'here' was, he'd managed to get himself enrolled in Hogwarts again. If he were as far back as he currently thought, there'd be not a single person he could speak with. Even if this was his past, which he highly doubted with the few changes he'd seen thus far, who would believe him?

"Your food Mister…" Harry looked up and saw the waitress with the food they'd ordered before.

"Peverell. Thank you, Miss?" He snickered to himself at the clear surprise on the girl's face. She stuttered out a response of 'Sarah Goldhorn' and all but flew away after she left the food on the table.

Harry laughed at her hasty retreat and spoke softly to himself. "That'll never get old."

He began digging into the dish Professor Slughorn suggested, it was a French dish of chicken in some sort of sauce he couldn't place with a grilled potato which tasted remarkable. Undoubtedly he'd be back here again. Once he finished, he made sure the money Professor Slughorn left was enough and then made his exit. There was still plenty to do but perhaps he should head home for the day to better learn about the house this future had him placed in. Then again, that was hoping that his home had any information to give him.

Having made up his mind, he stood up and walked over to Miss Goldhorn. "It was brilliant, thank you, Miss Goldhorn."

With a small blush on her cheeks, the girl replied. "Thank you, Mister Peverell." he made to leave thinking the exchange was over, but the girl squeaked something that he couldn't make out.

"I'm sorry?" Hopefully, she meant that for him and he wasn't acting a fool.

"Will you be attending Hogwarts when it starts in a couple of days?" Thankfully, she did mean to speak to him. Her squeak reminded him of how he was with Cho.

"It appears so, Professor Slughorn will be personally seeing to my attendance. What year and house are you in?" He rather enjoyed the shock that crossed her face again.

"I'm in Huff-"

"Sarah Suzanne Goldhorn! No mingling with your classmates while you're working! Mister Albrick is still waiting for his butterbeer and Mister Worthington has yet to get his menu, now get a move on, girl!" Harry turned to the voice of the woman yelling at Sarah and saw a middle-aged looking woman with a very stern expression dressed in very traditional clothing.

"Sorry Mister Peverell, I'll look for you on the train!" Sarah then tore off towards an older man in one of the corners of the room.

With a sigh, Harry exited the building and began walking around Diagon Alley, taking in the many businesses that hadn't existed when he was around and taking in the busier streets. It was odd to him that Diagon Alley seemed busier now in the forties than it was in the nineties, he would admit to that his knowledge on history was quite severely lacking. Having seen what he wanted, Harry ducked into an Alley and called for Laddey.

"Take me home." It was a simple command that the elf followed through with amazing speed.

"Is there be anything else yous be wanting Master Peverell?"

"Come to me immediately after Professor Slughorn hands his letter off to you, otherwise, I'd like to be undisturbed in the study; unless we have a library you could show me to."

Harry was surprised, though in hindsight he probably shouldn't have been considering the day, to find that this home came with a library so large it required multiple floors which were undoubtedly expanded many times over. It could even have rivalled Hogwarts library he reckoned, though nothing was restricted to him. He suddenly found himself exceedingly alone as he thought how happy Hermione would be to find such a room; or how annoyed Ron would be. Why had he been brought here and nobody else?

As quickly as the bout of emotion came, it went. Harry shook himself straight and took a deep breath followed by another and more, eventually calming himself as he began looking for any information he could find on his family.

Hours would go by with him finding not a single thing about his new house, not to say he didn't find dozens of very interesting books; some of which were surely illegal, of that he had no doubt. As more time passed with this happening, he finally found a tome that far surpassed even Dumbledore in age, with most of it being unreadable. All he could make out from the book was that this family was centuries old, maybe even millennia. Additionally, he would be classified as the Heir to this family until he reached the age of seventeen. Finally, his family was considered Most Ancient and Noble, something in which he had almost no knowledge as he hadn't particularly cared what that meant when he was in Hogwarts in his own time. He continued scouring the ancient tome to no avail until Laddey appeared beside him with the usual pop.

"Master Peverells sir, Slugglyhorns be giving me this for you sir." Laddey held out a large bit of rolled parchment for Harry to take, which he did after only a moment.

"Thank you Laddey, I'll call for you after I've written my response." With that, the elf snapped away as Harry began reading over the letter Professor Slughorn wrote.

Harry

I must start by saying that meeting you has been most exciting, it's not every day you get to meet a member of such a historic house long thought dead. I would very much like to hear your story one day soon, the true one that is.

Now onto the important bit, I presume you were most looking forward to. You'll be glad to know that you've been allowed into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even I must admit surprise at the speed in which you were accepted. I half expected to call in many a favour to secure your spot so quickly, but Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore seemed just as interested in you as anybody else would naturally be and expedited your entrance. Now I hope you don't mind my boy, but I have already written to a few students of mine about you to make your time at Hogwarts easier. Should you ever need anything and fail to find me, look for any of them. I'll add their names down below.

Finally, you'll be needing to pay your tuition fee, something of which you can work out with Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore upon your arrival. I'll have your Hogwarts letter and list of required items given to that House Elf of yours as soon as I receive it.

Names as mentioned above, Heron Mulciber, Walburga Black.

Horace

Harry sighed loudly in annoyance, word of his family's re-emergence would spread like fiendfyre and many people would be looking to meet with him on the train. He would have to stay close to Slughorn he realized, especially if the man was going this far for him. Most definitely the man could come in handy as he already proved, though Harry wasn't entirely happy about having two people near his age looking out for him. Especially with what he knew about Walburga Black, Sirius had told him a few times about her and if he hadn't, the portrait alone was enough to make him despise her.

Moving on from that portion of the letter, Harry wasn't sure if he had enough for tuition. This was something he would have to look into the following day considering he had purchased multiple house elves yesterday; not that he could remember. Harry yawned as he began thinking about the day and came to feel a high degree of fatigue. His body was exhausted, his mind even more so considering he went from dead at Voldemort's hand to fifty years in the past. Regardless, he would do what was polite and write his reply before heading to bed. For all he knew, this could very well be an elaborate dream but if it weren't, better to get what needed doing done.

Professor Slughorn

I assure you my story isn't nearly as exciting as you think it to be, however, next we meet privately I'll inform you of it instead of telling you a half baked lie. At least the portions I feel comfortable sharing, I'm sure you understand.

Thank you, truly, for the admittance into such a legendary school. I very much look forward to picking the brains of some of the worlds most gifted professors. You're very kind for being willing to deal with the endless questions that I'm sure to have, more so for offering the services of those two students as well. Though, I hope you haven't given away too much about me before I meet my soon to be classmates.

Please inform the Deputy Headmaster that I look forward to speaking with him and thank you once more for all that you've helped me with sir.

Harry

That would do, he hoped. Harry wasn't entirely used to formal letters, something he would have to change if he were to stay here, not that he thought he would.

"Laddey," Harry called and immediately the House Elf popped up. "Bring this to Professor Slughorn with my compliments."

"Yes, Master Peverell!" Another pop and the overly energetic elf was gone.

Finally done, Harry luckily made his way back to the bedroom where this absurd day began. When he opened the two extravagant French doors, he noticed that the smell was extremely fresh, his bed was made with the sheets appearing changed and a fresh set of beautifully crafted pyjamas were atop it. He hesitated as he took everything in, this was incredibly different than anything he'd been used to in his life. It didn't feel right to him, all this luxury and such a big home all to himself. No wonder that Draco and his lot had acted the way they had.

Slowly and almost expecting his Uncle to come out from behind a trap door, Harry made his way over to the bed and slipped on the pyjamas. They felt amazing, better than anything he'd ever worn in his life. He half expected to fall asleep while standing, they were so comfortable.

He slid into the bed, which now that he was fully paying attention, felt just as comfortable as the clothes he was wearing and spread out on his back as he looked at the ceiling of his room. This dream had been crazy, not at all like the nightmares he had grown so accustomed to. He wouldn't mind dreaming this again.

With a soft smile on his face, he whispered to himself in the same tone he had on his birthday all those years ago.

"Goodnight, Harry."

The next morning.

"Mas..Rell."

"Ster… sir."

"Not now Ron, it's too early." Harry got out with a groan, begrudgingly awake.

"Whos be Ron sir? My name is Laddey sir! I's be coming to tell sir that Slugglyhorn be giving him his Hogwarts letter!"

Harry jolted awake much like he had the first time he woke up in this bed, this time however he wasn't covered in sweat and freshly killed by a mad man.

"Laddey! This wasn't a dream?!" Harry boomed in question at the small House Elf, causing its eyes to open comically wide.

"I's don't be understanding sir!" Instantly Harry felt lower than dirt the way he watched the small creature flinch as if expecting a strike to follow his yell. So often had he been in those shoes and now he was putting another living being in them.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to feel a dull pain as he calmed down, all the while seeing how Laddey was waiting for something to happen. "Forget it, I was just surprised. Do you know where the food is kept? I'd love something to eat, I was so wrapped up yesterday that I only ate once."

Laddey, looking far less shaken but no less worried nodded emphatically. "I's be knowing just what yous be needing sir! I's be getting Windy to make yous something deliciouses!"

"W-" Harry barely got out the first sound of a word when Laddey vanished.

No doubt it would take at least ten or so minutes before his food would be ready, which would give him just enough time to have a mental breakdown before his hunger set in.

It. Wasn't. A. Dream.

He. Was. Back. In. Time.

Harry looked around the room, hoping… begging, that somebody would come out saying it was all an elaborate prank made as a byproduct of some invention of the Twins. That didn't turn out to be the case. He was in the forties, years and years away from even his own parents' births; if that were even meant to happen. For all he knew, this was another time entirely. Regardless, there was nothing he could do to change what happened. He only had one suitable course of action, stop Riddle. Slughorn spoke about Riddle, which meant Riddle existed here even if Tom was now a female. Riddle existing meant the evil, unspeakable deeds committed in his time could still very well come to pass.

Thankfully his Potter luck seemed to bring him directly to Slughorn, a man who seemed to have a vast network of connections and was showing immense interest in Harry on account of his last name; something he'd definitely have to be careful with considering the little he knew in regards to Muggle politics… how different could it be from the wizarding world, right?

Slughorn could prove infinitely valuable to Harry in stopping whatever Riddle did, so long as the man wasn't already in her pocket or incredibly self-serving.

All he needed to plan was how to stop Riddle without being in her eyesight as it's proven to be a very dangerous position. That must be why he was sent here after being killed in that dream that may not be a dream!

Stop Riddle. Avoid being seen or interacted with by Riddle. Save the lives of thousands. That was his purpose and he would see it through as best he could.

"Master Peverell sir, your food bes ready!"

Well, his plan could wait until after Breakfast.