Harry Potter and the Portkey of Time

BOOK 2 - CHAPTER 1

Harry sat at the breakfast table, trying to drown out the roars of Vernon Dursley. Who had, yet again, woken up to the hoots of Hedwig, and would not stop complaining about it.

"Third time this week!" He yelled. "If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"

"She's bored!" Harry argued back, "If you would just let her fly around at night-"

"Do you know what would happen if we let owl's out..." Harry rolled his eyes as Vernon and Petunia shared a look of worry.

"If you won't let her out... maybe I'll use some... magic," Harry whispered the last word ominously, watching with glee as Vernon and Petunia paled to a white that rivalled Malfoy and Dudley fell off his seat. Their reactions had always been priceless.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE 'M WORD' IN OUR HOUSE?" Vernon bellowed at Harry. He rolled his eyes.

"I-"

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"

"Abnormality? Take a look at your son. That's what isn't normal in this house."

Dudley whimpered.

"I'm going out." With a dramatic swish, Harry turned and left, leaving the Dursleys open-mouthed.

Out in the heat of the day, Harry sat on the topmost branches of a tree, knowing the moment he came down, he would be punished by his Aunt and Uncle. As the sun glared down on him, his mind wandered; he thought of this time in his old life. Thinking back to when he was 12, an idea popped into Harry's mind. What if he tried to branch out a bit? Shock came over him as he realised he barely knew the people who lived on his street, he was never allowed out to meet them, excluding Mrs Figg. Harry wondered if she was already working for Dumbledore and watching over him. Glancing around the street, Harry noticed an owl perched on a window a few houses down from number 4 Privet Drive. That was weird, he never knew muggles kept owls...

Watching closely, Harry saw an arm reach out to smooth the owl feathers and hand it a few... bronze knuts! Another wizard lived in that house! Almost falling out of the tree, Harry scrambled down and around, navigating the thick branches, desperate for a better view. Just as he was about to lose hope and give up, the door of the house creaked open. A small boy with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes walked out. Harry knew he had seen him before, but couldn't exactly place where from. As the boy walked out into the yard along the path towards the mailbox out the front, he glanced up, and the two boys locked eyes. Harry watched as recognition fluttered across the boy's expression. He saw his jaw drop and eyes give a small flicker to Harry's forehead. The letters he had grabbed slipped from his hand, yet he showed no indication of picking them up. Without realising what he was doing, Harry scrambled forward, towards the boy, crossing the street very quickly and without much grace.

"You're Harry Potter!" The boy exclaimed when Harry was in earshot.

"Uh yeah," Harry responded sheepishly, "I guess I am."

The boy looked at him and said something about staying still, before rushing inside. Harry could hear his shouts down the hall, the boy calling out to his parents.

"MUM! DAD! GUESS WHO LIVES ON OUR STREET!"

A few moments later, the boy returned with who must have been his parents.

"SEE, IT'S HARRY POTTER!"

"Yes, Honey... Remind us who that is again?" The mother said. Harry was filled with an odd sense of relief. The boy came from a Muggle family, so he wasn't gawked at like a puppet on display.

"The Boy Who Lived! The one in all the books! He stopped that evil wizard when he was a baby! He's famous in the wizarding world!"

"Ah yes..." The Dad looked just as confused as the Mum.