Harry Potter and the Mistakes of a Past Reality

Damn it! I'm in the Past!

Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. Wait what?! What did you say? I don't own Harry Potter! Gosh, darn it! All things in bold are taken from the book. I'll be using a lot from the book in the first few chapters, but I'll be using less and less towards the end of the story.

"Up! Get up! Now!" Harry heard a voice, which sounded an awful lot like Aunt Petunia, screeched He felt different, he knew something was wrong. Where was Ginny? Why was that voice screeching at him to get up? He guessed he was dreaming, so he opened his eyes and sat up and realized he wasn't in his room, so he started to panic. He heard someone rapping on the door.

"Up!" the voice screeched again. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was back in his cupboard.

"Are you up yet?" the voice asked.

"Nearly," he replied even though he hadn't even started to get ready.

"Well get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything to be perfect on Duddey's birthday.

Harry froze. Dudley. Crap, he was back in the past. Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped.

"Nothing, nothing..." This might not be so bad, he realized. He'd be able to save people; Cedric, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Sirius. Sirius. Go he missed him so much. He was still in Azkaban. He has to find a way to get him out

He got out of his cupboard and looked at the pile of presents and got disgusted. They were completely ruining their son by spoiling him so much. Didn't they realize they were slowly killing their son by feeding him so much? The Dursleys would always repulse him.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was putting the bacon on the pan.

"Comb your hair!" he barked. "And cook that bacon faster." Harry turned up the heat on the stove hoping the bacon would burn.

Harry was frying the eggs by the time Dudley had arrived in the kitchen with his mother.

Harry put the plates of eggs and slightly-burnt bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley meanwhile was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right that's thirty-seven then," said Dudley going red in the face. Harry couldn't remember if Aunt Petunia stopped Dudley from throwing a tantrum and flipping over the table, so he began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible to stay on the safe side.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you two presents while we're out today. How's that popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."

Harry was trying to stop himself from snorting when he wondered how it was possible that Dudley ever made it past Primary School.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley?" He ruffled Dudley's hair.