Everything Black | Harry Potter

2. It's The End of the World As We Know It

Harry had no idea how much time had passed. The world beyond his closed eyelids had darken, sun hiding behind the clouds once again, and he was starting to feel a chill creeping past his clothes.

He heaved a great breath and finally opened eyes– instantly is brow furrowed and lips downturned. What he had assumed was the sun disappearing behind clouds couldn't have been further from the truth. He was swamped in darkness so dark, the only explanation had to be he was in an enclosed space.

Please, no, he thought desperately, it's over, please just let it be over, please.

Harry tentatively reached his hand out to his side and quickly found a wall. Calm holding but panic rising, Harry tried to feel out the perimeter of the 'room'.

It was tiny, barely bigger than a coat cupboard. So tiny he was surprised he could even fit without his head brushing the ceiling.

Harry's eyes flew wide.

barely bigger than a coat cupboard. . .

Breath held, anxiety rising, Harry reached up and carefully yanked on the chain he knew would be there. Light flooded the room and Harry barely bit back his scream of frustration.

It wasn't any cupboard.

It was his cupboard.

Complete with the dust and spiders galore.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry flinched, body still keyed with the instincts of being on the run. His aunt –for only she could be the owner of such a shrill voice– rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. Despair sat heavily in stomach. If he been uncertain before, there was no room for doubt now. He bit his lips harshly, the sharp sting a brief distraction from his spiralling mind. He felt tears welling in his eyes, hot and

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry, voice catching.

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

His aunts' feet moved away and Harry stared unseeing at the door.

He, Harry quickly decided, was utterly fucked.

#

It only took Harry a few hours –in which, he quite understandably freaked out about finding himself in 1991, in the body of his 11 year old self– to realise that he would not be able to sit through the same shit he did the first time 'round. A quick experiment with a snake and some glass in zoo –this time he managed to not cause mass panic and subsequently Dudley's birthday passed without any unexpected drama– and Harry comfortably came to the conclusion that yes, he can in fact change time.

Which was good to know, because Harry had plans.

The first thing Harry did –after trying to perform wandless magic and realising, although he had the knowledge, his now young body was nowhere near ready for that level of magic– was make sure he hid his Hogwarts letter when it first came with the mail.

He had spent years after that terrible incident berating himself for not sliding the parchment under the door of his cupboard to read later, for not having the patience to wait a few hours to read something that was clearly so important.