Outsmarting Dumbledore

Harry lay in the dark cupboard, contemplating his life. The Boy Who Lived, the hero of the war — it could all have been a lie orchestrated by Dumbledore. The headmaster had confessed that all the events that had befallen Harry every year were his doing. However, analyzing them all was difficult, and it would be better to do it in the presence of Hermione if she had also been transported into the past. Harry couldn’t find an explanation for what had happened. He realized that his return to the past was his doing, but he didn’t know if George and Hermione had been transported with him. To ascertain the circumstances, he would need to at least leave the cupboard, but Harry didn’t want to do that just yet. How old was he? Less than eleven, as he was still living in the cupboard. But what year was it? Would he have to live with the Dursleys again until he finished school? How could he stop that blasted Dumbledore? “You treacherous betrayers!” Harry spat, envisioning the old man. And Ron, Ginny, the entire Weasley family except George, and probably Charlie and Bill. They were not at Burrow’s, and Harry hoped that the boys had nothing to do with what had happened. They had stolen three years of his life. They drugged him, and clouded his mind, only to eventually kill him. Ron. They had been through so much together, the Chamber of Secrets, the search for Horcruxes, and the occasional month-long quarrels. But Harry had always thought that he could rely on him, that in tough times, Ron would stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry, no matter what happened. That had been the case during the Battle of Hogwarts, throughout their seven years of friendship, and all of it was a lie. But from which point? And Ginny? Harry wasn’t even sure if he had ever felt anything more than a friendly attachment to her. Did she truly attract him, or had he been enchanted by some potion? No, he had genuinely liked her since the sixth year, but they hardly interacted in school, and during their seventh year, Harry had been running around the country searching for Horcruxes. He couldn’t get married right after the war, but the potion had done its job, and he got married, even though he remembered it all too vaguely. Overall, the events of the past three years were hazy in his memory. The only thing he was sure of was that he had been working as an Auror with Ron, while Hermione, who had always dreamed of a career in the Ministry, became a housewife. Harry sat up on the bed and pulled the light fixture’s cord. While he lay there, the house was eerily quiet, though a small slit in the door let in some light. He didn’t have his wand, just Dudley’s oversized clothes and a pair of cracked glasses held together with tape. Harry could feel the magic inside him, and he was glad that he could control it now. His childhood had been severely marred by the Dursleys punishing him for uncontrolled outbursts. Peeking out of the cupboard door, he made sure no one was in the house. Approaching the mirror, Harry realized with horror that he was in his ten-year-old body, that of a neglected, underfed child who had been abused both at home and at school. The clock showed a quarter to three, which meant Uncle Vernon was at work, and Dudley was probably out with his gang, scaring younger kids around the neighborhood. All the past dates on the calendar were crossed out, indicating that today was the thirteenth of April. Suddenly, the front door swung open, and Harry saw his Aunt Petunia entering. The sight of her brought back memories of their last conversation. “You were not the only one who lost your mother in Godric’s Hollow back then. I lost my sister.” Then Harry realized that no matter how much Petunia tried to hide it, Lily did matter to her. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the cupboard and not come out until dinner!” Petunia exclaimed, changing into her house slippers as she walked past Harry into the kitchen. “Sorry, aunt, but I need to talk to you while no one else is home. It’s very important.” Hermione opened her eyes on the bed in her room, a place she hadn’t been in for five years. Before setting off with Harry in search of Horcruxes, she erased all her memories from her parents. After the war, when she restored those memories, she hadn’t even had the chance to spend time with them. Just a month after their return, the house she grew up in had burned down, and it was Ron’s fault, the man she had loved since at least her fourth year, if not earlier. The man she had married, sacrificed her career for, even though she had been under the influence of a potion. Her feelings had been real, and it was all the more painful to realize that he and his family had betrayed her, betrayed Harry, and were planning to kill them. Tears welled up in her eyes, but amidst the pain of betrayal came the thought that she should have been dead, yet she lay in her bed, feeling strange as if her body had shrunk, and her front teeth had inexplicably become larger as if she… Hermione rushed to the mirror and screamed. She was herself, but she was eleven years old again as if all those years of suffering had never happened. And if she had been transported to the past, that meant Harry and George must be here too. And also… The young girl somersaulted down the stairs, leaping over the steps. The kitchen smelled of her favorite apple pie, and sitting at the table was a young woman she hadn’t expected to see. “Mom!” Hermione rushed to her mother and hugged her tightly, hanging onto her neck. “Mom, Mommy, I missed you so much!” Hermione burst into tears, shedding the horror of the past few years. Everything was fine now; everything had to change. The entire county of Devon was shaken by George’s scream as he woke up to find Fred alive and unharmed. “George, you’re scaring me! And stop pointing your finger at my face, what’s going on with you?” Once the initial shock of the situation had passed, George let go of Fred and recounted the entire story from beginning to end, omitting only the fact that Fred had died in the Battle of Hogwarts. It was difficult to talk about that then and now, even though Fred was sitting before him whole and unharmed. “I can’t believe our family is capable of such a thing.” “Tell me about it. I think Harry and Hermione ended up here too, although I can’t imagine how it happened.” “Well, what are we going to do now?” Fred whispered as footsteps approached the door. “First, my dear Fred, we need to contact Harry, and then we’ll figure things out as we go. I only know one thing: we need to keep an eye on our family…” “Both eyes,” Fred added, “or better yet, both pairs of eyes.” For the first time in three years, George felt like a whole person again.