Harry Potter and the Return to Youth

Chapter 1: Of Cats and Dogs

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Slam! Uncle Vernon had entered the car. After he was settled in the driver seat he turned to look over his shoulder and spat, "Now listen here, boy. Your Aunt Marge has come to visit again. Picked her and Dudley up this morning. Now I won't be having you doing any of your unnaturalness and blowing her up again. You mind your manners and don't talk back! You hear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry quietly replied. Oh, great; this was the last thing he needed. "She didn't bring Ripper, did she?"

"Yes, she did bring that menace, and you leave him alone. In fact, you're to stay in your room for the whole week she's here, boy! If it wasn't for your Aunt Petunia having a bout of sympathy for your rotten self I wouldn't have come to pick you up, what with what your freakishness did to Marge the last time she was here!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry sighed. Vernon snorted in disgust before he turned back around to drive. Harry settled his elbow on the door-side armrest and placed his chin in the upturned hand, staring blankly out the window. This was going to be a long summer. Hedwig hooted softly and Harry smiled weakly at her and put his other hand atop her cage before returning his gaze to the window.

It was a clear day and the traffic on the A3 motorway wasn't terribly bad after getting away from inner London. An hour-long blur of Uncle Vernon's grumbling, suburban development, and the rolling hills of south England found Harry exiting the car and lugging his trunk from the gravel driveway up the walk to the front door of number four.

Vernon stalked ahead of him, unceremoniously yanked the door open and slammed it in Harry's face. "Welcome home," Harry muttered under his breath before cracking the door open.

He was met with a hall full of Dursleys. Cousin Dudley and his collection of chins made up the rear as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, looking decidedly bored. Aunt Petunia scowled at Harry from just outside the living room. And to Harry's dismay, right in front of him, his uncle Vernon was being embraced by the large and spiteful female version of himself called Aunt Marge. The only change in Aunt Marge, since last he saw her, was that her face went from merely purple to a deep violet when her eyes landed on Harry. "Still here, are you?" she bellowed. "I would have thought you'd be given the boot after what you did last summer! Vernon never told me what sort of drugs you put in the brandy... you should be in jail, or better yet, ten feet under after pulling a stunt like that! You despicable, despicable thing! Ripper here will see to you," she turned to her bulldog, "wont you, boy?"

Aunt Marge and Ripper were as good as their word, for no sooner had Aunt Marge spoken than Ripper leaped at Harry. The dog clawed at Harry's shins and bit at his legs before sinking his teeth into Harry's left calf. With a scream and much jumping about by Harry and laughing from the Dursleys, Harry finally managed to kick Ripper loose. The dog growled ferociously before charging again. Harry was ready this time and met Ripper's leap with a swift kick to the dog's chin. With a loud yip, Ripper turned tail and hid behind Aunt Marge.

"How dare you kick my poor Ripper! Vernon! Do something about this filthy vagabond of yours!" Aunt Marge snarled.

Vernon obliged. "How dare you boy?! Up to your room! Now, and stay there! I won't have you rewarded with supper for that!"

Harry was more than willing to get away. He grabbed a handle on his trunk and as quickly as he could, he dragged it upstairs under the baleful glares of his relatives and Dudley's darkly amused chortling.

No sooner had Harry placed his trunk by the foot of his bed than his Uncle Vernon entered. "You're lucky your Aunt Marge can't remember your unnaturalness from her last visit. Keep that ruddy owl in the car till supper. You're to fetch the thing while we eat and keep it QUIET! You hear me, boy?" Vernon threatened before smacking a fist into the palm of his hand.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," was Harry's melancholy reply as he flopped onto his bed.

"You'll look at me while I'm talking to you, boy! You're not to join us for supper either, as I said. Stay up here if you know what's good for you. I'll be putting up the locks once Marge has gone. You best behave and do as we say or else there will be no food at all for the rest of the summer!" With that threat still hanging in the air, Vernon turned and left the bedroom.

Harry could hear arguing voices down the stair. For now he was content to lie there. Cedric... Voldemort... Why did he have to be so bloody 'noble'? See what happens when he tried to help people? They die! If only he could keep his sodding mouth shut. Harry shivered and swallowed hard as a sharp pain squeezed around his heart. Abruptly, he sat up and went to his trunk, from which he extracted the photo album Hagrid had given him in his first year. Harry opened it and gazed at a wedding photo of his parents. They looked so happy gazing at each other in the center of the picture. On James's side Harry could see the Marauders, and on his mother's side there were two beautiful women that Harry did not know. He had eyes only for the wedded couple, though, and tearfully traced his fingers over them. They were dead and he was alive. Now Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back, and Harry was probably going to die soon, too.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon moping and staring at photos of his parents and the new ones he'd added of his Gryffindor friends. 'Cedric deserves a spot here, too,' he thought miserably.

The sun slowly set over Privet Drive and it was dusk before Harry could hear the sounds of Aunt Petunia cooking supper over the blaring of the kitchen telly. At five minutes past six o'clock, she called Dudley down from his room, where he had undoubtedly been playing video games. As the Dursley family ate, Harry silently stole down the stairs and as carefully as he could; he tiptoed to the front door which he carefully opened and closed behind him.

Harry gasped in surprise as he caught sight of Uncle Vernon's car, or rather, what was sitting on the hood. Harry pulled himself together and looked both ways before walking quickly to the car and asking in a hushed voice, "What are you doing here, Professor?" The tabby cat meowed, jumped down and walked towards the front door of number four. She stopped, looked straight at Harry, and then turned to look as meaningfully as a cat can at the front door. "Do you want to come inside?" The cat meowed again and trotted up to the porch.

Harry opened the rear passenger door of his uncle's sedan and took out an angry Hedwig, who hooted loudly and shot him a look that shouted, 'What took you so long?' "I'm sorry, girl, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't let me out to fetch you. Please, please be quiet. Aunt Marge is here and Uncle Vernon will have you locked up if he stops to think about it. He'll do it, too, if you make a racket." Harry reached inside the cage to stroke Hedwig's head but the owl jerked forward and pinched Harry's hand hard with her beak before turning around in her cage and looking away from the boy. Harry sighed, 'Can't anything be easy?'

Mindful that his professor was waiting, Harry rolled up the car window and closed the door before walking up to the porch where the tabby cat was sitting. He kneeled down to the cat and whispered, "the Dursleys are eating, so please just follow me to my room. The Dursleys have a Muggle visiting that doesn't know about us." The cat nodded and rubbed her face against Harry's ankle. As carefully and quietly as he could, Harry opened the front door and slipped inside with Hedwig's cage.

He wasn't quiet enough, for Aunt Marge suddenly bellowed, "Hey, boy! Don't you dare try to sneak out! Trying to run off and be the no good vandal you are, aren't you? We won't be having you scaring Vernon's neighbors any more than you already do! Ripper! Go get him boy!" She sounded drunk.

Harry raced up the stairs with Hedwig's cage and Professor McGonagall right behind him. As he stopped to open the door though, Ripper came charging up the stairs and Harry only just closed his door before Ripper got there. While Ripper barked and clawed at the door, Harry carried Hedwig's cage over to its usual corner before opening it and letting his upset feathered friend out. "I'm sorry for all the chaos, Professor, but there really is little I can do about it," he said as he opened his window and looked pleadingly at Hedwig. "Please, girl, I know you're upset but could you please go and stretch your wings and hunt some dinner while you're about it?" Hedwig hooted with agitation and gave Harry another look before flapping out the window.

When Harry turned around Professor McGonagall had already changed into human form. "Well, Mr. Potter, while I am pleased to see you... that was a rather rushed greeting and introduction. May I assume you do not want your aunt and uncle to know that I am here?" she asked, conjuring a plush armchair and sitting in it.

"Well ye... not yet, that is. If the Obliviators have to come for Aunt Marge again, the Dursleys will be worse than ever. Please say I don't have to stay here. Can't I stay with Sirius or the Weasleys?" Harry knew it was a futile question, but he had to ask.

" I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Potter, but with the return of You-Know-Who, it is impossible for you to leave for quite some time, a month at least." She paused a moment and her lips curled in a faint smile as she looked at him. "But with your approval, I will be visiting for a few days. The Headmaster and I thought you could use some sympathetic company so soon after the third task," she finished softly.

Harry frowned and stared at the floor. "Yeah... probably," he muttered.

McGonagall frowned. "If you do wish to talk about it, I will listen. You do know there was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened?" She leaned towards Harry while finishing with quiet conviction.

Harry visible struggled with himself before rubbing his eyes and replying in a choked voice, "But if I wasn't so bloody noble Cedric wouldn't have taken the cup! He'd be fine and I would have been the only one who'd have gone to Voldemort."

McGonagall paused for a moment and her brows furrowed in thought. "You told Professor Dumbledore that when your wand connected with You-Know-Who's that Mr. Diggory came out of it, correct?" She said quietly.

"Yeah," he replied as he looked down and shuffled a foot.

"When he came out what was he like? You said that he spoke to you..." McGonagall continued delicately.

"Yeah, he told me to hold on... and to take his body back to his parents," Harry's voice broke.

"Both Professor Dumbledore and I believe that the shades that issued from You-Know-Who's wand were connected to and sustained by the actual spirits of the departed themselves. Peter Pettigrew's hand vanished in an instant... but they endured for the duration of the Priori Incantantem." He looked up in shock, but she wasn't done yet, "Did Mr. Diggory look like he blamed you for his death?"

"No... no, he didn't. He just wanted me to take his body back," he said weakly.

"If he doesn't blame you for his death, then by what right do you blame yourself?" She imparted this significantly and with her head held high.

She knew she had given him a lot to think about. After a minute of silently studying him, she sighed and stood out of her chair. "Well then. This hardly looks like suitable quarters for the two of us. Let us see what can be done," she said in a clear effort to change the subject.

With a complicated wand movement which ended with a large overhead loop and then swishing down and then up she cast a spell. The red flare of magic impacted the ceiling, and suddenly it was rising and the room stretched up like pulled clay. Then the red spot broke in four and shot to the corners of the room and stretched those walls as well. Harry's room was now approximately the size of the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts.

Harry stood there gaping as his transfiguration professor showed off her skill. She changed his bed into a king sized canopy bed with elegant red and gold hangings. With a few more flicks his desk was a grand oak desk with drawers and file cabinets, his desk chair grew arms and was turned steady and cushioned, his wardrobe expanded, and his nightstand was leveled. All of his furniture was gleaming; clean and well polished. "Carpet or wood flooring, Harry?"

"Uh... carpet," he stammered.

"Carpet it is, then." With a last flick, the carpet turned red and looked new. A tiny bag appeared in her hand, which she enlarged before she reached into it and took out a reading desk, several books, and a basket filled with red and gold velvet pillows. She placed the desk alongside Harry's own and the basket in the far corner of the room, away from the bed.

Harry's stomach growled as McGonagall turned back to him. "Have you eaten yet, Harry?" she inquired, shooting an inquisitive look at his elephantine shirt. The shirt had been Dudley's, after all.

"No, Professor, they sent me to bed without supper after I kicked Aunt Marge's dog. You saw him earlier when he chased us up the stairs." Harry scowled.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed at that. "I thought something of this sort might happen." She immediately conjured a small round table with two chairs before she pulled a hand-bell from her bag and rang it loudly. Dobby appeared with a loud pop.

"What can Dobby do for Professor McGonagall, ma'am?" Dobby bowed before McGonagall. His precarious pile of hats swayed dangerously and finally fell when he looked at Harry and gave a tremendous start. "HARRY POTTER, SIR! Dobby is so happy to see you!" The excited elf immediately launched himself at Harry's legs and hugged them tightly.

"Dobby," Professor McGonagall asked, slightly amused, "Can you please see to fetching some dinner for Mr. Potter?"

Dobby turned to look at Professor McGonagall and blinked before turning horrified eyes up to Harry. "Harry Potter is not eating? What can Dobby bring for Harry Potter to be eating?" The elf released his hold on Harry's legs and looked up at his face with earnest fervor.

"Umm... whatever is easy, Dobby. If there is anything left over from dinner at Hogwarts, it would be fine," Harry answered uncomfortably.

Dobby immediately disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Harry took a seat at the table and folded his hands in his lap. "How long will you be staying, Professor?"

"I said a few days, three at most I think. Professor Dumbledore has a few things to see to before he will be taking my place," she replied as she sat opposite Harry.

"But... I'm not important enough for that! Professor Dumbledore must have so much to do; he shouldn't be wasting his time on me!" Harry exclaimed.

"I don't think Professor Dumbledore is the sort who wastes his time, Harry," McGonagall chided.

A pop sounded and Harry jumped in his seat. Dobby was back. "Dobby has ham and duck and dumplings and salad and noodles with sauce and meat ready for Harry Potter, sir!"

"Some of the ham would be great, Dobby... with some of the salad, Italian dressing please, and add a baked potato, if you can," Harry told Dobby as politely as he could. "Oh, and please bring something to drink; water is fine."

Dobby beamed and with a snap of his fingers the requested meal appeared on the table upon the finest china Harry had ever seen. Dobby bowed deeply before Harry. "Is there anything else Dobby can do for Harry Potter?"

"No, I'm fine..." Harry began, but Professor McGonagall interrupted, "please summon a slice of the chocolate cake we had for desert, Dobby, along with a generous scoop of never-melting vanilla ice cream." McGonagall smiled briefly at Harry's incredulous look.

A snap of Dobby's fingers later, the dessert occupied the far side of the table away from Harry. Another snap and Dobby disappeared.

"Please eat, Harry," McGonagall requested. Under his Head of House's gaze, Harry ate as quickly as he could while maintaining as perfect manners as he knew how. It wouldn't do to look a slob in front of her, Harry thought.

The cake and ice cream was all gone and there was a slice of ham, a third of the potato remaining when Harry had eaten his fill. He announced he was full and McGonagall vanished the table, dishes, scrapes, and all.

"As you are still subject to the ban of underage magic, there are a few things I had thought we could do while I am here. I've brought with me a few transfiguration texts that would do nicely to supplement your current grasp of the subject," McGonagall pressed.

The last thing that Harry wanted to do was to study on his first night home from school. "Studying is the last thing I want to do tonight," Harry sullenly replied. His eyes darted around the room as he looked for a way to divert her. He caught onto a pile of Dudley's old board games, "how about a game of Scrabble instead?"

Professor McGonagall paused a moment and considered Harry before nodding. "Very well. You will have to teach me this game, as I have never heard of it before. Is it anything like Muggle chess?"

"It's played on a board, but otherwise it's nothing like that," Harry smiled half-heartedly before he dove into his open wardrobe where he pulled 'Scrabble' out of the dusty pile of board games he'd noticed before. "Can you bring back the table and chairs please? Without the plates and everything."

McGonagall re-conjured the table and chairs. Harry placed the Scrabble box on the table and took out the board, letters, and the letter holding blocks. "How the game is played is that you take seven letters and put them on your block, like this," Harry took seven random pieces that had been face down on the table and put them on his holding block. "Then you try to use them to spell words on the board. After the first person goes in the center, the players take turns and must use already placed blocks to attach their words to. You earn points based by the little number on the letter blocks. You can see that on the board there are places where you get bonuses. If you can't think of a word to make with what's on the board with your hand you can exchange one of your letters with one from the pile. Blank blocks can be used as anything but once placed remain the same throughout the game and are worth no points. At the end the person with the most points wins." Harry finished his explanation with a sigh. "Well, let's play."

Professor McGonagall began the game thoroughly amused but soon lost patience with Harry's use of Muggle terminology and repeated use of 's' and 'ed' on words she placed. The score was close halfway through when they heard Ripper snarling outside the door. Luckily, Aunt Marge called him away to the guest room after only a few choice words to the dog about Harry-the-delinquent-criminal. McGonagall frowned at the door but remained seated.

Harry wondered what his relatives' reaction would be when they saw his new and improved room. Professor McGonagall ended up winning the game through her use of a combination of wizarding lingo that Harry was completely oblivious to along with names of wizarding places, instruments, and practices that went completely over Harry's head.

Chagrinned, Harry conceded. After they were done cleaning up, Professor McGonagall decided that it was time to go to bed. Harry changed into Dudley's long shirt that he normally slept in behind the curtains of his new bed while Professor McGonagall returned to her cat form and retired to the basket she'd brought with her.

As he went to sleep, Harry wondered if perhaps this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

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AN: Next Chapter: What form is my form?

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews, for without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.