Let's do It Right This Time, Prologue

Harry Potter was fuming. You would have thought, with the war being over, and Voldemort dead, that his life would be easy. It wasn't. Not by a long shot, considering all that he had been through in the last two years. He was fed up.

Scrimgeour had been pressuring him to join the aurors for months, threatening Arthur Weasley's position whenever Harry tried to retire.

His wife, Ginny, had broke down and told him that she'd been lacing his pumpkin juice with love potion since his fifth year, and had since been dragged off by mind healers due to her delusions and the trauma of the war and her early possession, before Harry had even had time to speak with her. Apparently it was for 'his own good' that she got treated, dispite the fact that the mind healers at St. Mungo's and, indeed, in the Wizarding world, were nothing more than glorified exorcists.

Hermione had revealed in fit of rage that she'd been paid by Dumbledore to 'guide' him: keeping him in the dark about everything, renewing the potion cocktail he was dosed with after every summer, keeping the illegal mail wards from wearing off, and filling his ears with propaganda. She'd also been promised a share of his vaults if he had died, and Dumbledore would have gotten the rest but for his demise. Apparently she'd also been complicit in several of his other plans for the Greater Good, which has included blocking his magical core, drugging Snape and putting aggression enhancing wards on his personal quarters and classroom, and obliviating Mcgonagall regularly when she figured out there was something going on.

Dolores Umbitch had passed a law causing all British werewolves and their progeny to be institutionalized permanently, or euthanized if they disagreed, and had literally taken his godson Teddy out of his arms in his own home.

Oh, and his 'dead' father, James Potter, had showed up very much alive on his doorstep to visit with the son he'd abandoned, as well as inform him that he had no right to the title 'Lord Potter', as he had a legitimate heir born to a pureblood princess, and to admit that he'd only ever married 'that mudblood' on his father's order that he needed to marry a muggleborn to strengthen the line. And to take her away from 'Snivellus'. He'd apparently had to slip her a fertility potion and rape her, before using pureblood laws to trap her into marriage. The baby girl had been a squib, and he'd ended up putting her in an orphanage somewhere. Harry could really sympathise with Snape right now, and that was a first.

Oh, yes. Harry was livid. To think that his life has actually been better with a psychopath after him! Harry would not stand for it. He would have simply disappeared, but there was no way he could get away with that, not with his fame.

So he was going to try something else, something he'd found in an old book in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, when Minnie Mcgonagall had let him retake his seventh year. At the time, he'd been newly engaged, free of Voldemort, and high on the expectation that he would be flying for England in the Quiddich World Cup, and while the idea had been tempting, he'd had a perfect future ahead and hadn't wanted to go back to the days where he'd been hunted by Voldemort. Now, it actually looked like a good idea. If only he could borrow a copy of that book...