Disclaimer: Harry Potter and other canon characters belong to JKR I'm only having some fun

Redone, and done, and done again.

This is a one shot inspired by all those redo fics out there and Stasis Leak from Red Dwarf Series II

The war with Voldemort was over, Harry Potter was now officially the One-Who-Conquered and the Wizarding World didn't know if they should praise him, fear him or run and hide.

The Daily Prophet was calling for an investigation in to the killing of so many Purebloods (including it's editor and several major shareholders) and how a seventeen year old could manage to overpower the most powerful Dark Lord of recent times, and were hinting that only a powerful Dark Lord would be capable of doing so.

Somehow they'd found out that he'd been involved with the death of Quirrell in his first year, the Obliviation of Lockhart in his second year, were spreading rumours of his involvement with the escape of Sirius Black in third year, the death of Cedric Diggory at the Triwizard Tournament and every bit of dirt they could find out or invent, they were even hinting that he was responsible for the death of Dumbledore.

Witch Weekly were hailing him as the Wizarding World's Most Eligible Bachelor and as no one had seen him smile since the end of the final battle, had created a new award especially for him, 'Witch Weekly's Scowl of the Month'.

The Quibbler was out of production, Xenophilus Lovegood having committed suicide after Luna had died, and the overwhelming feelings of guilt he had for betraying his daughter's friends.

Not many of Harry's friends had survived intact, Hermione had been Crucioed into the same ward as the Longbottoms and Lockhart, the finest mind of the generation now unable to do much more than drool and point at pretty pictures.

Of the Weasley family only Charlie survived, and he had immediately returned to his dragons. Ron and the twins had died defending their sister and mother as Percy, who had supposedly returned to the Light Side, attacked them from behind. Bill and Arthur had gone berserk after this and had waded into the thickest part of the battle and had finally succumbed to their wounds three days afterward, their bodies too ravaged to survive. Fleur had moved back to France before the battle as she wanted to be in her home Country in case Voldemort should attack there.

Remus and Tonks had died as had her father, Andromeda had taken Teddy and fled to America after the battle, claiming asylum.

Harry himself, after being physically healed and attending as many funeral services as he could, now spent his days and nights staring into space in his room at Grimmauld Place, only sleeping when exhaustion took him over. He ate and drank what Kreacher provided for him, not tasting it, not really wanting it, but not wanting to upset the little elf by refusing what he offered.

He mechanically read the newspapers growing angrier with every lie published and slipping further into despair as each day more of the names of the dead, dying and seriously wounded were released. He couldn't think of any reason to keep on living, his despair deepened and he walked into the bathroom, mechanically he showered and shaved and then went back to his room and put on his best set of robes. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the loathing on his face, he drew his wand and cast his last spell at his reflection, he had finally managed to have enough hate to use an Avada Kedavra.

The hideous green light reflected back off the mirror as he had intended and struck him in the chest and The-Boy-Who-Lived, lived no more, or so he thought!

Harry was aware of a strong light penetrating his eyelids and also that he had the mother and father of all headaches, in fact if truth be told his entire body ached, he even felt as if his hair was hurting. Gradually, he opened his eyes and very quickly shut them again but realised that he would have to open them at some point so tried again.

Slowly his eyes adjusted to the light and a room came into focus and he realised he was sitting in a waiting room along with several other people, none of whom he recognised. After what seemed an age where he'd watched as the others had been called, a voice called his name and he was directed to go to Room 3.

As he entered the room he saw a utilitarian desk with an Umbridge look-a-like sitting behind it, the walls were lined with filing cabinets and a file an inch thick lay open on the desk. The toad-like woman gestured to him to sit and he sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair opposite her.

"Mr. Potter, my name is Jane Umbridge, and I am your caseworker, and before you ask, yes I am related to the woman you knew, my penance for allowing her to grow into the woman she became is to work here for a thousand earth years."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but she cut across him. "You've given us quite a problem, Mr. Potter, you weren't supposed to die for another two hundred years and were destined to father a few children, who along with you and their children would help bring enlightenment and drag the Wizarding World into it's modern age."

"To solve this we're giving you another chance, now to let you know, we can't put you back into your younger body, but you will rescue yourself from the Dursleys at age three, you will return as a long lost cousin of James Potter, from a branch of the family that moved to the Colonies to escape the witch hunts and raise yourself as you should have been, if Dumbledore hadn't interfered."

Harry opened his mouth but again was silenced as the witch opposite continued to speak. "No, we can't bring your parents back, it was their time, as for Sirius, if you can outsmart the Old Coot you might be able to get him released earlier, but beware, his scheming runs deep, you may actually have to remove yourself from the UK to protect Sirius, be cautious round Dumbledore, or as we have come to know him Dumb-old-fuck. And to answer your next question you will be Harold Potter, named after yours and James' Great, Great, Great Grandfather. You will, if possible, live in Potter Keep, a mock castle built by the afore named Harold and unknown to Dumbledore. You won't have access to the Potter Vaults as Harold, as you aren't from the direct line, but you will have access to a substantial vault. The Harold you will be actually existed, but was an only child and died as an infant, his parents are dead so no one can claim you aren't him."

The file on the desk was closed and pushed across the desk toward him, "Please read this, it contains all the information you need, oh, and I hope you can do a New England accent, you have two days to memorise it."

Harry, or Harold as he now must think of himself staggered out of the room and was ushered over to a table with a comfortable seat and a rack of potion vials on it. His guide motioned to the vials and said. "The green potions are memory potions and will allow you to absorb the information in the file on one read through, the blue potions will give you the energy to keep reading, drink one of each now and a bell will sound when you need to take each new dose, good luck."

His guide disappeared before Harry could ask any questions, so he downed the potions and began to read, he lost track of time but like a good little Pavlovian dog, took a potion each time the bell sounded. As he closed the last page of the folder he was aware of someone standing beside him, a voice spoke.

"Mr. Potter, please come with me."

Harold, as he now thought of himself due to the untold effect of the potion, stood and followed his latest guide. He was led back into the office and told to sit, which he did.

"Mr. Potter, it's time for you to leave, I wish you the best, remember you are the last hope of the Wizarding World in our dimension."

"Thank you, Ma'am." He replied, wondering where he had picked up the soft American accent, not realising it was another side effect of the potions he'd consumed.

He was ushered through a door and as he stepped out he realised he was outside and in the middle of a hail storm. Looking round he saw he was in the park round the corner from Privet Drive in Little Whinging. He could hear a child sobbing, and looked over the park fence and saw the sobbing child, it was his younger self being dragged along by the hand by his Aunt Petunia. He wasn't wearing a coat and his over-large clothes were soaked through and his trousers were dragging on the ground. Dudley however, was being pushed along in a pushchair, protected from the elements by a snug rain-cover.

Harold's blood boiled and he silently Apparated to the park gate to get there before his aunt and stood waiting for her. As Petunia rounded the corner she saw the stranger standing at the gate with the hailstones missing him as if by…..'Magic' the thought struck her and then she saw the man who looked similar enough to her dead brother-in-law to stop her in her tracks, and promptly fainted.

Harold took a little pity on her, but actually it was more out of concern for his younger self, and after a quick check to ensure no one was watching, side-along Apparated them to his hated former dwelling place, he had never considered it as being his 'home'.

When they arrived in the house, young Harry looked up at him in awe and Dudley started howling for his mother, a quick sleep spell took care of that.

"Who you?" asked Harry.

"I'm Harold, who are you?" said Harold crouching in front of the small boy to bring himself to a less threatening height, he noticed as young Harry flinched as he moved towards him.

"Me's Fweak Boy, ats Dud, and ats Aunt 'Tunia, why you here?"

"I'm here to see you, your daddy was my cousin."

"My daddy dead, daddy and mummy was fweaks, and they is deaded cos they was fweaks and me should be deaded too."

Harold was finding it difficult to hold back the tears as he remembered his aunt and uncle telling him the same things from his earliest memories, but with great difficulty managed to do so.

With a slight moan Petunia came back to consciousness and realised she was in her own home, she opened her mouth to scream but was silenced by a wave of Harold's hand.

"Listen up, Petunia Dursley, I'm going to remove the silencing charm from you and then you're going to phone that fat slob of a husband of yours and tell him he needs to come home for a family emergency, understand?"

Petunia nodded and Harold removed the silencing charm. Petunia phoned Vernon as requested and Harold found it difficult not to hex her as she spoke, and though she didn't know it he could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Vernon Dursley please, it's his wife."

"One moment, ma'am," he heard the telephonist say.

"Vernon, it's Petunia."

"What are you phoning me at work for, you know the old man doesn't like it if we get personal calls."

"Sorry, it's an emergency, you need to get back home right away."

"Is something wrong with Dudders?"

"No, it's Harry."

Harold noticed the way she stuttered over the unfamiliar name.

"What's the freak done now?"

"I can't say on the phone, you need to get here as soon as."

"Okay, but the little shit's going to be in a world of pain when I get back."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Harry looked at the stranger and asked "Who Hawwy?"

Harold glared at Petunia and looked to his younger self. "You are, your mummy and daddy named you Harry James Potter, James was your daddy's name and your mummy's name was Lily. You were called Harry because every Potter family needs a Harold or a Harry, my full name is Harold Potter. Your daddy was my cousin."

"Was you mean to my daddy? Dud's my cousin and he mean to me."

At this point Petunia was edging toward the door but with a quick wave of Harold's hand she felt compelled to sit back down.

"No, I wasn't mean to your daddy, I lived a long way away and we never met, but someone told me that I needed to come and visit you, now let's get you out of those wet clothes and get you warmed up."

"Aunt 'Tunia says only good boys get to change clothes, me's a bad fweak, not a good boy."

Harold sighed and said. "Harry, you are a good boy, now you need to get warm, show me where your dry clothes are."

Harry walked from the living room and pulled open the door to the cupboard under the stairs, pushed into a corner a set of dry clothes and a pair of pyjamas, Harold remembered how that was all he really had until he went to Hogwarts. He collected the clothes and led Harry to the downstairs toilet.

With difficulty he helped Harry out of his wet clothes, after all he'd never had to dress or undress a child before, and was amazed at how independent his younger self was, he knew instinctively that a three year old shouldn't be as accomplished at dressing himself. When he saw the bruises and scratch marks on young Harry's body he was beyond angry, he knew the scratches were from Dudley, but only an adult could have caused the bruises.

He remembered his own childhood and how several times a year the physical abuse from the adult Dursleys' would stop and realised it was always before the required doctor's and nurse's visits so that any marks could be passed off as being from him and Dudley play-fighting.

When he had lifted the towel to dry Harry's skin, Harry stopped him and said. "Can't, me's not allowed."

Harold had continued to dry him after putting a finger to his lips and saying. "Shh, it's our secret, I won't tell if you don't."

Little Harry had giggled and said. "I won't tell."

Harold cast a resizing charm on the clothes, helped Harry to dress and went back to the living room to await Vernon's arrival. Dudley slept on in his pushchair and Petunia just sat and glared at him.

For the next thirty minutes Harold sat with Harry on his knee reading him a story from a book. When he'd first lifted Harry on to his knee the little boy had trembled but by the time fifteen minutes had passed he had first leaned into Harold's chest and then had put his thumb into his mouth and actually had begun to doze off, right up to when there was a screeching of car tyres in the drive outside the house.

At this point Harry scrambled from Harold's knee and faster than a child his age should have been capable of disappeared into his cupboard, slamming the door behind him.

Harold stood and composed himself, forcing his emotions down as he waited for Vernon to enter the house. He heard the car door slam, the house door open and then close with a sound to equal a thunderclap and saw the living room door open with such a force that it nearly bounced back and hit his magenta faced uncle.

"WHAT THE FU…" started Vernon before he was silenced, his mouth forming the words but no sound emanating from it.

His eyes fell on Harold and his face lost all colour, he grabbed at his chest and staggered over to sit on the couch beside Petunia.

Harold glared at the Dursleys and spoke quietly to them, "If you can speak to me like civilised human beings, or as close to that as you can manage, I'll let you speak, if not you can stay silenced, while you think about that I'll tell you who I am and why I'm here."

"My name is Harold Potter, and as you can tell from my accent I'm an American, and as you may have guessed, although Petunia has heard me tell Harry, I am a distant cousin of Harry's father James Potter. I have recently found out about James and Lily's deaths and young Harry's placement with you. I am really disappointed in how you've been treating him, he didn't even know his own name, he told me his name is Freak Boy, now tell me why you have been treating him like this."

Harold removed the silencing charms but quickly replaced Vernon's as he knew he was going to shout, instead he was left doing an impersonation of a guppy.

Petunia, having had longer to assimilate the situation, spoke almost normally. "I don't know why I treat him like that, I can't stop myself, every time I try to do something nice to him I can't. As for Vernon, he hated James because he was rich and successful, that and James ridiculed him about his weight and moustache and played tricks on him. But Vernon isn't like that with any other child."

Harold thought for a moment and tried some Legilimency on the Dursleys, what he saw angered him beyond anything that Voldemort had done over the years. Both Dursleys were under compulsion charms, cast on them by none other that Dumbledore himself.

When she had discovered baby Harry on her doorstep, Petunia had been angry but when the baby had smiled at her, she'd taken compassion on him. She knew who he was because her and Lily, although not close, had corresponded with each other and had sent photos of their babies. It was only after she'd read the letter that things had changed, the parchment had been charmed to make the reader hate Harry James Potter. Vernon had read the letter over her shoulder, and as he had started from a dislike of all things magic, had succumbed even quicker than Petunia.

He discovered that Mrs. Figg wasn't in the area yet, so after sending them to sleep he Obliviated them of his arrival and created false memories for them of Vernon abandoning a three year old Harry in a deserted alley in Manchester while on a business trip, then he phoned the Police pretending to be a concerned neighbour reporting the disappearance of a child from 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging.

Harold went to the cupboard door and opened it, there cowering in the corner was Harry, he reached out and took the young boy in his arms and comforted him. In the distance he heard Police sirens, so he concentrated hard and Apparated to Potter Keep.

Harold and Harry had landed in the entrance hall of Potter keep, both looked round and saw another man walking towards them, the stranger who by his looks was obviously a Potter, raised his hand in greeting. "Harold, Harry, welcome to Potter Keep, I've been expecting you, I'm the Harry Potter that young Harry here becomes after being raised by Harold, but call me HJ so we know who everyone is."

At that there was a crack of Apparation and yet another Harry Potter arrived. "Hi guys," he said. "Now I'm the Harry raised by Harold and HJ, this is where things become a teensy bit confusing……."

If anyone wants to adopt this you are quite welcome to, all I ask is for acknowledgment for the plotline.

Tumshie