I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry woke up in the infirmary. It was the same… but still different, somehow. The colors seemed livelier… younger? Okay, that didn't make any sense.

"You're awake" it was Poppy, sure, but… younger. Oh, fuck, fuck, "Your name?"

"I… I'm Hadrian Black" which technically wasn't a lie, considering he had become the Black lord not long after the war, and had done a rather extensive inheritance test at Gringotts. For one, his name was not Harry James Potter, but Hadrian Andriev Black-Lupin-Potter. His blood-adoptive parents were James and Lily Potter, he knew that, but he found out his real father was Remus Lupin, and his bearer had been Sirius Black. He didn't know the intricacies involved, but the tests run at Gringotts could not be fooled.

Somehow, everyone had only been fed the information that James and Lily Potter were his parents, Sirius his godfather, and Remus his honorary uncle. Which kind of ruined a lot of things about Dumbledore's plans, of course. First, he wasn't even born in July, so the Prophecy couldn't possibly involve him. Second, his real parents had not been the ones to defy the Dark Lord so many times. Third, Sirius and Remus were not blind followers, and had grown quite disenchanted with Dumbledore's actions through the years, and with Sirius being a Black, he had started to lean towards Voldemort's side. Never betraying his friends, of course, but Dumbledore was not who he portrayed to be, and at least Voldemort seemed upfront with a lot of things.

"Black?" Poppy was shocked, "Are you sure?"

"Well, that's the only thing I'm sure of right now, to be honest. What year is it?" Harry asked.

"Nineteen seventy-seven, of course"

Fuck. Fuck. Twenty-one years in the past. Not really what he had in mind. His parents (the entire package) were still in school, on their last year if his numbers were correct. Shit. What the hell would Walburga say? She wasn't nice, at all.

"I… are you sure?" he knew it was a lame answer, but maybe someone would come out laughing and saying it was a good joke. No one did.

"What kind of question is that? I'm completely sure!" Poppy felt rightful indignation, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen" Harry muttered instantly, though he then thought that he had been twenty-one before. Oh shit. Poppy frowned.

"The Headmaster will have to come here and see for himself. And I will contact Lord Black, to see if your claims about being a Black are true" she sniffed, almost offended. There was no way a child from such a powerful house would be that well-hidden until his majority. It was impossible.

"Oh, okay"

Harry kind of relaxed, because no matter what year, the results for an inheritance test would always return the results for every relative, in blood or blood-adoptive, that he had. Yes, it was going to be a pain in the ass to explain, considering not even he knew what the hell had happened for him to land twenty-one years in the past, and being seventeen again, at Hogwarts' infirmary. He would worry later about that. For now, he could relax, because he would have to be believed about his origins.

Sooo, hey there! Second multi-chapter story, yay. It is almost done... almost. This one has a bit more humor in it, I think. Wow, I feel like I'm on a roll here. I'm not really sure how long it will last, but I'll try to at least finish uploading this story before disappearing again. Or maybe it will continue being like this, not really sure. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!