When he was seventeen, Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. It was all very heroic, in a tale of a tragic hero and his faithful sidekicks, duty and sacrifice, and the triumph of good over evil. Then the fairytale ended, and real life came knocking.

The two sidekicks turned out to really like the spotlight, and the opportunities that came with it. By now Ronald Weasley was an Auror, next in line to become Head of the DMLE, and Hermione Granger was working her way up in the Department of Mysteries. Not that Harry begrudged them anything, but back then it had stung quite a bit as he hadn't expected his friends, his chosen family, to use him like that. He'd loved his friends, and thought it wasn't honourable to drop a famous name to achieve what they wanted. He had been such a Gryffindor.

Harry himself had declined any rewards or job offers, just wanting to settle down and live a quiet life. And up to a point, it worked. He proposed to Ginny Weasley, bought a big house in the countryside that she liked, and started an apprenticeship to learn how to enchant broomsticks. But after a while he realised that he wasn't really comfortable in that big house, that his name was being used to sell as many brooms as possible for the highest possible prices, and that he didn't like Ginny at all.

Oh, she was a nice enough girl, but without Molly's love potions that was all she was. She hadn't known he had been given those potions, and was quite apologetic, but he was ready to get out of there.

A week later, when a dark wizard with delusions of grandeur showed up and began murdering Aurors, Harry wasn't even surprised when the Ministry asked him to defeat the man. He did so with relatively little effort, packed all his belongings and left the country.

He began his new life as Harry Grey the next day, and never looked back. Over the years he discovered himself, found out what he liked and what he loathed, and he learned. He discovered a drive to learn, to accomplish new things, and to explore the boundaries of magic. He studied runes and the different kind of wards they could build. He learned how new spells were created with arithmancy, and how to adjust existing ones. He was taught about potions, and how the different ingredients worked together to accomplish amazing things. Then he discovered his passion in rituals, the blending of those three disciplines. They were considered dark magic, and mostly not worth the effort, but for someone who knew how to create rituals from scratch, the sky was not the limit. There was no limit. Literally everything was possible, as long as you were willing to pay a price.

Harry Grey was a greatly sought after man. No matter what you wanted, he could provide it. Bitten by a werewolf? Unable to have children? Seeking revenge on your wife's murderer? Wanting to look younger? Lost a leg? No matter what you want, Harry Grey was your man. As long as you could afford him of course. Harry had learned his lesson after the war, and didn't do anything for free. He didn't do anything amoral either, but his morals were a little broader than universally accepted. The world wasn't black and white after all.

Today, on his fiftieth birthday, Harry was going to attempt his newest ritual. He had a client who wanted to know who killed his wife, and it had proven to be a difficult case. The murderers had burned everything down with fiendfyre, so there was nothing left to connect with the murderer, with the deceased or even with the house where it all happened. Harry was now attempting to make a window to the past, so they could see what had happened. His latest result should normally work, but he was in the habit of testing these things himself, especially when the client paid well.

This ritual had to be performed on a site where two ley lines crossed, and required some blood of the person attempting it. Since it wasn't meant to change anything, but just a search for information, the sacrifice was rather light. The only reason there was a physical sacrifice at all was to connect the mind of the caster to the window, ensuring that the right time and place was viewed.

It was still a difficult ritual, since messing with time could be quite dangerous, but Harry shouldn't have had any trouble with it. Unfortunately, right after his blood sacrifice and right before the window would appear, a chimaera ran into the clearing. It disturbed some of the symbols traced around Harry, making the magic around him swirl dangerously. Then a wizard, who had apparently followed the chimaera, tried to hit it with a killing curse. That killing curse missed the chimaera, but hit Harry and the magic around him went crazy.

Harry didn't really have the impression that he had died, but he didn't feel all that great either. There was a green flash as the curse hit him, followed by swirls of nauseating colours and the feeling of a portkey, apparition and floo travel combined into one hellish ride. Then came another flash of green light, and a lot of pain. It felt like his head was going to burst, and there was nothing Harry could do about it. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, he couldn't even scream. Harry was glad when he passed out.

When he woke up again, Harry took an inventory of his body. It was a habit he had learned early on in his childhood, and was reinforced later on in the war. Normally, the most he learned was where exactly it would hurt when he moved, but today he got quite a shock. He was tiny! Harry opened his eyes and saw the sight he had woken up to for many years. The ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys. He blinked and tried to remember what exactly was going on. He remembered the ritual, the chimaera and... Oh god, time travel ritual plus human life sacrifice would generate far too much power to contain. Normally it would cause an explosion, and quite a big one, but since Harry had written down runes to make sure that didn't happen, the energy had to escape another way. It had to do something. And traveling back in time was not expressly forbidden by the symbols he'd written down. The fact that it was the killing curse that killed him would have transported him to the first time he was hit with it, which was October 31st 1981. And since the ritual was originally designed to only affect the mind of the caster, as that was all that was needed to be able to seek and view the right things, it would make sure that only his mind travelled back. All in all, he was lucky that he ended up in his own body, or in any body at all. He could have been floating around Voldemort-style instead. That was probably because of the blood sacrifice, that would connect him to this body. It was a pity that he hadn't come back to when he was seventeen and hit with the curse. But then again, at that time Voldemort shared his blood, so he could very well have ended up in his body. Whew, dodged a bullet there.

So, it was November 1981, he was fifteen months old and in care of the Dursleys. Voldemort was still alive. In less than ten years, the Boy Who Lived would be expected to go to Hogwarts. Harry had quite a lot of options now. Or well, he would, after he could do some rituals to make this tiny body more useful.

Over the years, Harry had performed quite a lot of rituals on himself. The ones on his mind, for an eidetic memory, impenetrable occlumency shield and knowledge of several languages, seemed to have come through time with him. Which made sense, when you thought about it. He would have to do the ones for his body again though. Well, the useful ones at least. The one where he could become see-through at will was funny, but not exactly practical. The one where he got metamorphagus abilities was definitely necessary, and the one where his body couldn't be injured by physical means might be necessary in this house. That last ritual wouldn't protect against magic, like a bone-breaking curse, but it would make his life at the Dursleys infinitely more pleasant. In his time, he had also performed a ritual to repair his eyesight, but that didn't seem to be necessary yet.

Alright, that were two rituals, both needing a blood sacrifice and a mixture of arithmancy and runes. Luckily no potions, because getting ingredients while less than two years old would have been difficult. The one for protecting his body was rather easy, he could probably even do it in his cupboard if he found something to write with, but for gaining the metamorphagus ability he would need more space and time. Maybe when the Dursleys left the house for a couple of hours.

Harry hoped that his body was mobile enough to write all those symbols. He wasn't an expert on kids, but maybe he should practice his fine motor skills before seriously trying anything. And walking. Merlin, he hoped he could walk yet. And talking. He definitely needed to test all this.

A week later, Harry was exhausted. He had relearned to walk, talk and write, and luckily his bladder was now under control. His relatives were as friendly as he remembered, which meant that when they left the house to go to the zoo this morning, Harry was tired, hungry and bruised. He had done the ritual for protecting his body the night before, but the bruises he had already gotten hadn't faded yet. Today he was going to do the metamorphagus ritual, and then he could finally get some control over his life back.

The Dursleys had locked him up in his cupboard, but since his body was impervious to damage he just rammed the door until it broke. He spent the morning marking the correct symbols on the living room floor, and performed the ritual around noon. The first time he had done this, it had taken him weeks to get used to the skill and stop changing hair colour and body shape at random, but as he already know how to control it he could start using it immediately. Harry instantly turned into his preferred appearance, a man of average height with a lean shape, with black hair tied in the nape of his neck and startling blue eyes. His chin and cheekbones were slightly different from his natural appearance, and of course there was no scar. Harry noted that it took more magic to transform than usual, which was probably because of the difference in body mass between a toddler and an adult.

Harry sighed in relief. Now he just needed a wand and he would be all set. He changed into some clothes that his aunt had put into storage after his uncle grew out of them, and apparated from the living room to the entrance of Knockturn Alley. He made his way to the wandmaker there, while grabbing a money pouch from a passerby who was arguing with a hag. It was his own fault for getting distracted in Knockturn Alley, this was where the thieves of the wizarding world made a living. The wandmaker had not as good a reputation as Ollivander, but didn't remember every wand he sold either. It was a lot more discreet, and thus exactly what Harry needed.

An hour later, Harry walked out with a wand of yew and thestral hair. He would be able to do magic until he started Hogwarts. Then the Trace would be applied to him, and wouldn't disappear until he turned seventeen. Unless he discovered something to counteract it, but that was still a long time off.

Harry made his way back to Privet Drive and cleaned up everything he had left from the ritual. He also reparo'd the cupboard door, and made himself something to eat. While munching on his ham and cheese sandwich, he thought about what to do next. He'd contemplated the possibilities during this past week, but still wasn't sure what to do.

He could just disappear. Let Harry Potter die, and start up again as Harry Grey. It would be easy to rebuild his business, and he had been quite content these last years. But he'd grown bored lately. The time viewing ritual was an interesting challenge, but most clients wanted the same things: appearance, power, revenge, money. There said they wanted something specific, but it always boiled down to those results. Harry had spent the last twenty-five years studying rituals. He knew quite a lot from the underlying arithmancy, runes and potions, but was most knowledgeable on how to put those things together. Maybe it was time for a change. He could look into wards again. Or maybe enter the duelling circuit. Or experiment with alchemy. Hell, he could travel the world and learn of different local magics. He could even take a normal job if he wanted. In his past/future, he had only developed the metamorphagus ritual recently, when he was already settled in his business. He hadn't taken a normal day job before, because putting on a disguise each morning to go to work wasn't Harry's idea of normal and a finite at the right time could ruin everything, but now that wouldn't be a problem.

But Voldemort was still around, and he was the Boy Who Lived. He hadn't been able to deal with the public when he was a teenager, but Harry Grey had amassed quite a following as well. He was older now, more experienced, and definitely more Slytherin. It might prove entertaining to be Harry Potter again. He didn't really know the details, but there must have been an enormous amount of power plays and politics during his school years. Back then, he was easily manipulated, but it would be amusing to see what they would make of this Harry Potter. They say politics is an old man's game, but his mind had recently turned fifty after all.

Voldemort would be laying low until his fourth year at Hogwarts, if you didn't count Quirrel in his first year. And looking back, he would have never gotten the philosopher's stone out of the mirror if Harry hadn't been there. The headmaster was already on his way, after all. He just needed to stay out of the man's way, and everything would be fine.

If he destroyed all the horcruxes before then, he could publicly defeat Voldemort after the Tournament. It might need some fine-tuning, but as a basic plan it wasn't too bad.

Thinking about horcruxes, he needed to determine if he was one himself, and find a way to destroy it if he was. He didn't fancy getting hit by another killing curse. Maybe a ritual with an animal sacrifice... It would have to be a magical animal though, maybe a kneazle? Or he could go with the pain for gain variant, that might actually be easier... He would think on it later, for now he had to decide what to do with the Dursleys. It was three o'clock already, and they would probably be home in about an hour. They couldn't exactly force him to do anything. Physical punishment wouldn't work, and if he lacked food or clothes or anything else he could change himself into an adult and use magic to get it.

It was decided. He would do only as many chores as Dudley, which was fair after all, and make sure he got moved to the upstairs bedroom. He wouldn't even need to really do anything for that. If he just made sure there was a bed there that couldn't be moved or broken, which should be easy with a couple of charms, he could go to sleep there every night. Sure, they might want to move him back to the cupboard, but after a couple of weeks they'd get tired of moving him every night. And they couldn't hurt him anymore. It would just be a matter of time.

Harry walked upstairs to his new bedroom. It was still a storage room now, since the Dursleys had only recently moved in here and were still unpacking. Harry transfigured one of the empty boxes in a comfortable children's bed, changed himself back to his natural form and climbed into bed. His body was still very young, and exhausted after this tiring day. He had the presence of mind to change his clothes into children's pyjamas before he fell into an easy sleep.

He was woken by the shrill screams of his aunt and the fact that his uncle threw him into a wall. Not that it hurt him of course, but it wasn't a pleasant way to wake up.

"Good morning to you too." He mumbled.

Apparently it wasn't quiet enough though, as his relatives were astounded by the fact that he could talk in sentences. Or it could be the fact that he didn't seem to be hurt when he should have at least had a concussion. Anyway, Harry would be making clear what was going to happen. Best to get it over with, so he could go back to sleep.

"From now on," he said, looking at his aunt and uncle, "I will be sleeping here and I will only do as many chores as Dudley does."

Harry had hoped that they would understand this, agree and move on, but it seemed that was too optimistic. Vernon grabbed his shoulder and shook him roughly.

"You little freak, not only did your good-for-nothing parents die, but we got saddled with you! We give you food and a roof over your head, but you want more eh, you little piece of shit! Well let me tell you, I won't tolerate that in my house, no no, you will..."

That was when Harry got tired of being roughhoused, and decided to punch Vernon's stomach. Now normally, a punch of a one-year-old wouldn't hurt, but this one-year-old had unbreakable skin and bones, and put quite a lot of power behind it. Vernon stopped in the middle of his sentence, bending over in pain. His bulk might protect him from most punches, but a hard poke in the kidneys always hurts.

When Vernon realised what exactly had happened, he proceeded to beat the shit out of Harry. Harry was rather surprised that he survived his first youth here, without the strengthened body. After a couple of minutes, Vernon seemed to realise that he wasn't causing any damage. He stared at Harry with wide eyes, and was building up to another speech about freaks, when Harry began to talk.

"I will be sleeping here and will only do as many chores as Dudley. This doesn't have to be difficult. I ignore you, you ignore me and everyone is happy. Next year I can go to kindergarten, and you will only have to see me in the evenings. As you have noticed, you can no longer hurt me."

It finally seemed to sink in that they were talking to a one-year-old wizard who was incapable of getting hurt, and spoke as if he was a lot older. All this screamed of freakish stuff, so the Dursleys decided that out of sight would be out of mind, and left the storage room. Harry was just happy that he could go back to sleep.

Over the next year, Harry fell into a comfortable routine. He was a child for most of the day, but occasionally disappeared to handle some affairs. He didn't go into the wizarding world often, but decided to explore the muggle world first. During his past/future life, he had mostly stuck to the wizarding world, and he wanted a change.

Harry set up an identity as Harry Grey and made several investments. He didn't know exactly what companies would be the best, but figured that electronics would be the best bet. He got 100,000 pounds start-up money by robbing a bank, which was really easy with magic, but figured that stealing more would be cheating. It was his goal to be legitimate in the muggle world after all, and it would be rather noticeable if he kept robbing banks every time he wanted to make a large purchase. Harry also bought an apartment in the centre of London, and furnished it for his alias of Harry Grey with a complete wardrobe. He didn't go there often, but if he wanted to relax or watch a movie in peace he had somewhere to go.

When he was pretending to be a child, he read a lot. He glamoured the covers to look like picture books, and settled down in the park for a couple of hours every day. He read about history, biology, psychology, … Harry was fifty years old and had only a primary school education. He was fascinated by what the muggles knew. In the wizarding world, almost all knowledge was practical. You learned a spell, the spell had that effect. Potions, runes and arithmancy all had some basics that you had to learn, but then it was just a matter of fitting them together to do what you want. A bit like a puzzle, actually. A difficult puzzle, granted, with many different outcomes, but still just a puzzle. In the muggle world, there was just so much basic knowledge. And new things were being discovered every day! Most of the knowledge had some practical application, if you kept studying the field deeply enough, but Harry was just interested in the knowledge for now.

But he didn't study all the time, he also discovered fiction. He started with the classics out of curiosity, and never stopped reading. When he was younger, Harry was never allowed to read or do well in school, so he never knew the joy of reading stories. Now that he had discovered them, he had his new hobby. He went to Diagon Alley once to get a library trunk, because he didn't want his room to overflow. His relatives wouldn't be happy with that, and now they finally had some peace he wanted to keep it that way.

His aunt and uncle had been rather predictable in trying to bend him to their will. The locks on his room he magicked away. When they didn't provide food he got take out and ate it at the table with them. When they threw garbage on his bed, he warded his room to keep them out. When they kept yelling at him, he just ignored them. It was quite amusing for Harry, but his relatives quickly got frustrated and gave up. They didn't get that bad a deal after all.

When Harry went to kindergarten, he kept to himself. He didn't want to make friends with these muggles, especially since they were only two years old. Making friends would require acting like a two-year old, and he wasn't about to do that, no matter how cute some of the kids were. He didn't want to seem too smart either. He could arrange to skip a couple of classes, but he didn't think he could start college this soon and whether he was wasting time in kindergarten or a couple of grades higher didn't make that big a difference. He kept bringing books with the covers glamoured and just ignored the annoying kids. He did convince his teacher to teach him how to play the guitar during breaks. It took him a long time to get a hang of it, but by the time he got to Hogwarts, Harry would be quite good.

It surprised Harry that Dudley wasn't that big of a bully this time around. It was probably because he wasn't taught at home to act that way, and it was a nice surprise. Dudley might actually grow up to be a decent human being.

By the time his Hogwarts letter came, Harry had experienced the muggle world. He'd studied science, learned to work with electronics, went to the movies and bars, entered a nightclub, saw museums, explored London and on one memorable day he even took a plane. He figured out that a plane was even worse than the floo, and resolved to stick with apparition from now on. At least that was over quickly.

When his Hogwarts letter arrived in the mail, Harry began a conversation at the breakfast table. This surprised his relatives, since he usually kept to himself.

"My Hogwarts letter came today. I will be leaving for school at September 1st."

The Dursleys' reaction differed. Vernon turned purple, but kept quiet. He'd learned over the years that this approach seemed to make Harry go away the fastest. Petunia paled, and was about to start ranting about freaks and questioning where he had heard of the school, when she realised Harry would be gone for most of the year. Dudley kept shovelling food into his mouth, and started asking questions.

"What's Hogwarts? Is it some kind of institution for scarily smart kids or something? I bet it will be one huge group of nerds there."

Dudley wasn't a bully, but he didn't exactly become a nice guy either. Although there was a compliment hidden in there somewhere.

"It's a school for wizards, Dudley," Harry said, "It's where we go and learn how to use our magic."

"Magic doesn't exist!" Dudley yelled out.

"Honestly Dudley, you have punched me in the face without any effects. What else would that be but magic?"

The boy had to think about that.

"I always thought that was rather strange. Useful though. Can I learn that too?"

Harry was struck speechless. He snuck a look at aunt Petunia, and saw she was looking on the brink of a heart attack.

"No Dudley, you didn't get a letter, which means that you don't have magic."

Dudley looked as if he wanted to start whining that he wanted to be a wizard too, but then he finally noticed his parents' expressions and decided to keep quiet.

After breakfast, Harry conjured a robe and went to Diagon Alley as Harry Potter for the first time since he came back. He had some galleons left over from the last time he came, and went to the post office to send an owl to professor McGonagall. He didn't want to be swamped with letters like last time.

After that, Harry made his way to Gringotts. He didn't have his key, but after an audience with one of the goblin tellers that was quickly rectified. A drop of blood on a potion-drenched parchment spread out to form his name, thus proving that he really was Harry Potter. He got the lock on his vault changed so only his new key could open it, and thanked the goblins for their assistance. No reason to be rude to the beings that held your money, after all.

After a quick trip down to his vault, Harry exited the bank with a pouch that almost burst with galleons. He had spent the last ten years almost exclusively in the muggle world, and was due for a shopping trip of massive proportions. Harry Potter needed to buy his school supplies, and maybe some extras, and after that Harry Grey would take a look around for several items that weren't childproof.

AN: Well, this is all I've got so far. It's just a premise of how Harry would go back in time, and a genereal idea of what kind of personality he would have. I really like the idea, but I'm at a loss on how to proceed. I mean, Harry will kill Voldemort at some point because the man is certifiably insane, but that's about the only goal he really has. I mean, I want to write about what the Boy-Who-Lived could accomplish if he set his mind to it, but at this point Harry doesn't really have a goal in life that he can start working towards. So, if anyone has any ideas, I would welcome the help :) This premise is good, but it needs to be fleshed out a little and the story needs a plot...