The violent sensation subsided far more quickly than it had begun.
When Harry finally managed to open his eyes, he found himself in the same room—yet it was unmistakably different.
Gone were the training equipment and open space he had used for spell practice.
In their place stood cabinets filled with Time-Turners and tables covered in delicate, intricate instruments.
Harry felt nauseous, though not as badly as he had feared.
He quickly checked on Hedwig and made sure all his shrunken belongings had survived the journey before heading for the exit.
He barely made it two steps before colliding with a much younger-looking Filmore.
“Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing in my room?” the man growled.
Harry silently pulled out the badge Croaker had given him and held it up.
Filmore’s eyes widened comically.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered.
“I didn’t know.”
Harry stifled the chuckle that threatened to escape and simply nodded before leaving the room.
He managed to exit the Department of Mysteries without further incident.
He left the Ministry atrium and apparated into a locked toilet cubicle in a nearby Muggle building.
Once inside, he removed the dark grey cloak, locked the door, and sat down heavily on the closed toilet lid.
He buried his head in his hands and cried.
Silent tears fell for everyone he had left behind.
He cried from the overwhelming mix of emotions crashing through him—grief and loss, fear and excitement, sadness and fragile hope.
It was all too much.
For months he had been strong.
Now, alone for the first time, he finally let it out.
When the tears finally stopped, he dried his face, took a deep, steadying breath, and stood up.
It was time to face what lay ahead.
He felt profoundly alone, even with Hedwig by his side.
Sighing, he left the cubicle and apparated to Diagon Alley to begin putting his plan into motion.
He appeared near the brick wall leading to the Leaky Cauldron and tapped the familiar pattern with his wand.
The bricks rearranged themselves, and he stepped through.
The pub was noticeably different—less worn, brighter, and bustling with life.
Almost every table was occupied by witches and wizards chatting and laughing over drinks.
For the first time in his life, Harry walked through the wizarding world without people staring or crowding him.
He could definitely get used to that.
He approached the bar, where a much younger Tom greeted him with a warm, toothy smile.
His hair was still mostly grey but flecked with brown.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”
“I’d like a room, please.”
“And how long will you be needing it?” Tom asked, reaching for a key.
“I’m not sure yet,” Harry replied.
“I’ll pay for a week now and extend it if necessary.”
“Very good, sir.” Tom led him up the stairs, unlocked a door, and showed him inside.
“This should be sufficient. Private bathroom, breakfast included. Twelve Galleons for the week.”
Harry was pleasantly surprised by the modest price.
He paid, thanked Tom, and waited until the man left before resizing his trunk and retrieving more gold for the day’s shopping.
He sat on the bed and released Hedwig from her cage.
She immediately hopped onto his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek affectionately.
“Do you think we should write to Dumbledore?” Harry asked her.
“Go straight to Hogwarts instead?”
Hedwig bobbed her head enthusiastically.
“You’re right, girl,” Harry chuckled.
“This needs to be done in person.” He opened the window.
“Want to stretch your wings? It’s been a while since you’ve had fresh air.”
Hedwig hooted eagerly and flew out.
Harry watched her go, knowing she would return when she was ready.
He cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself—he didn’t want to draw attention by looking so much like his father before speaking with Dumbledore—then left the pub to explore Diagon Alley as it existed in 1976.
The street itself hadn’t changed drastically, though some shops were different and the ones he recognized looked newer and fresher.
He bought a copy of the Daily Prophet from a nearby stand.
“August 14th, 1976,” he whispered in relief.
The timing had worked perfectly.
With the date confirmed, he headed to a newly opened Madame Malkin’s and bought an entire wardrobe.
The styles were eccentric, but he kept things simple, choosing fitted jeans over the flared trousers she recommended.
The rest of his purchases were neutral enough that he was reasonably satisfied.
He also bought shoes, trainers, and exercise clothes, honoring his promise to Filmore to keep training.
Afterward, he stopped at Quality Quidditch Supplies and purchased a Comet 200—the best broom available.
It wasn’t his Firebolt, but it would do for now.
He considered opening a Gringotts account to store his massive pile of gold but decided against it for the time being.
Unwanted questions could complicate things.
He would simply have to carry it with him for now.
With his shopping complete, Harry returned to his room at the Leaky Cauldron.
He would visit Hogwarts the next day.
There was no point delaying the inevitable any longer.
Everything depended on tomorrow’s meeting with Dumbledore, and the thought left him more than a little anxious.