"Yeah," Sirius said while struggling to hold a struggling 2-year-old who had a mind of his own. Little Eric knew that if hadn't been for the diaper these tall people insisted he wear, that his daddy would be wearing a new yellow-wet look right now. "Where's our Harry? What have you done with him?" he joked.
Harry's heart immediately began racing. "Sorry Uncle Sirius." He couldn't look at them at the moment. He was in another dimension. He wondered if he would have to go home if they found out?
"Since when do you call Sirius 'Uncle Sirius'?" James replied.
Harry's frown deepened. He had a guilty look but didn't say anything. He couldn't reveal to them who he was.
"Look, Harry, we're not mad at you if that's what you're thinking," his dad soothed. "Here. We found your glasses earlier and were going to make you stew over them at dinner, but it's not funny any longer. Your broom, however, was a total loss. I guess you were getting a little too big for it anyway."
Harry took the glasses but didn't put them on. He'd charm them later to look like regular glasses even though he'd convert them back to simple uncorrected lenses. This may be a different Harry's body, but his eye correction spellwork he'd done months ago was still working fine.
"Thanks," he said simply. "I… it's nothing. I just… need some space. Good night dad, mum, uncle Sirius, I love you all." Harry closed his eyes to keep his emotions under control. He couldn't believe he was that close to blubbering again. His emotions were simply out of control in this body.
"Here's some leftover dinner, if you want it," his mother put a plate on the dresser.
As the adults left, Sirius looked at James and Lily. "You know, the way he speaks, he sounded like he's about to die or leave," Sirius said in a concerned voice.
"Well he is going to go Hogwarts this fall," James replied. "He got a notice from Minerva yesterday that he was being accepted to Hogwarts and that he'd get his official letter later in July."
Lily was just silent. She was just as confused as ever.
After inhaling the leftovers, Harry then began to work out. While his new body was for the most part healthy, it had little in the way of muscle mass. So he decided it was time to start getting in shape. Sit ups, push ups, tai chi, pull ups, cardio exercises, anaerobic exercises. Just a little to start with to get his muscles used to it - the next few weeks were going to be hell for him as is since he now needed to get in shape. If he had to fight Voldemort here, and there was every indication that the dark tosser was still alive, he would need his strength to do him in when the time came. Maybe Neville didn't need the help, but it never hurt to be prepared.
What Harry had read in the history books amazed him. Voldemort, while still being a dark lord, wasn't as cold-blooded in this world as he'd been in the last. If that were still the case, then there was every chance that Harry could become far stronger than Voldemort. With that thought, he went to sleep after his workout.
...
"Harry?"
… groan
"Harry, are you all right?"
"… mrglzpsfx," said a voice.
"He's not responding like he normally does, headmaster. There's something definitely off with him."
Professor Albus Dumbledore, supreme wizard and all that rot kneeled down to look at his favorite student. He knew he wasn't supposed to have favorites, but in Harry's case he had made an exception. "How are you feeling Mr. Potter? You gave us all a scare when you did not return to school last night. Come, it is time to wake from the land of Morpheus."
Together, Ron and Hermione helped Harry into a sitting position near Ginny's grave. Harry had finally come around. "Who are you?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Harry, that's not funny. If you wanted to stay here all night, you should have let someone know. We've all been worried sick that you might have been attacked."
"Attacked? Why would anyone want to attack me? I want my mom and dad," Harry looked around frantically. "And where's my broom?" Harry got up and started looking for his broom.
Frowning, Albus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to get him to stop for a moment. "Harry, do you know who I am?"
Harry squinted and made out some rough outlines. "Sure I know you. You're Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. I read about you on the back of a Chocolate Frog card," he said while patting his pockets. "Has anyone seen my glasses? I can't find them."
Ron stared in horror at his headmaster. "Harry got his vision corrected last year. He doesn't need glasses."
"Ron, that correction was based partly on the belief that it would work," Hermione stated. "That being the case, if he doesn't think it will work then he needs his glasses. But what I'm more concerned with is that he said he wanted his parents. Harry? Your parents died, remember?"
"What? When did that happen? Oh, god. Does Uncle Sirius or Uncle Remus know?" Harry started hyperventilating as tears began rolling down his face. "Wait a minute, how do you know? Who are all you people?"
A frown firmly entrenched on his face, Albus asked, "Harry? How old are you?"
"I turn 11 next month, why?"
"Ron, why don't you help young Mr. Harry here search for his glasses while I discuss some things with Miss Granger."
"Righto."
"Your thoughts, Miss Granger?"
"He doesn't remember us. He thinks he's 11 again. He thinks his parents, Remus, and Sirius are all alive. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he's got a case of Shell Shock. He's been so traumatized by what happened that he reverted back to just before he started Hogwarts. It's a coping mechanism."
"What are treatment options?"
"Headmaster, I am not a psychologist and can only give guesses here. It's possible that he may revert back to our Harry later today, and it's possible that he may never snap out of it. If you're concerned about him protecting himself, then I strongly suggest we get him to start school again this fall as a first year. He definitely needs an education."