There was the sound of repeated hoots that intruded on Harry's hearing. The hoots were loud, right near his ear, and insistent, pulling him out of his unconscious state.
He groaned softly as sensations came back to him, keeping his eyes closed, he tried to take stock of his body. Many years of fighting and injuries had made him very aware of his body, and the various physical aches and pains. However, at the moment… nothing in his body hurt. Harry wondered if his body had gone into a deep shock, or if he was dead. He did remember a bright light.
Another loud hoot interrupted his thoughts, and this time it was accompanied by nip on his ear that was strong enough to convince him that he likely wasn't dead, since he felt the pain of the nip. "Owww! Hedwig!"
Harry finally opened his eyes as his hand went to the offended ear. He was tempted to scold his familiar, but knew it wouldn't do any good. She had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and he had long ago learned to listen to her. It had saved him from walking into a trap or getting ambushed more than once. Not to mention her companionship had probably kept him relatively sane over the course of the past few years.
Harry looked around and realized that he was in an alleyway next to a building. Judging by the cars he could see and the people walking past the entrance of the alleyway, he was in muggle London.
Seeing her human finally wake up, Hedwig took off into the air, and away from his position. Now that he was no longer face down in an alley, she was clearly on a mission.
Harry groaned and slowly started to stand, surprised that his body seemed to respond so easily, without the normal aches and pains he'd become accustomed to. Halfway to a standing position he froze.
He was seeing. Naturally. With two eyes. There were none of the constant x-raying his magical eye had given him. Very slowly, Harry put his hand up to the right side of his face. His face was intact, his eye, his REAL eye was still there.
Harry was stunned speechless. He ran his hands over his face again to double check to find the same result. His fingers slid higher, under the shaggy hair he had, and over his forehead and traced the all too familiar pattern of the lightning bolt scar that was there. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"
Harry tried to figure out what was going on. He still had his scar so he wasn't under some polyjuice potion. He decided to inspect his appearance. So with a snap of his wrist, one of his wands was in his hand.
With a wave of his wand he conjured a mirror. He took one look in the mirror, and his entire body froze in shock, though his hands began to tremble slightly. The reflection in the mirror wasn't his reflection; or at least it hadn't been his reflection in several years.
The face that stared back at Harry in the mirror was him, but it was Harry as he'd appeared years ago. His missing right eye had been restored, the burn mark from a curse that had cut him to his jaw bone along the left side of his face was also gone. He moved his tongue around in his mouth and realized that a tooth Harry had lost from the club of a demon that had hit him in the face was back in its rightful place.
He did not look like a man of 23, and a veteran of what seemed like a lifetime of constant fighting. In fact, Harry thought he looked like a kid in his teens.
Harry just stared at the reflection, trying to figure out what was going on. He glanced down at himself. His entire body felt different. For Harry, who'd spent the last several years of his life listening to the warnings from his body, it was one of the most disconcerting feelings he had ever encountered.
Harry frowned and pulled up his sleeve. The fabric on the dragonhide armor was loose and baggy, and came up with ease, as if it had gotten bigger.
Or as if I've shrunk. Harry thought to himself.
"What the fuck is going on?" Harry blurted out loud as he stared at the baggy outfit.
He didn't expect an answer so he took a deep and calming breath, and reached inside himself for the core of his magic. He felt some tiny relief when it was there, pulsing and strong. However, unlike the ball of power that was solid and ready to be used whenever it was needed; his core seemed larger, and the energy inside him seemed restless, and agitated. It no longer sat there, ready and humming inside him contently as it waited to be used. Instead, it practically surged inside him with an almost conscious and insistent desire to be released.
Harry withdrew his mind and opened his eyes again. He wondered if the spell that Voldemort cast was intended to have this effect, and wondered if it had the same effect on the snake-faced bastard as well.
Not for the first time he wished he had Hermione with him. "She'd probably be able to explain everything as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Or ask for a little bit of time to do research and then in less time than it'd take most people to find a book she'd be able to explain everything," Harry mused to himself.
Of course, if the simplest explanation was the most likely, then Harry realized it was possible that his mind had given up its tenuous grasp on reality and he'd simply gone completely 'round the twist.
Harry frowned again and pulled up the sleeve and undid the straps on his glove. His wand holster was strapped there, and there on the back of his hand was the faint scars from the blood quill he had been forced to use.
However, but he found several scars on that same arm, from deep cuts he'd received in battle were gone as well. He pulled the sleeve up further, past his elbow and saw that the nasty scar on his right arm from where the basilisk had bitten him over a decade ago was still there.
He frowned and shifted, both of his hands going up his back and chest. He could feel the criss crossing of scarring on his back and the patches of rough skin on his sides and chest that were memories of his youth and his less than stellar upbringing.
Years of living in a cupboard, his relatives "tender care" as well as his cousin's ever so creative sessions of "Harry Hunting" had left more than their share of scars.