Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 1– Travelling to the unknown

Harry James Potter, famously known as The-Boy-Who-Lived but was now just The-Boy-Who-Lost, hobbled down a rocky path with a cane supporting his weight, a tired eye constantly scanning his surroundings with well reasoned paranoia.

His left leg was ruined worse than Dumbledore's arm had, Dark veins and dried crust growing along the shin and thigh. Even a single twitch sent shivers of biting cold pain through the cursed leg, but he simply gritted his teeths and kept moving.

He cannot afford to miss this. Innocent lives depended on it.

Of course, his cursed fate just had to make his already miserably life more difficult.

He lost his balance, the single good feet slipping upon a smooth rock. The cane dropped first before he fell on his back with a thud, his flailing hands unable to find purchase anywhere.

Pain lit up through his back like a lightning bolt, zigzagging throughout his spine and making him arch back in agony.

"Fuck's sake." Harry cursed, pushing himself up with a groan and ignoring the cracks coming from his back. "Always a bloody rock..."

He sat cross-legged in the middle of the road, taking a quick break to gather his breath. A part of his mind wandered, remembering the painful journey that his life was on right now.

4 years it has been. 4 years since the death of Albus Dumbledore. 4 years since he'd first undertaken this worthless mission, trusting his mentor's plan without a moment of doubt. And where did that bring him? In the middle of fucking nowhere, hobbling around like a one-legged troll.

The war had started fine, with the order making their stand in Hogwarts while Harry and his friends went along with their quest to hunt down horcruxes.

Things were difficult. Oh yes, very difficult. But atleast they had some vague hope that perhaps once the horcruxes were destroyed, Voldemort would just fall flat on his face and die.

Well, he'd destroyed the horcruxes. All six of them, including nagini. It took a lot of time and blood, but they'd done it.

The thing was...nothing happened. Oh sure, tommy got a bit more cautious, a bit more paranoid, and a bit more hurried...but so what? There was no one to take him down, no one to take advantage of his brief moments of weakness.

People thought Harry could defeat him, but the simple words always made him crack up. Three times he'd dueled the man after destroying his horcruxes, only to get his arse handed to him like a fucking child. No matter what Harry did, no matter how ruthless he got, no matter what preparation he made for the pale bastard... Voldemort always came out on top. Every single time. Perhaps a little injured sometimes, but always alive. And even with his friends help, Harry barely got away with his life.

They must have defended the castle for over a year before his death eaters finally broke in, while he and his friends tried to think up a solution. Dumbledore's portrait had been as useless as the real man, speaking in riddles and vagueness.

'Neither can die while the other survives.' These were the only words the old bastard was willing to offer.

But what the bloody hell did they mean? That Harry must die? But then who would kill voldemort?

He didn't know. Though he'd tried his best, even willing to give up his life, but his army wouldn't let him. His friends, his people, they convinced him otherwise. To keep fighting on, to keep leading them forward.

Well, he'd done that. And look where they were now.

Hogwarts was conquered, and the order killed off, along with all of his friends. The ministry belonged to Voldemort completely, and right now the man didn't even care about Harry too much, preferring to expand his rule globally.

And Harry could do nothing to stop him. An injured rat he was, nothing more. All that chosen one nonsense was just that. Nonsense.

When the castle fell, they'd run away; Him, Ron, and Hermoine. Along with half a dozen DA. And to be honest, the first year that they'd been on the run were perhaps some of the best moments of his life. With Ginny in his arms and his friends by his side. Sure, they had to run like cowards, but so what? Atleast they'd been alive.

Not for long though.

Ginny was the first to go; killed by Alecto Carrow's killing curse. They'd been ambushed out of nowhere, a betrayer amongst their number.

The rest followed soon– Dean, Ron, Neville...all gone. Finnigan had turned out to be the traitor, and for the first time in his life, Harry had successfully cast the killing curse, putting down one of his own.

He never regretted it.

With only Hermoine by his side, they'd left the country, intending to never look back.

Clearly, the fate had other plans for him, because the death eaters found them merely a year later.

Hermoine's death had hit the hardest. Some would think after losing so many people he would've grown used to it, but the truth was– You can never get used to losing your loved ones. They'd grown close, Hermoine and him. On the run with no hope of survival, and knowing the time was ticking, they'd grown close. Closer than they'd ever been.

And he had hoped, just for a moment, that perhaps things weren't over yet. Maybe he and Hermoine could settle down in the muggle world. Just forget about the prophecy and let Voldemort be other's problem. The worst thing was, he knew Hermoine wanted the same. He knew she was just waiting for him to say it.

And he would've too...Had Bellatrix Lestrange not found them first. He could've taken Bellatrix anyday, and with a bit of luck may have even killed her. Especially with Hermoine at his side.

But she hadn't come alone. Emperor Voldemort had come to tie up the lose ends.

That night he had well and truly lost for the final time. Voldemort just played around with them, before finally, agonisingly slowly, he killed Hermoine.

With her death, all of his resistance had gone out like a light. But Voldemort didn't want to end his opponent; apparently he'd learned some secret, making him hesitant to kill Harry. Instead, he'd let Bellatrix ruin him with a terrible dark curse and let him run away.

And he had run away. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he'd run away promising vengeance.

A promise he'd come to realise that he would never successfully keep.

Voldemort was simply too strong for Harry to do anything.

At his peak, Harry could've held his own against the best of death-eaters. Now? A couple of grunts were enough to bring him down.

A drop of rain broke him out of his reverie, and he stared at the suddenly darkening sky tiredly.

With a sigh, he removed the holly wand from his torn down holster and a quick wave later, his cane jumped back in his hands. His speed and dexterity may have gone to shit, but his magic was as powerful as ever.

He pushed himself up to his feets, starting his way down the rocky path again as the rain picked up pace.

His destination was Hogwarts courtyard.

While the man didn't wish to kill him, Voldemort still found other ways to torture Harry. One of his most favourite one was to execute Harry's former friends in front of the castle grounds, making it a public spectacle. Every weekend, right at 6'o clock in the evening, an innocent died on the grounds amidst a mocking and taunting crowd of spectators.

Of course, Harry was always given a special invitation to watch. In fact, his presence was mandatory or else the madman would do worse.

You'd think someone as broken as Harry could just shrug off such empty threats but apparently not. His 'saving people' thing just couldn't stomach the idea of his friends dying because of him. Had they been strangers, he

Honestly? He couldn't care less. His 'Saving people thing' had died 3 years ago alongside Hermoine. Such empty threats were easily shrugged off by him nowadays. But still, he followed the Dark douchebag's orders because there was nothing else to do. He couldn't hide, he couldn't run, he couldn't fight... there's nothing to do for him but die.

So he dragged himself through the dusty trail, because Voldemort wasn't kind enough to give him permission to apparate inside the wards.

Halfway through the trail road, his cane slipped off a wet rock again and he fell down once more. Only a grunt left him as his glasses slipped from his face and were crushed under his butt while he tried to get up.

With a long sigh, he sat back down as the rain really started hollering down the street, his already blurry eyesight now becoming totally useless.

Taking a seat on one of the drier rocks, he absently Transfigured a piece of trash into a functional umbrella and huddled under its shade.

Sometimes he wondered why he was still going on. Even Voldemort didn't want him to die, surely he couldn't find a more better reason to off himself now. The smoldering embers of vengeance were drenched up and gone a long time ago. Surely a quick Avada Kedavra would finally give him some rest? And who knows, Perhaps there actually was an afterlife waiting for him, and by some miracle he might not go to hell and be reunited with Moine' again?

...Yeah, right.

Harry sighed again, leaning back to rest against a concrete pillar while letting the umbrella hang in the air with a bit of Wandless magic.

Now freed, his hand wandered up to his neck, removing the locket that he'd so carefully kept safe and hidden.

It was a time-turner. Something 'Moine had picked up back in their adventure through the ministry. Ever since dumbledore's death, she'd been working on the thing to try and change its properties. This was supposed to be their back-up plan if all else failed, meant to take any one person almost a decade back in time.

Unfortunately, she'd never managed to finish it. Time was something that even she cannot understand, even with all her brilliance and genius. Harry had simply been carrying the locket with him as a lucky charm, never intending to use the thing. Especially because 'Moine specifically warned him never to use it. It was too unstable, and too unpredictable, with potential to tear up their entire world.

But now he found himself wondering...why not? Sure, there was a chance that the world might get destroyed, but strangely he found himself simply not caring enough to give a rats arse about it. Or well, not so strange really. When was the last time he cared about another life? The thought of causing the world's destruction put absolutely no pressure on his conscience.

And as another spasm of pain wrecked across his body, Harry Potter came upon a reckless decision all of a sudden in the middle of a rocky trail. He'd never planned to do this, never even dreamt of doing this before.

But he just couldn't take this anymore. Plus, most of his life-changing decisions came as a spur of the moment thing, even if they didn't always work out in his favour...and this time the stacks were even higher.

Harry was risking the entire world on his decision.

"Eh, whatever." He shrugged, muttering softly through the rain. "Better the world burn rather than be under Tommy's rule."

And then, before his sane part could talk him out of it, he twisted the time-turner three times Anti-clockwise.

Nothing happened.

"Oh for Merlin's sake..." Harry groaned. He hadn't even considered the possibility that the thing might not be working anymore.

"Bloody bullocks...why can't the fate ju–" His cursing came to an abrupt end when all of a sudden a chasm opened up under him.

There was no time to do anything. No time to make sense of things, no time to resist...the chasm just opened up and swallowed him whole.

And then Harry Potter found his eyes getting heavy, his mind stretching to impossible limits as he felt himself become undone.

The last thing he thought before the darkness took him was; 'Time-travelling is bloody painful.'

Harry Potter opened his eyes, emerald green eyes staring at the dusty old ceiling in confusion before lighting up in recognition.

He was currently in private drive, Surrey. A place he hadn't seen in over 3-4 years.

"It worked." He whispered, a flicker of incredulity breaking through the cold wall that he'd built around himself. "Hermoine, you bloody genius. It worked."

Who could've thought? Even he had his moments of doubt. Time-travel could make the most jaded being balk. But clearly, his doubts were unfounded.

Even through her grave, his best friend turned lover never failed to surprise him.

For the first time in a long long while, Harry Potter dared to hope. Just a flickering sense of excitement and relief, that perhaps he may yet have a chance to salvage his world.

If everything worked out like it was meant to, then he was currently 6 years in the past, just before the return of his most hated enemy. All those dead and forgotten in the war were now alive and well. What a shame though, knowing these people wouldn't even know him. The men and women who he'd bled for and fought with, who he'd led through the toughest of times, would see him as a complete stranger.

But that was life. Nothing ever worked out perfectly.

And loneliness was something that he'd become accustomed to over his years on the run.

But that wasn't important. The vital point was that he had a chance now. A chance to change everything. A change to rewrite history. And most importantly, a chance to bury voldemort before he even came into power.

How many days had he spent cursing all those missed opportunities? Cursing himself for being such a fool, as he sat alone regretting his life choices. If only he could've killed Pettigrew before he had a chance to revive voldemort, if only he could've saved Cedric...and Sirius...and tonks, and Ron, and lupin, and luna, and Ginny...and Hermoine... If only he'd been better, been stronger and smarter...if only he'd done countless little things that could've changed the face of war. There were days when he did nothing except regret his past as he ran from Tom like a coward, too weak to put any kind of resistance, too late to change things...

Well, now he had the chance. And there was no god or mortal alive who could stop him from using it.

Harry Potter was now willing to do whatever it takes. He knew exactly what was in the future, so he needed no more motivation to do his absolute best.

But first, he needed a solid plan. The times where he jumped into danger half-arsed were long gone. And for a solid plan, he needed information.

His mind set, and fire coursing through his viens, Harry quickly got up from the bed, ready to start his mission...which came to a quick stop when he actually took a look around.

This wasn't his room.

Oh sure, the house was definitely the Dursley residence, and this room's ceiling was quite similar to his old room, and even the outside view was exactly the same...it just wasn't his room. This massive thing was easily twice as big as any room in the Dursley house. Or atleast, the house that he remembered.

But the biggest difference wasn't the size. It was the absurdly large Slytherin posters and magical items spread around the room. There was even a moving picture of a female quidditch player zooming through the air.

There was no bloody way the Dursleys were ever going to let their little 'freak' keep something magical so openly.

What does that conclude? Harry didn't know for certain. But he had some very disturbing ideas what it could be.

Suddenly it began dawning on Harry that he might've celebrated a little too early.

Time-travel has always been an obscure paradoxical concept, way out of any Wizard's imagination, maybe save for those unspeakables who made it their life's goal to understand the mysteries of their world. Certainly outside of Harry's understanding, who hadn't even completed his 7th year in Hogwarts.

So was it truly surprising that something had gone wrong? Well, no, he wasn't surprised. Hermoine had literally warned something could go wrong, and he was ready for it. But that didn't mean he liked these changes.

And as his eyes took in every small detail, confirming the fact that this was indeed his old room in the Dursley house, only changed to an absurd degree...he began to grow tired.

Just...why can't things go according to plan for once?

'This isn't the time for self-pity, Harry.' He scolded himself, taking a deep breath while pushing down the growing sense of urgency with his rudimentary skills in occlumency...only to receive another surprise when he was able to completely control his emotions to a degree he had never been able to achieve before. The surprise was pushed down instantly; the panic, the fear of unknown, the anxiety... everything was reduced behind a curtain of silent logic.

Cool and calm, his mind analysised the situation with a speed and accuracy he'd never experienced. And while his mind worked in an overdrive, he searched the room for any possible explanation.

A small part of his mind wondered if this was how it felt to be a genius, before being pushed aside as the situation became clear.

He was not in his own past.

Why? Because first, and the most obvious reason, the Slytherin posters. Harry Potter was not, and never will be, a fan of the house of snakes.

Second, the room he was currently residing in was much more luxurious than anything he'd ever lived in. And there was simply no way the Dursleys would be kind enough to let him have anything nice. Plus, there was literally no room this luxurious in Dursley house to begin with.

Third, and perhaps the most disturbing one, was his thoughts. The way he was currently thinking inside his mind was just too well organised, and too... fast.

Harry would never call himself a genius. Oh sure, he wasn't as dumb as say, Crabbe or Goyle. But neither was he anywhere near Hermoine when it came to processing information. And the way his mind was working right now...yeah. He felt like a bloody genius.

The daily prophet suggested the date to be 5th of July, 1994. Which meant the summer holidays had just started.

And his mind quickly connected the dots. Harry Potter had come back in time just before the year of Voldemort's return, which meant that the timing of his jump was correct...just that his destination was fucked.

The question was, did it truly matter?

Sure, the situation may not be the ideal one he'd been imagining, but just because he was in a different past didn't mean his goals changed. Voldemort was no doubt still the big bad dark lord with wet dreams of world domination.

And now, Harry was in a position to stop the–

His thoughts were cut off as a sudden flash of pain assulted him out of nowhere.

"Fuck..." He clutched his head in a tight vase, pushing in down on the soft pillows. "What in Morgana's accursed name..."

But it didn't stop there.

Very quickly, the pain lit up his entire head like a firework, his viens pounding inside like a drum.

"Blood hell..." He gasped, the constant pounding forcing him to tunnel down in the bed further.

The headache was unnaturally strong, making him writhe helplessly, unable to call for help and unable to think clearly... until atlast his body simply couldn't take it anymore and he let loose a scream of pure agony.

The world grew darker, shadows tricking his vision as his reality shifted from the bleary view that his half-closed eyes could make out.

And just a few minutes into his new life, Harry James potter dropped on the floor, unconscious.

His last thought simply cursing the fate for whatever new shit it was about to throw at him.

Harry Potter had no idea where the hell he was now.

It was a white...room? Hall? Hell? He couldn't guess, though it certainly wasn't heaven. Not after everything he'd done in his past life.

The only thing his eyes could see was white. The pure whiteness stretched out in all directions as far as his vision extended. The entire world may be curtain of white for him right now.

"Um, who are you?" A hesitant voice called out, and Harry quickly turned around, his hand going for his holster...

...Only to realise that he was completely naked.

Worse, occlumency seemed to have abandoned him completely. Even the pathetic rudimentary shields he had managed to cultivate in his previous life.

That didn't mean he was embarrassed about his nudity though. Harry Potter had long since burnt away such mortal insecurities.

"Oh Merlin, Just Will your clothes to existence and stop flashing me please." The shy voice was now laced with amusement and discomfort.

But of course, just because he was fine with it didn't mean others will be.

He closed his eyes and followed the unknown voice's instructions.

The next moment his body was fully clothed, and the voice gave an audible sigh of relief.

Only then did the unknown voice finally reveal itself, taking the figure of a young boy that came to stand in front of him. 14, perhaps 15, the boy stood with unblinking eyes.

With Well-defined cheekbones and a sharp jaw, the boy had the kind of handsome, aristocratic face that Harry had once envied in the past, when he actually had cared for things like looks and physique. But when the boy looked at him, by far the feature that truly caught Harry's attention were the eyes; Emerald green eyes the shade of a killing curse.

His own eyes stared back at him with caution and confusion.

"So, um..not to he rude or anything but...what are you doing here?" The boy asked hesitatingly.

"What am I doing here?" Harry snorted. "Who the fuck knows. How about we start with who you are, eh?"

It seems it was the wrong thing to ask, because instantly the boy was on guard, anger flashing in his eyes. "Who am I? You enter my mind without permission and ask me about my presence?"

"Calm down, mate." Harry rolled his eyes, unused to extended amount of conversations. Running from Voldemort had left him quite out of practice with talking. "No need to get your undies in a twist. If you have some answers, Great. If not, then just shut up for a moment."

If anything, the boy seemed to grow even more angry, and harry realised he was talking to a teenager. A phase where any hit to the ego was taken like a personal attack.

"You have ten seconds before my occlumency shields push you out." The boy announced coldly.

Harry ignored him in favour of analysing the situation.

Obviously by now it was clear to him that he was inside the mind of the previous owner of this body. Not that he was going to reveal it cause he doubted the reaction he will recieve would be great.

If his future self came knocking and announced himself to be the new owner of their body, Harry wouldn't take it kindly either.

Honestly, Harry had no idea what to do right now. He never wanted to actually replace another mind or soul; that came too close to murder for his taste. This was a complication that he simply hadn't planned for before coming back in time.

"Look," he started, but his younger Slytherin self seemed to have run out of patience.

"Alright, off you go mister... whoever you are." The boy said, waving his hand at his direction.

A bright blue shield materialised out of thin air suddenly, and started closing in on him. This brand of magic was unlike anything he'd ever faced and it left him on the backfoot as he tried to come up with some ways to counter the attack or protect himself.

But without a wand, his options were quite limited. His thoughts raced a mile a minute, before he realised his answer lay right in front of him.

So he finally just tried to Will a wand in his hands.

Thankfully it worked, and his beloved Holly wand materialised in his grasp.

The blue wall of energy was right in front of him when he finally cast a silent shield charm. But shockingly, the wall of energy completely bypassed his shield and collided straight with him.

Harry flinched back, preparing to be pushed out. Instead, the wall passed through him like smoke as well, doing absolutely nothing save for giving a small tingling sensation in his stomach.

"What." Slytherin Harry scowled in confusion.

Older Harry turned to him with a frown. "I have no idea what the fuck just happened but...let's start this fight properly shall we?"

He swished forth his wand, launching a quick silent stunner before preparing a chain of rapid spells.

But it wasn't needed.

Because It soon became clear that his Slytherin counterpart wasn't a good dueler. Instead of blocking or dodging, the boy threw himself to the ground with a startled yell, managing to avoid the spell but completely leaving himself at the mercy of his next attack.

Harry frowned, wondering if this was some new tactic of dueling in this world, before cautiously launching another stunner.

He wasn't surprised when his opponent simply turned into smoke when the spell hit him. No way would an opponent who can launch that kind of shield wall would be so easily defeated by a couple of stunners. He got ready for the next round, looking around at the white nothingness to search for his hidden enemy.

It soon became clear though that there will be no 2nd round. The white nothingness slowly but surely started to melt off into a different structure as other colours mixed in, and Harry soon found himself standing alone in the middle of Hogwart's library.

He wondered if this was some kind of trick from his Slytherin counterpart, before letting the matter drop for something more interesting.

This Hogwarts library wasn't real. He could see that it wasn't completely solid, what with the shelves flickering like hazy smoke, and the books looking translucent.

He approached one of the transfiguration shelves, glancing over the familiar titles.

'Intermediate Guide to Transfiguration.' One of the titles read, and Harry extended his hand to pick it up. He wasn't surprised when his hand passed through the book without making any contact.

But he very much was surprised when the scene began to change again.

And he found himself falling into darkness as suddenly a hole formed directly underneath his feets. Then he kept falling...falling...and falling...

Harry Potter was stuck in a dream.

He dreamt about a life he never had. Dreamt about a life where he never had to sleep in a cupboard, a life where he never felt the absence of parents. A life free or dangers and threats, full of happiness and joy. Well... atleast until he joined Hogwarts.

In this world, the Dursleys were good parents to him. They didn't like magic here either, but atleast they never held it against young Harry. He was treated well; had his own room since he was 5, was encouraged to eat as much as Dudley (An impossible task that the boy tried nonetheless), went to the same school as his cousin, and got the life suitable for any child.

This harry potter did not cry for his parents at night. This Harry Potter never knew suffering. This Harry Potter lived a normal life in a normal family. This Harry Potter...Lived the life that the older one had always dreamt about.

Then the boy joined Hogwarts, found that his real parents were alive and well, and then the bitterness was born. The boy met his siblings; a twin brother and two sisters, and the bitterness grew. When he was sorted in Slytherin unlike his twin, when his twin gloated about the invisibility cloak that he'd recieved, when his parents gave their empty platitudes...the bitterness grew.

This Harry Potter resented his parents, rejected their offer to live together, even rejected his siblings. He distanced himself from his biological family, and accepted what he felt was his real family; the Slytherins.

And the older Harry Potter experienced all of this. Every single thing his younger counterpart went through; the pain and jealousy, the bitterness and resentment...he experienced it all like a very detailed lucid dream.

This Harry Potter was a genius, quite like Hermoine. He placed in the top 3 spots in academics, always submitted his homework on time, had a very elegant handwriting, practiced advanced occlumency, was a natural legilimence, and strived to be the most perfect student overall. By the time his 3rd year in Hogwarts ended, the young boy was already skimming through his O.W.Ls syllabus.

But while there were many things his younger counterpart was better at, there were just as many things that he absolutely sucked at. The older Harry was shocked to see that his younger counterpart was a shit tier quidditch player, as opposed to his Gryffindorish twin. The boy seemed barely able to keep himself on a broom for more than a few minutes, while his twin brother Jacob inherited the raw talent of their father.

The younger boy was also a nonce in Dueling, barely making it to top 10 of the annual dueling list in his class, even though he had advanced spell knowledge that only Hermoine could hope to rival. 3 times he had faced his twin in the Hogwarts annual dueling league, and all the three times he had lost. Hell, he'd even lost to his biggest academic rival; Hermoine, who herself wasn't that good a duelist.

And wasn't that a surprise; to see his lover becoming a bitter rival with his Slytherin counterpart. Something that he will have to quickly get used to. Or change completely.

Apart from lacking in quidditch and dueling, this Harry Potter was also a very silent boy...or perhaps awkward would be a better word. There wasn't much that could amuse the older Harry anymore, but watching his younger counterpart stumble around his words to hold a meaningful conversation with his female friend Daphne Greengrass was absolutely hilarious...and a little painful.

Harry would've thought that being raised in a normal environment would make the boy more confident, but it seems he was wrong. Because he doubted even he was this...nervous around people.

Socially awkward, he remembered the term. His younger counterpart liked the company of books rather than people, and so he kept to his own most of the times. Which was disastrous in Slytherin, a house that worked solely on connections and cunning.

Something that the boy was severely lacking in. How on Merlin's seven shades did he even make it into Slytherin was a mystery. The talking hat just gave him the same 'Slytherin will help you achieve greatness' speech and the boy leapt to accept.

Harry didn't know how long he spend in the boy's mind; experience everything in his life. There were many surprising facts that were soon revealed to him, and some really shocking twists that he wasn't ready for. One thing was certain, he was definitely not in his own world.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the memories finally melted back into the white nothingness again.

"So?" A familiar voice called out. "How did your trip down the memory lane go?"

His younger counterpart was waiting for him once again, a bittersweet expression on his face.

Harry didn't ask how the boy knew what he went through. This was his mind afterall. But he definitely was surprised to see him again, talking to Harry as if they didn't attack each other just moments prior.

Still, he wouldn't hold it against the boy. Harry was the imposter here afterall.

"Very smooth, actually." He finally answered. "You had a good life."

"Compared to you? Yes, I did." The boy admitted, before waving casually. "Indeed, just saw your life as well. I'm quite ashamed right now. Nothing hits home then realising what a whiny brat you are. I truly thought I had it tough, you know? Always felt I was right to be angry at my parents for abandoning me. Always felt justified whenever I shot down their apologies, when I felt disgusted by their begging and crying. But watching you lose everyone in your life was... painful. I hope to never experience it again. Death gives you a different perspective of life, doesn't it?"

Harry was surprised to note how open and well-spoken the boy was being. Compared to the awkward and shy kid that he'd just saw, this one seemed like a different person altogether.

Still, as silence dominated the whiteness, Harry could feel an undercurrent of tension.

"So?" He asked, anticipating another faceoff. "What's next? A fight for supremacy? May the best Harry Potter win?"

"Oh no, I cannot be bothered with that." The younger boy rapidly shook his head. "I saw what you went through. I wouldn't stand a chance, even though your spell choices are...basic at best. Really, how can my older self be so pants at magic is outside my comprehension. What, did all your talent go into that useless sport?"

Harry snorted. "Useless? You are saying one of the most highest paying profession is useless?"

"Well...it actually was useless for you though. Couldn't fly around Voldemort now can you?"

"Maybe I can this time." Harry shrugged. "Who knows. But now would you tell me what exactly should we do next?"

It felt weird, to ask the boy for guidance. But Harry had to accept that his counterpart was much more knowledge about things like this.

The boy sighed, suddenly looking way older than his age suggested. "Very well. Come here and touch me."

"That's some dodgy words right there, mate." Harry muttered, a flicker of smile twisting on his face.

If felt good to be able to joke like this again. Most of his fun in life was taken out when Hermoine died.

"Oh do get your mind out of the gutter, please." The boy scoffed. "I..uhh...I'm not very good with words. You should know that."

"Yeah, I saw that painful scene. Now, let's get this over with."

There was hesitance in their movements as they approached each other slowly. Doubts assulted Harry, wondering if his Slytherin self might betray him.

But it didn't matter in the end. Compared to the boy, he was completely clueless when it became to occlumency. If the boy wanted to betray him, there wasn't much he could really do. He was stuck in a situation that he had never planned for, and he was going in blindly. He must trust the boy if he wished to survive.

Plus he felt a strange... kinship to his younger self. After just having witnessed the boy's life in hyper-speed, Harry could confidently claim that he knew him the best. And he had no doubt that the boy felt the same about him in return.

"So, um... ready?" The boy asked uncertainly, and Harry nodded.

Then they both extended their arms, and Harry could feel a definite tension now. Like the same side of magnets were being forced against each other. They struggled for a bit, pushing against an invisible force with sheer Will...and then it happened. As if the magnets were suddenly twisted to opposite sides, their hands snapped together like one piece.

"What in Merlin's–!?"

"Hold on!"

Their hands started combining. First the body parts became smoky, then the smoke mixed with each other, before finally sucking the rest of their bodies in.

"Hold on! This is the only way!" His younger counterparts screams reached him, though he couldn't decide from where. His voice came from far far away, but Harry felt it in his soul.

And then suddenly, a pain unlike any cruciatus he'd ever felt started assaulting him out of nowhere. He felt like his skin was melting, that his bones were being ripped apart to be reconstructed, like his entire existence was changing at a focal point...

Just as quickly as it all began, it was finished too.

Everything sort of clicked in place, and the memories of his younger counterpart that he'd just seen in a lucid dream were now his own reality. He lived every single moment clearly, experienced it personally, combining both of their lives completely.

And when the pain-filled haze left him in the arms of sweet relief, Harry Potter found himself back in the body of Slytherin Harry.

Slytherin Harry...it felt weird to give yourself such a title. As far as he knew now, he was the Slytherin Harry, and he was the older Harry. Or perhaps he was neither of them, but a combination of the two.

Whatever the case, he didn't have a lot of time to ponder. Because the next moment found his world darkening as he finally let go of his tired and exhausted body. Something wet was trickling down his chin but he was just too tired to care right now.

He didn't know what the future had in store for him, but surely a little nap wouldn't hurt anyone.

Summer did nothing to oppose the chilly air of little Hangleton, Peter observed ruefully. His skin was drier than he would like, and his animalistic side did not like the climate. Not one bit.

It wasn't surprising of course. Rats always like the comfort and safety of warmth. Something this accursed village was won't to provide.

Let alone the room he was currently standing in.

"Come, Peter. My...mossst faithful." The dark lord hissed from the his armchair in front of a live brazier which did nothing to reduce the cold.

Peter was surprised. No Crusios? No complaining about his mortal body? No subtle insults?

It seems his lord was in a good mood today. A relief, considering the news that he'd bought to share.

Without any ado, Peter Pettigrew approached the dark lord, making sure to keep the noise of his boots to the lightest.

The dark lord did not like to be startled. And it was in one's best interest to not do anything the dark lord does not like.

He came to a stop beside the armchair, slowly getting down on one knee. "My Lord."

"You bring news, I trust?" The Lord drolled, his dry hisses sending chills down his back.

"Indeed, my lord." Peter replied with a confidence he didn't feel. "None good, I fear. Caesar Nott has rejected your summons, claiming the letter to be a trap. Malfoy hasn't even answered, his wife writing in his stead; which was...ahh, a rejection. A very harsh rejection. The only house from the inner circle to extend a helping hand are the Selwyns. But they ask for proof of your survival."

Finished with his report, he took a deep breath and got ready for the Crucio that was sure to come.

Instead, the lord threw back his head and laughed aloud. It seems the dark lord was indeed in a very good mood.

Peter's skin crawled as the high-pitched sound of a baby laughing echoed across the room. It was cold and sharp, making his skin crawl in a way no sound ever should. The cursed laugh finally came to an end as the armchair turned to face him.

"And they shall have their proof. They all will. Very soon." Lord Voldemort hissed in merriment, and Peter finally dared to look up.

There, sitting on the red chair, was a 1 year old child, smiling in a way that should be impossible for a child. Red demonic eyes stared down at the kneeling Peter, pure power radiating in them. And along with power was a twisted sense of amusement that saw the entire world as his oyster, and it's inhabitants; bugs.

"Tell me Wormtail, my little rat. How would you like to be reunited with an old friend?"

Uncertain, Peter frowned up at his master. "My Lord?"

The lord smirked down, nothing childish about his fearsome twisted face.

"It is time, Peter, to rescue my Lieutenant."

Oh. Oh. Now he understood.

"I will be most pleased, My lord." Peter bowed deeply, a smile lighting his face up.

Finally. After 6 years of selfless sacrifices, Peter's job was close to finish. It had been difficult, finding a pure blood woman willing to give birth to their lord's vessel. And then doing that painful ritual to let their lord inhibit that baby without any trouble.

But it was all worth it. As long as Lord Voldemort regained his former grandeur, it will all be worth it.

And a chance to catch up with his best friend? Peter's Christmas has just come early.

Now all he had to do was wait. And follow his lord's instructions.

AN: A new story! ...Or is it? If you've been following my other story, Mortal God of Olympus, you'd know that I had some... trouble with a lack of motivation.

Well, in that time my muse hit me and I was off on a mad writing spree. Like, legit wrote 20-25k in 3-4 days. All for this story.

I'll be posting that later today maybe, though I don't know If I'll continue this fic after posting those chapters. Atleast not yet, cause I've already got 2 stories running. So I'll probably post everything I've written for this story today, and work on my other 2 stories.

Once Mystique Soldier hits 50k and Mortal God hits 100k, I'll come back to this depending on the response it recieves.

Let me know if I should continue this or not!