Harry opened his eyes, the colours searing his vision and making him shut them once more. Squinting, he caught a glimpse of something red... No orange, with flecks of yellow. The smell of smoke and ash singed his nostrils, the sounds of screams pierced his ears like surgical tools do a cadaver.

Where was he?

Last thing he remembered was being in the dormitory. Tom had just blasted him across the room, and instead of killing him he had sent him back.

Sent him back to a war zone it seemed.

Black clouds of smoke billowed up from the buildings around him. Looking through the haze, it seemed as if he was in a street. People were running, moving away from masked wizards marching up the cobbles in V formation.

Their masks were silver, glinting in the lights of the fire that their wands had started, and from them radiated pure and undiluted power.

Starting in his temples pain began to build, radiating out until it coated his whole skull in a thick layer of agony.

He had seen this before... But where?

A cauldron... Bound to a headstone... Cloaked figures... Voldemort.

Death Eaters.

Looking up he saw a sign from one of the buildings fall to the ground. The word Honeydukes was soon rendered to ash.

And then, with a flash he realised where he was. He was in Hogsmeade, the village just outside Hogwarts. A village that was under siege from an enemy that he should have destroyed...

If they were here then where was Voldemort?

A small boy tripped over the remains of a fruit wagon, his tear-streaked face looking up into the cold ones of his advancing attackers.

No.

Running towards the battle, Harry could feel the smoke searing his lungs with each breath, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the cries of the young boy, too overcome with fear to move.

"Expelliarmus!" he bellowed, a flash of light jetting from his wand. One of the Death Eaters flew back into what used to be Zonko's. He did not get up.

"Crucio," one of the masked figures yelled back, and dodging the red stream of light, Harry found himself next to the boy. He held out a hand and the sniffling child took it, big blue eyes looking at him with gratitude.

"Run, go and find your mother, I'll keep them back," said Harry quickly. The boy nodded, his little legs carrying him quickly down the street.

Turning back towards the mass, Harry shot a stream of spells at them, but it was so hard to see through the flames and ash that he wasn't sure if any hit their mark.

And then, seemingly from nowhere, another figure joined the fray. He was slender, a navy cloak billowing in the wind; the added effect of the smoke made it almost mythical.

In less than five minutes half of the enemies were felled, and the others started to disapparate, the pops created from their magic filling the small, decimated street. And all of this happened without the cloaked figure uttering a word.

However, Harry could feel the magic pulsing in the air. He had used nonverbal spells, but that didn't mean that there was no magical signature. In fact, this signature seemed familiar and, as if reading his mind, the figure turned to face him, eyes that he had technically not seen in over 50 years now gazing his way.

As if flicking a switch the pain overtook him once more, like nails piercing his skull and digging deep into his brain.

In a second he was falling into the dust, and moments later the blackness had overtaken him.

"Albus, do you not see what is happening here?" a frustrated voice sounded from far away.

"Tom, of course I do, but you cannot out them. There is no proof," came a slightly calmer and older voice.

"They will destroy me," hissed who Harry assumed to be 'Tom'.

"No they will not, eventually they will become too arrogant and their arrogance will lead to their defeat."

"But when? If I cannot stop them before the next election then we will have lost before the ballots even open."

"We shall discuss this later, Tom, Harry's awake," said Albus urgently.

It appeared Harry's eyes had chosen to open at this moment. Using his peripheral vision he saw he was lying on a couch of some sort. The office looked vaguely familiar, and the first thing he noticed was an abundance of silver spindly objects littering almost every surface. Looking to the right he saw an old man who he instantly realised was Dumbledore sitting behind a grand, equally cluttered desk, and a younger one with strikingly familiar features pacing the floor in front of it. It soon became clear that he was in the Headmaster's office, although this one wasn't under siege.

Memories of Hogsmeade and the Death Eater attack flooded back to him, as well as memories that he did not recall being there at their creation, and he clutched his head as they came barreling into his consciousness.

Images of a First Year without hint of the Philosophers Stone merged with the one in which he battled Quirrell and had his first taste of the conflict that would soon consume the Wizarding World.

Second Year then popped into his mind. Only this time there was no Basilisk, but instead a year where he helped win Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup. If he thought back hard enough he could still feel himself being hoisted on the shoulders of his team mates, the heavy silver cup grasped tightly in his hands.

Third Year brought with it his parents' friend Remus teaching at Hogwarts. He taught Harry more magic than any Professor before him, and when he received his end of year results he still remembered the proud look on his parents' faces. It was a far cry from the desolate year he had once known, where his Godfather had been thought to be a murderer, and the only memories of his parents had been through a photo album Hagrid had created as well as a flash of lethal green light.

In Fourth Year his main memory was Christmas with his parents. Lily's laughter as James tried and failed to cook the dinner like a Muggle – he had lost a bet to Sirius over who would win the Quidditch World cup. Sirius was there taking photos, the cremated turkey being pulled out of the oven by a crestfallen James, and Harry honestly never thought he had eaten something worse. However, he got flashes of once eating some plant called Gillyweed, and compared to that it was delicious.

Fifth Year came with it a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. She bureaucratised the whole system, turning DADA into mere theory, with nothing practical. Of course Harry rebelled, with Ron and Hermione he set up a club to help his classmates learn how to cast and not just read. Of course he was caught, but Dumbledore let him off quite lightly, only a few weeks of detention. After all, it wasn't like the club was an army or anything.

Sixth Year was rather dull in comparison. All he could remember was classes. However, whilst reality was boring, his imagination was not. In his mind he conjured up battles, imagining fighting these 'Death Eaters' that were creating so much trouble for the Ministry with their random and viscous acts of violence. Although in the back of his mind he could remember different scenes. Not ones of heroism, but of desperation, loss, and regret. Sometimes it felt as if he had lived two lives.

Seventh Year was only half completed. It had been going relatively normally, until he had found himself sitting in Dumbledore's office after an attack on Hogsmeade during a school trip there. Now he was just confused and Voldemort... No, Tom... Was looking at him as if he were a particularly interesting insect.

"Harry, what do you remember?" asked Tom.

And really, what did he remember? He had two lives in his head. One relatively peaceful, his parents alive, and his friends happy. In the other Hogwarts had fallen, his parents and friends were dead, and he had travelled back in time.

Which one was real?

"Harry, it'll take time for you to adopt the new memories. You'll still have the old ones, but with time they will fade," said Dumbledore, looking the same as he did in both sets of memories with his white hair and deep blue robes with yellow stars coating them. At least there was one thing constant in this new world.

"Why do I remember two lives?" asked Harry.

"When I sent you back it created a new timeline, and therefore a new you. When the you from 1943 came to this timeline, he merged with the Harry already there. That is why you have two sets of memories," explained Tom.

"I thought I had failed. I thought you were going to become Voldemort. What stopped you?" asked Harry. He was certain he had failed. Was he dead and this some twisted dream showing him what could have been?

Although he conceded that his imagination wouldn't have been good enough to create this. This Tom looked slightly older than he did in 1943, perhaps by about 10 or so years. His boyish face had matured, the angles sharpened and the eyes seemed wiser. Harry noted that on his index finger was the Gaunt Ring, and suddenly the reason for his youthful appearance even though over fifty years had passed was evident.

"I had a great deal of time to think about what you had shown me, Harry. I wanted power, but from your memories I saw I had become a madman, unable to trust myself, let alone a group of followers. I depended on them for my life, and that was one of the most difficult things to recognise as I have never needed anyone. My sanity, my intelligence, and my power had gone, and that was not going to happen a second time," Tom answered, his voice indifferent, a tone more suited to talking about the weather than how one changed their destiny.

Harry remembered how Tom had looked when he had seen his older self. He wasn't sure at the time if he really had made Tom reconsider his actions, and the relief he felt upon hearing these words almost made him black out again.

"But I can remember Death Eaters in this timeline. What happened to the others?" asked Harry, and he saw both Dumbledore and Tom exchange a look. The meaning he wasn't sure of, but he had a hunch he was about to find out.

"Tom, you're the best one to explain this," said Dumbledore.

"The others were not so fond of my change of heart, if we can call it that. After school they took their fathers positions within the Ministry and have been pushing forth an agenda closer to Voldemort's. Using my talents I rose above them to become Minster for Magic, and until as of late they have not concerned me. However, in an effort to destroy my power they have created a group called 'Death Eaters'. They themselves are not Death Eaters, but they have a group of people disillusioned with the Muggle and Muggleborn friendly policies that are willing to resort to violence to have their views met. It is these people that you encountered in Hogsmeade," Tom's words were clipped, and Harry could hear the anger beneath the words just begging to be released.

"What do they hope to achieve with this?" asked Harry. Being in 1943 and knowing the people Tom was talking about personally made this even harder to imagine.

"I cannot stop them as of yet. Surprisingly the years have made them clever, as well as their close connection with me in our youth making them know more about my power than the average enemy. And whilst I would rather use more of my interesting spells on them, I have an appearance to keep up. That only leaves denouncing them in public, but that route is blocked as well since there is no trace of this faction leading back to them and - whilst retaining my good looks - I would be labelled insane once more-"

"And so by making you appear powerless you lose the public's trust and therefore your power, creating a void that they want to step into," guessed Harry. The others really were smarter than he had given them credit for, but then they had had over half a century to figure this out.

"It appears you've gotten quicker just as they did," remarked Tom.

"And obviously you haven't changed. Being a cold and irritating bastard is so 1943," retorted Harry.

"Boys, can we get back to the matter at hand," came Dumbledore's voice.

"Albus, it has been several decades since you could call me a boy," snapped Tom, his eyes flashing with irritation.

Dumbledore chose to ignore this and instead turned to Harry.

"Harry, you know these men. At least you did. Perhaps you could rekindle your old friendship and find out where they are hiding their base?"

"Friendship?" Harry and Tom sneered at the same time.

"They do not know your allegiance, only that you hated Tom-"

"Actually the lines were rather blurred on that one," interrupted Harry.

"Although after they thought I had killed you – kept secret from the rest of the school of course – their opinion might have changed," said Tom candidly.

"Excuse me? They thought you were capable of killing me?" hissed Harry, his eyes narrowing.

"Well you seemed pretty pathetic in your final moments, blathering on about how you'd see your dead relatives again," shrugged Tom.

"This could actually work in our favour," interjected Dumbledore. "Harry, you could reveal your time-traveller status and how you were meant to kill Tom. Embellish it a little to make it seem as if you're on their side-"

"Albus, Harry is as bad as lying as you would be as a Dark Lord," Tom let some frustration seep into his voice.

"And then what will you do? Stand there and watch the wizards and witches of this world lose faith in you and in desperation embrace a band of blood purists?" Dumbledore finally raised his voice, and Harry felt the urge to shrink back a little. Tom, to his credit, did not look fazed in the slighted.

"I'll do it," said Harry after a moments silence.

"You'll be killed," said Tom not even a second later.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'd rather not see this timeline crumble after I've already gone back in time and had to put up with you for months to make it like this! In this timeline my parents are alive and I don't want to see them suffer because you can't stop your old friends," Harry almost growled.

"Well then don't expect me to show up to your funeral," said Tom frostily.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, acting oblivious to their argument, "Tom will give you a position in the Ministry as soon as term finishes. From there you will initiate contact and we'll go from there. Tom will keep an eye on you, I'm sure he has many ways to do so undetected. Now I know you have already agreed, but you have until the end of term to mull it over fully. I rushed you into time travel, and I won't rush you into this. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, although he was certain his answer wouldn't change over the next few months.

"Now, Harry, if you'll excuse us we have other matters to discuss. I believe that Miss Granger and Mr Weasley are waiting for you outside the Great Hall," said Dumbledore, smiling happily at him – Harry had a feeling he remembered the events in the other timeline slightly better than he had let on.

Harry was at the door when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Once last thing, Harry. I want to thank you, without you this future would not have been possible."

Looking back Harry saw Tom just nodded – that was about as close to a thank you as he was going to get from him.

"It was no trouble, Sir," replied Harry, lying through his teeth.

'When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.'
~ Alexander Graham Bell

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and I apologise that this has taken so long. I have struggled to write this, it seems the closer you get to the end the harder it is to produce something you're happy with! This is the end of this story, in future they may be a sequel detailing Harry's infiltration of the Ministry, but if I do it won't be for some time as I'm finding it hard balancing writing, working and uni work. However, getting back to this story I want to thank all of you for sticking with me. You have no idea how much I appreciate it, and I know I have been less than adequate on the updates so you all deserve a medal!

DISCLAIMER – I do not own Harry Potter.

Anonymous Review Replies:

dianadenisa – Thank you, I'm glad you have enjoyed it so far, and sorry for taking so long!

Yume – Again sorry for taking so long! I'm never going to predict a time I'll have a chapter written in again!

Inarow – Thank you, I'm glad you liked what I did with that chapter, it took a long time to get the direction. And I really wouldn't want to make it slash as I've done that before and this was designed to challenge me, so there is no danger of that happening! :)

Bluebird – I guess this answers your question about what Tom does. I hope you like it!

Escha - Was your feeling right? I'm glad I surprised you with the last one though, and I hope I did with this one.

chantal du lac – I'd rather finish it before I ran out of words to write, sorry for not making it longer, but I might continue in the future when I have more time. I'm glad you don't mind me playing about with the characters a bit, and I hope you like the ending!

Guest – It took ages, but I didn't leave it – that's worth something, right? :)

Guest – If I abandon a story I always put up a notice – I've only done that once, and then started it up a month later. Thank you for following the story. :)