Summary: Harry's lost EVERYTHING. Given one chance to make things right again, he gives up his past and present in the hope of a better future. Time travel fic.

Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming! Don't own it. Nope. Nada. Makes me sad but oh well.

November, 1933

The boy stared out the window listlessly. The grimy glass revealed nothing more spectacular than an overgrown yard with a few broken toys and a single stunted tree. The orphanage matron was calling everyone to supper downstairs, but the child just glanced at the door and turned back to the cheerless view. He sighed, his breath fogging the cold window pane. It's not like anyone really wanted him down there anyways. In fact, they'd probably rejoice if he starved himself to death. Not that it would take long, he thought looking down at his malnourished, gaunt body. His oversized clothes just made him look even smaller. He sighed and debated falling into his old, well-worn daydreams. Some long lost relative would come and take him away, care for him, and maybe even come to love him. The child snorted quietly. If anyone gave a damn about Tom Riddle sitting cold and bruised in a run down orphanage, surely they would have come by now. He curled up, his head resting lightly against the window and shut his eyes. Someday he'd get out of here, with or without anyone's help. With that thought in mind, the little boy passed gently into sleep.

November, 1998

It had been seven months since Harry had taken down Voldemort. The cost had been terrible. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Snape, Bill, and Neville. All gone. Harry shut his eyes and brought the bottle to his lips. The burn from the firewhisky felt right, almost like a penance of sorts, then the burn dulled into a warm feeling of comfort. In the months since The Battle, Harry had found sleeping next to impossible and being awake nearly unbearable. Drinking solved both those problems. It dulled the pain of being conscious and gave him dreamless oblivion when he finally passed out for the day. He had become a regular at the Hog's Head, having grown sick of the pitying looks and gentle scolding from Rosmerta about his drinking habits. Aberforth merely nodded to him and got him his regular fix without comment.

Harry stared down at the bottle in his hand, his green eyes reflecting in the surface, warped green smudges glaring back at him. For an instant his mother came to mind, the way she had smiled at him when the resurrection stone summoned her and the others. Green eyes so like his. "Harry..." Harry blinked. He could've sworn he had just heard her voice. For a second a heavy sense of guilt and shame flooded him, sitting there drinking his life away. He choked back the sudden burning in his throat. Suddenly he had the urge to leave, to be anywhere but the dim, smoky tavern. He hurriedly pushed back his chair and stood, dropping a few galleons on the table. Nodding a quick goodbye to Abe, he walked out into the chilly evening.

Hogwarts wasn't really a far walk, but it felt to Harry like it had only taken seconds. The surreal journey barely registered as he placed his palms on the newly repaired doors. As he touched them, the castle seemed to sigh, cloaking him in a sudden warmth. He felt welcomed, like he had finally come home again. He almost smiled until he looked down and remembered Neville's mangled body bleeding out in the exact same spot. He closed his eyes. Hogwarts seemed to feel his pain and the gentle magic that had welcomed him drew around him once more and the doors quietly swung open. It's alright, the castle seemed to whisper. Harry nodded in silent reply and stepped forward into the dim interior.

Harry didn't look as he passed the great hall, ignored the charms corridor, and suppressed a flinch as he passed the library. He shied away from the staircase that would take him to the entrance of Gryffindor tower and inevitably found himself in front of the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. Without him saying a word the gargoyle moved to the side and Harry hesitated a moment before starting up the twisting stairs. Briefly he wondered if McGonagall would come out and ask him to leave. Shaking off the thought he continued until he came to the office door. Resting his hand lightly on the handle, he gathered his courage and entered. The office had changed. No longer were there numerous trinkets lining the shelves, books and papers stacked haphazardly on the desk, and no brightly colored phoenix perched near the windows. He hadn't had much time to look around the last time he had been here during the battle. Snape's stint as headmaster had obviously cleared the room, and McGonagall had kept the sparse look. Suddenly feeling watched, Harry turned to the portraits to find two sets of eyes on him. A pair of glittering ebony eyes looked down from a sneering face and a pair of twinkling blue eyes took in his blank expression. Harry nodded at the two. "Professor, Headmaster, it's nice to see you again."

The portrait of Severus Snape snorted, the sneer becoming more pronounced. Dumbledore simply smiled. "Hello Harry. You've changed quite a bit since last I saw you." Harry moved closer. "I guess I have." He ignored the look on the former Potions Master's face and ran a hand through his hair. "So what brings you to Hogwarts my boy?" The blue eyes looked a little too knowing as they peered down at him. Harry shrugged. "I don't know sir, I just kinda found myself here." Dumbledore nodded as Snape let out another derisive snort "Potter, eloquent as ever I see." The portrait raised an eyebrow as if waiting for Harry to argue. Dumbledore chuckled, "now now Severus. It seems to me like Harry could use a bit of help." Snape frowned, looking for an instant like a child whose favorite toy had been snatched away. Harry bit his lip and choked back the hysterical giggle that had threatened at the thought. "What kind of help do I need, sir?" He found himself asking. If possible Dumbledore's gaze twinkled even brighter, "Why what you need is time my dear boy." Harry frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry sir, I don't quite understand." He thought for an instant perhaps the Headmaster meant something along the lines of "time heals everything," but looking at the smiling portrait he got the feeling there was more to it than that. After all when had anything been simple with Albus Dumbledore? "Second shelf down on the far wall," the portrait directed. Puzzled Harry went to the empty shelf. "Sir? There's nothing here." He ran a hand lightly over the aged wood. A small clicking sound and a moment later, the wall moved forward almost knocking the brunette over. Curious, Harry peered into the dark opening. It was narrow, but more than enough for him to fit through. "What's in here sir?" He asked a shiver running over his skin. "That my boy, is where you'll find all your answers. Tell me Harry, what would you do to be able to save your friends and loved ones?" Harry didn't hesitate. "Anything," he said, his voice slightly rough. "I'd do anything sir." Dumbledore smiled. "Good luck Harry."

It was dark and cold in the tunnel behind the bookshelf. Harry found himself wishing he had brought a thicker cloak. The damp, musty smell gave him the feeling that no one had been back here in a while. The white light from his wand played along the passage making the walls distort and seem to shift. Finally he came to a small room about as big as his room on Privet Drive. It was bare save for a single mirror leaning against one wall. Harry slowly walked up to it, taking in his ragged appearance. The baggy clothes, the shaggy hair, the deep black circles under his eyes. For a second his lips twisted in amusement. Wow, no wonder Dumbledore thought I needed help. He shook his head and let his eyes travel over the mirror. How is this supposed to help me? Elegant, curling script at the top of the mirror's frame caught his attention. It was in parseltongue, but to Harry it was as clear as English. "The Mirror of Fate, huh?" Harry murmured, touching the cool glass. Instead of a solid surface however, his fingers seemed to sink right through the mirror. Startled, Harry tried to pull his hand back, but an insistent tugging pulled him closer and closer. "What the hell!" He struggled harder, but whatever was pulling him wasn't letting go. A wave of fear crashed through him, but was instantly cooled by a deep kind of calm. Harry took a deep breath and stopped fighting. Maybe he'd get to see Hermione and Ron...

A/N: I haven't written anything in a while, so this is me getting back in the swing of things. Let me know what you think J