Chapter 1

Harry was stunned. It was as if his father were standing right in front of him. But that wasn't possible. Not in the least. Voldemort had performed the Avada Kedavra, the killing curse, and he had been the only one to survive that attack.

"Who…who are you?" Harry asked, the question coming out in a whisper.

"Not important at the moment. What is important is who did that to you?" The stranger asked, indicating the bruises in the shape of hands on Harry's neck that had formed after the latest incident concerning the young boy's relatives, if they could even be called that.

"Why do you care? You don't know me." Harry scoffed, recovering some of the bravado he had lost when he had first been slammed into the wall.

"You'll see all in due time, my boy, all in due time. Besides, what if I was one of those people who couldn't stand to see anyone get hurt?" The Harry-copy replied, frowning as he eluded the question. Harry frowned as well, easily picking up on the evasive strategy, but chose to look away from the prodding gaze of the other man. His eyes landed on an indiscernible shape lying in the middle of the alley. It took a moment, but after that moment passed, Harry recognized the shape, which was the reason he was in the alley in the first place. A human body.

"So you can't stand to see anyone hurt but you'll kill an innocent person?" Harry tried to keep his voice light, to avoid showing the man his fear. Yes, he was used to Voldemort and his followers trying to kill him, but they were starting to get predictable with their reliance on magic. However, the man in front of him was an unknown.

The man laughed and glanced back at his victim.

"She'd thank me, a homeless druggie like her. I ended her useless existence and she was finally worth something after she died."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his explanation.

"How can she be worth something after she's dead?" He asked warily. The man shrugged.

"Not really important." He blew off the question with a wave of his hand. "So why aren't you with your relatives?"

Harry stiffened visibly at the question. How did this man know he lived with his relatives, not his parents?

"That's really none of your concern." He said slowly, keeping a careful eye on the stranger. His look-a-like shrugged.

"Actually it kind of is, especially if they've been abusing you." The man replied. "Which it clearly looks like they have been."

Harry grimaced. He hadn't thought the bruises would've been that noticeable already, especially considering it was night.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not going back." The wizarding world's hero said stubbornly, glaring at the stranger, who had started to brush the dust off of his jeans.

"Good." Was the only answer he received. The unfamiliar man began to walk away. In any normal case, Harry would've just let him leave, but for some reason Harry was intrigued. Harry wanted to know why this man looked like an older version of himself when Harry knew he had no living relatives. With a sigh, Harry began to follow the man.

A moment later, the stranger looked back and grinned when he spotted Harry trying to follow him.

"What do you want kid?" He asked nonchalantly.

"You never answered some of my questions and you're unusually relieved that I've left my uncle's house." Harry pointed out. The other male sighed.

"Your mother's relatives are even worse than that girl back there. They've thrived off of seeing you helpless to stop their antics. It's a powerful thing, having control of another person, and they abused that power." He stated.

"I wasn't helpless!" Harry protested. The man sighed and gave him a weary gaze.

"The only thing you could've done is what you're doing now, running away." He murmured quietly. "There are different kinds of strength. You've had to put up with things that most adults haven't, and no one has stepped in to help, even when they had the power to. That's your strength, dealing with things that no one else can. But you were powerless to stop your relatives because there was no one you could turn to."

The words hit close to home for Harry, who winced.

"How do you know all of these things?" He demanded. The Harry-copy said nothing for a moment.

"You really want to know everything?" He asked.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he nodded, sick of having everything kept from him. It would be nice to have some answers for a change.

As if reading his mind, the man sighed and reluctantly began his story, his memories taking him all the way back to the year of 1564.