Summary: End of seventh year, and Potter is leaving for good. The Dark Lord is defeat and loose strings tied-or are they? When Harry finds a old Time-Turner/Porkey tucked into the corner of his dorm and accidently activates it, when and where he ends up are suprising and least. Will our favorite hero make the right choices?

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter.

Socks; changes of robes; 'Transfiguration: Year 7' by Marsha Sathauk; tooth brush; letters from friends; toilet paper, my birthday present from the Dursley's, still thankful it wasn't sent used; spare parchment; Christmas and Easter presants; Weasly sweaters; Dobby socks.

I metally check the items off in my head as I add them to my traveling trunk. I finish by adding that pesky sneakosnope, that one from Ron that won't quit whistling Christmas carols from where Fred and George cursed it. I lay my Dad's Cloak, folded, on top of all that, and shut the lid, latching it firmly.

Then I straighten up, to give my room one last look, but I see nothing I have forgotten. With a sigh, I check my back pocket for my wand, grab my trusty Firebolt, hoist up the handle of the chest, and wheel it out of the room into the hall to the common room, where house elves will carry it down to the train. Even though I no longer will live there, I can't resist returning to the dormitory.

It looks so ... empty. Ah, heck, I am going to miss this room, and all the rest of school as well, my safe haven, even at the worst of times. To not come back next fall ... I can not grasp it.

One step at a time, Harry. To miss this place, you actually need to leave it first, I chide myself.

Ah, wait. I have forgotten Hegwig's cage. I pull it out of the closet, and stare at it wistfully. Empty now, so empty, since my faithful owl died last year. I still miss her loving nip.

I straighten my bed covers once more, and look about just once again, but my eyes are too blurred with tears to see anything clearly. But, no. I can see one thing. Over in one corner, I see a glint of gold, and I walk over to it. Kneeling down, I reach out a tentative hand. In my time here, I have learned at least one thing. Foreign objects often bite.

It is a necklace of somekind, I realize, as I lift it up to better lighting by my thumb and forefinger. Then I take a quick indraw of breath, as it can not be helped. It is Hermione's Time-Turner.

I give a crooked smile. The little thing, so goldenly innocent on its chain, that saved two lives, and more. Brings back wonderful memories. And not so wonderful.

With a sigh, I make to put it in my robe pocket, to give to my friend later, but it slips from grasp and falls to the wooden floor with a metallic clack. I pick it up immeditly, but then wish I hadn't. The little hourglass inside whirls with uncontrolled speed, and I can already feel the affects of time travel. Then, as something yanks my navel, the affect of a porkey as well.

My vision darkens, I turn to the door. Someone stands there, watching, I reach out a hand, though I don't know why. Instead, I try to speak, but before a word leaves my lips I vanish into the past.

My sight returns moments later, and I am left facing a cement wall. I blink a few times, to get what's left of my bearings, and turned around. The room I stand in reminds me of nothing more than a prison cell. Cold, and dirty, it's a cement block practically, with out even a rug on the floor. Sagging bunks line the walls, except for the one with the grimy window. A bare bulb provides all the light. Paint covers the ceiling.

It speaks 'St. Lina's Orphanage: Living Heck' in neon letters. Well, this is an orphanage, obviously. St. Lina's too. But why am I here?

Lying at my feet is a doll, badly sewn, with one arm ripped off and an eye missing. I nudge it with a foot before picking it up. Something about the doll makes me twinge inside. I drop it immeditly. Suddenly, a clatter and loud crash sounds from behind the door, and quite a distance away. Shouts fill the building, and begin to get louder, as I realize they come closer.

"-Scum! How dare you break our finest china over Matron's head!" Its a woman's voice, booming and shrill with anger.

"I didn't, I swear, I didn't!" A petrified scream comes from outside the door, threaded with pained sobs. Before I can react, the door is slammed open and a bundle of rags hurled through, crying loudly, before the door slams shut, lock clicking audibly into place. I have my wand out now, pointing it at the child which braces itself against the frail wood of the door, head down, breathing heavily. The door rattles as someone tries the knob.

"You little brat! You'll recieve a double beating for this! Making the Matron, in her unstable state, believe that plates can fly by themselves, you'll pay young Riddle!" Heavy footfalls storm away.

The child boy, no more than four or five years old gasps as he trys to control his tears. His clothes are torn and stained, and he wears no shoes. His hair is black and unwashed, and rather long. He rubs a dirty fist across his cheeks, to wipe away unwanted tears, and looks up. He freezes as he sees me. His eyes are a dark amethyst, and round, staring out of a unclean, pale face. He looks underfed and strange.

I myself must look strange with my school robes, and wand, which I know lowered from the terrified boy's face.

"W-who're you?" He stumbles over his words, like a dog beaten too much.

"Harry. Harry Potter." I fight an urge to flash my scar, knowing that know, in this time it will mean nothing to him. For this boy is my nemesis, Tom Marvalo Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort, and he is just begining to show his wizard skills by levitating plates, on accident.

But as I look at this child, trembling with fear and sadness, I see not a dark wizard, or even a muggle orphan. I see myself, a young boy in a family of wizard despising muggles, hiding in a cramped cubboard under the stairs while Vernon screams at me through the grate about something magical I have done. Not on purpose, but I am hated for it just the same.

I know what I should do. This one life in front of me, if taken, could save more than one life. My parents, who died to protect their baby; Dumbledore and Snape, who bought me time last year to defeat Voldemort; Neville, who went down protecting Hermione and his brain addled parents from the wrath of Bellatrix Lastrange; Sirius, the world's best godfather; Moaning Myrtle, a ghost killed by Riddle's Basilisk; Hegwig, my loyal, loving owl; Percy; who died with his minister and father by the Malfoys' wands; all the poor people of the order, like Tonks, who will never see again; or Moody who went down by a backstabber, and all the other poor people of the Order and ministry, and even those poor muggles who were killed, all those who could of lived a day longer if this one boy had never exsisted.

I mastered the killing curse last year; it had saved my neck from the Dark Lord and his followers. Now, I raise my wand again. "Avadra" I start strong, but in the end, my cry fails, as I see the boy's lip tremble.

No. "Avadra" I begin again, and fail again. Tears well up in my eyes. The boy, who was me and not me, has never had friends or family, has been bullied by those who were bigger.

"Avadra..." My heart is no longer in it. The green light at the tip of my wand dies completely. I can not do it; I stuff my wand away. And lift the Time-Turner, still clutched in my hand.

As I spin it back to my time, and activate the porkey spell with in, I renew my vow I made last year, over Voldemort's finally lifeless body.

I swore that I would never become the monster Riddle had grown to be. Never force the weaker to serve, the innocent to die, evil to rule my heart and thoughts. I would never be alone, as Riddle was, then, made himself be. I had my friends, the Order, my school. And when lonelyness fought against friendship- we won.

The hourglass whirls now, and I fade from this time, and am moved forward and away. The walls of Hogwarts reassert themselves around me and I turn toward the door. Then, without looking back, I walk out, and down to the common room, where I am greeted by friends. I am no longer sad to be leaving. Hogwarts has taught me all it can.

"Harry," Hermione is asking me. "What took you so long? Ron and I were finished and hour ago." I shrug in reply. Ron doesn't look at me, but examines the ring on his ring finger. He does that alot lately. There is an identical one on Hermione's finger.

They've been engaged since the middle of this year. I guess my best friend din't ask earlier, because Hermione was still distraught over Neville, who told her he loved her, just before the killing spell that the dying Bellatrix had casted was completed. But Hermione loves Ron now, and him her. I'm happy for him

"Let's go," I say. We leave the Gryffindore commom room once and for all. We wave goodbye to the Fat Lady as we do so, and she is crying, waving a stained white handkerchief at us.

The Great Hall is crowed with seventh years, as the rest of the school left yesterday. Professor McGonagle(sp) says some halting, teary goodbyes to use, and we travel down to the train station in thestral carriges.
I lost alot, in my last few years, but I've gained something else, something in expendable. I passed my auror test this year, and been offered a job in the US, where supposedly, there's a dark wizard begining to cause trouble. I'll probably accept, just to have something to do, and to get away from all the National Hero junk in the Daily Prophet.

Luna Lovegood will be coming also, as she works as a new reporter for the ministry, and wants to do stories on my work. She had a lot of competition for the job.

But even after all this ends, I still have one thing. The choices we make affect ourselves only, and are ours alone, in the end. If you make the wrong ones, you lose something, but if you follow your heart and do right, you just might win.

(Gravestone)

Harry Potter
Born July 1, 1989(guess)
Died April 23, 2006
'I won'

Harry Potter, Britain's Hero, died yesterday, of a freak accident when his wand, in his back jean pocket ignited. His ashes are all that were left when Ministry officials found him.
Luna Lovegood, reporter.