Warning: Rated T for now, but eventually it will become rated M for sexual content. Expect language, violence, and graphic scenes. Also, this is a slash fiction so if you don't like two guys together, move along.

Pairings: Harrymort for now. I haven't planned much for the others.

Summary: "Do not blame yourself." "I don't. They only have themselves to blame." Harry foregoes his wand and turns away from a destined battle and a glorified life to redo everything from the start. As time fades and becomes a world anew, and he alone will undo all the damage caused by the one person responsible for the devastation...Dumbledore. Time-travel, HP/LV (TR), and other pairings.

Disclaimer: In the Harry Potter universe, I own nothing. All characters, spells, and other canonized information provided within this fan-fiction belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros Inc. This also includes any poetry and lyrics I use as well. All credit goes to the creator. Any thing else, such as plot devices, original characters, and the need to kill, destroy, or sexually fantasize are properties of my imagination, my creativity, and myself. So, you cannot sue.

Not beta'd. I will review the mistakes over time. Bare with me. Dyslexia is a bitch.

Chapter One: Welcome Home

"I years had been from home, and now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before stare vacant into mine and ask my business there. My business, -just a life I left was such still dwelling there?... Who danger and the dead had faced, but never quaked before."

"Life, Poem 53: Returning" by Emily Dickinson

It felt like years in the darkness, but in reality his death happened instantaneously. Harry awakes with a breathy gasp. His body lunges upward and fingers tightens around the loose material of his shirt. His heart palpitations were sporadic, increasing his anxiety levels. He could not keep in the oxygen, shallow breathes rapidly increases as the world around his begins to spin out of control. He needs the light, but darkness surrounds him, thickening within his vision. Tiny fingers starts to claw at the walls. Panicking mewls escape his lips.

Help me, please! He felt the words against his lips, but he could not hear them. His ears did not work. Why did they not work? Fingers curls into fist and he starts hitting the walls. He threw his feet into the motion kicking anything within reach. Screams echoed in the small enclosure causing his ears to ring, but he still could not hear.

Soon, a door opens and light floods in. He shields his eyes from the onslaught, whimpering. Unknown to his eyes two hands appear from the lighted area, larger than his, but feminine. They touch his legs, crawl up to his arms to pry his hands from his face. Harry fought, struggling against the touch, pleading on unheard words to let him go.

However, his pleads went unheard. They held him tight and pull, his body sliding across the dirty floor of his prison. He felt his screams tearing from his throat and the tears streaming down his face. He continues to fight, but hands turns into arms. They held him tight, and fingers found their way into his hair. He felt the release of a shush, and the gentle sway of rocking. Green eyes finally pry open, and from their watery view took in the person who held him.

A young woman with deep set brown eyes peers down at him. Her mouth is moving, comforting words he could make out slowly starts to take affect. Momentarily, she is distracted, another person, an older man enters and relies something to her. He tries to follow along, but some of the words are difficult to make out. From what he could gather, they are speaking about him and his house. The living room specifically, and something that happened in said room. When he tries to see around her, she shifts her body, shielding him from whatever is behind.

He waits, apparent frustration clear on his face from being denied a viewing of his home. When she returns her focus on him, she sends him an apologetic gaze. He decides to accept it, knowing she is only doing her job. Instead, he takes this time to point to his ears. Harry moans in pain or what he hopes replicate the sound. She understood immediately, grasping his face between gentle fingers and tilting his head side to side. She states something to another person behind her, words like "ambulance" and "blanket" were synonymous in his vocabulary. At the mention of blanket, Harry lowers his gaze. His nude body stares back at him and he let's out a distress squeak, which the woman responds with another embrace. Using her to shield himself, it did not take long for someone to bring a blanket and the cool, rough material to drape over him.

His nakedness shield, he is picked up and cradled by another person, the same older man from early. Strong hands held him tight, and the words of "don't look" caused him to do exactly the opposite. Green eyes caught the glimpse of chaos that is his home. Death surrounds the living room and within it bodies of seven individuals. Two of the bodies he recognizes and without warning vomits over himself and on the man. "Ah kid," had been mouthed as the man called for the woman to take him.

Tearful green eyes stares at the woman. She caresses his cheek gently, while she wipes away the residue from his regurgitation. "You poor thing," She says, her tone soft. "It's alright. They cannot hurt you anymore."

Thin brows furrow in confusion as he tries to recall the event that just transpired.

Nothing appears.

Rape

He did not need to hear the word to know what has been spoken. It echoes within his mind hauntingly. It left a horrible taste in his mouth. He never thought he would become one so closely associated with such an act. At least, not in the way the doctor explained to his aunt. Multiple counts during multiple years and the worse part about it, he could not remember any of it. There is nothingness where his memories should lie. It frustrates him, especially if this occurred in his original timeline. However, at the moment, he could not dwell on his tragedy.

Harry turns to his aunt, who have not left his side since his admittance into the hospital. Green eyes, shades lighter than his own stares at the wall ahead. The police officer who brought him continues to explain what transpired at their home. His stomach churns at some of the gruesome details he could follow. Clearly, Vernon and a few of his "close" associates decide to engage in several illegal act, including raping two young boys, and killing the second. Dudley's death surprised him greatly, due to his previous recollection of the pudgy boy. The way he died, Harry felt something. His aunt clearly did not want to continue the conversation.

"Can we talk about this another time?" Harry read her lips, and the officer nods. Together with his doctor they leave the small family alone. Petunia releases a shuddering sob as the tears she held spills from her eyes.

Empathetic to her pain, Harry reaches for her, his small hand grasping hers. Petunia looks between their linked hands to his face. "I know you cannot hear me, but please know that I am sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"I know. I'm sorry too." He thought sadly, watching his aunt mourns for all she has lost.

On the wall, the clock blinks to midnight. Harry stares, red rimmed eyes following the moving hand around the bold white face. In the background, he listens to the soft breathing of his aunt; his hearing returns hours prior. Her sleep at the moment peaceful, while he is forced to remain awake. His mind is restless and his thoughts are troublesome. His memories are becoming hazier each time he tries to conjure one to the surface. The ones that are appearing clearly focus on his times within Hogwarts and his deflection to the dark side. Even thoughts of his life with his relatives were missing some crucial memories. For this, he came up with several possible reasons why his nostalgia is failing.

One, what he currently cannot remember means these incidents has happened in his original timeline. Next, only someone with great power could cast a powerful spell to alter his memory as such. Lastly, the onl people powerful enough to use mind magic is Dumbledore, Tom, and Snape. While he could rule out Tom, he felt the possibility lies with the other two men, the latter hates his existence and the former wants to cause his existence to seize to exist. He sighs loudly, hearing the exhaustion in his tone. He knew thinking about it will not alter what has happened, but something in him needed to know. After all, his purpose for returning is to fix what went wrong, and so far he is failing. How frustrating!

What will happen now? He did not know, but he wished he did.