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. No relationship until Harry is a little older and Voldemort has a body. As for the other pairings...a working process.

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 Two: Crossroads

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as fair as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth;...Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

"The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost

What now?

For the umpteenth time Harry heard this question circulate within his head. Unable to focus on the words from his novel, he shuts the book with a loud thud. Running his hands over his face, he turns to the clock and notices another hour has passed and he still did not have solution for his ambiguous question. Where is Ron when he needed him? Or Hermione with her extensive knowledge and helpful advice? Hell, Tom would be wonderful right now, but reality seems to remind him of the impossible. His friendships with them no longer exist. He will not meet Hermione and Ron until three years and Tom for another six.

He moans loudly, feeling the need to cry return. This sound pulls Petunia from her slumber, setting panic eyes on his frame. "Harry, are you alright? Do you need me to call the doctor?"

Forgetting his aunt's presence in his room, he glances at the woman with an apologetic look. "No, I'm fine."

She nods, and gaze at the clock above her head. Frowning at the time, she groans, plopping her head back onto her pillow. "It's far too early to be up." She mutters into the pillowcase, missing Harry shoulders shrug.

"I'm used to waking up at this time." He replies, staring down at the closed book on his lap. "When you have trouble sleeping, it's best to just stay awake." He did not have to elaborate on his meaning for his aunt to understand.

Sympathy flickers his way as she sighs. They have something in common, she thought sadly, but she knew he did not want to think about their similarities. Instead, she redirects her statement on his mother, a person that brought them closer. "Lily used to suffer with night terrors as a child. Every night she would wake up screaming and run into my room. She would clench to me tightly as she cried about the horrors of her dreams."

Slightly surprise to hear her speak about his mother, he shift his focus solely on her. "What did you do to help her overcome her fears?"

Petunia smiles sadly. "At that time...nothing. I grew to hate her, especially after she discovered her magic. During those nights, I would push her away, call her vile names, and relish in the fact that I'd caused her further pain." Tears pricks her vision, but she did not unleash them. She continues, gazing into the eyes that reminds her so much of her beloved sister. "Despite my cruelty, Lily continued to come to me and spoke of her fears. Every time, she would tell me how much she loves me and thankful to have a sister like me. Yet...yet I…" Her shoulders shook as she covers her face with her hands, muffling the sobs.

Harry watches the emotional display in silence, becoming uncomfortable.

What now? The little voice in his head reminds him of his current dilemma.

Still he did not know, and this indecision frightens him the most.

Occlumency shield in place, Harry allows the familiar sensation of slipping into his thoughts. It did not take him long for his world to be covered in darkness. The intimacy of it all brought a sense of comfort to his trouble mind. With a deep breath, he concentrates on dispelling the dark world for another place of familiarity. The walls around him shift, blackness flowing down like ink. Soon his dark world grew bright before settling into a low dim glow. The smell of burning wood tickles his nose as the overbearing warmth dances along his flesh.

In front of him, his world soon became a place of seclusion. Two hunter green wingback chairs rest in front of the healthy glow from the fireplace. Behind them, rows upon rows of cherry oak shelves surround the massive space. Books and other treasures rest on their oak limbs, all filled with memories of his past and now his present. Like always, Harry saunters down the long path between shelves, admiring the scenery. His fingers would dance along the spines, reading the titles and reacquainting himself with the stories within.

However, his steps slow when he comes upon a row of shelves cloak in foreign gloom. He stares at the obscenity and moves to touch it. A hand caught his wrist and spins him around harshly. Crimson clashes with green and with a sharp breath Harry stares at the man he thought he lost forever. Not used to seeing another presence in his shield, he almost missed the words that the other spoken.

"Don't touch it!" The man hiss angrily, and pulls him back down the dimly lit corridor path. Harry does not say anything until they are safely out of the labyrinth and into his small sitting area. Pushed into one of the vacant seats, Harry watches the manifestation of Tom Riddle pace in front of the makeshift fireplace. Crimson eyes narrows in on him, heatedly and he cringes. Even in his mindscape, the man made him feel as if he is a child.

"If I can't touch it, why is it there?"

"I can't explain." replies mindscape Tom.

"You can't or you won't?" Harry counters.

Tom pauses mid step and turns to his young companion. "I won't explain it to you."

"I see. Well I guess since you refuse to do as I ask, I will just go examine the problem myself." He made his way to stand, but Tom moves to stop him. Pushed again, Harry stares up at the man, huffing angrily. "Damn Thomas, this is my mindscape! You are not even real! I can vanish you if I wish." Just to prove a point, he tries to remove him from his presence. Nothing happens, and he is flashed with smugness from the still solid figure. "Damn it, why can't I send you away!"

"Maybe genius, I'm not part of your mindscape. Seriously...what did my other self see in you, I would never know." Tom mutters, ignoring the glare thrown in his direction. "I lived in your head for eighteen years, and you still present me with the same stupidity you had in the past. Again, what does he see in you."

Harry opens his mouth to retort, but snaps shut after he heard the words "other" and "self". Connecting them, he curses low at the realization of his discovery. "You're a horcrux, aren't you?"

Tom pursed his lips, humming softly as he thought of a proper answer. "I was a horcrux...at least part of the original one that used to reside here."

Confusion appears on Harry face. "How are you part of a horcrux?"

"The soul that once lived inside of you broke me off in desperation."

"Desperation? What the hell are you talking about?"

A contemplative silence took over the room as soul fragment Tom ponders on how to explain what he himself did not understand. "In your original timeline, something started to happen with your memories. One by one certain chain of events started to vanish, and replaced with falsified memories. My original noticed this rapid change and found a way to stop it from spreading to the other memories."

"In other words...my original horcrux sacrificed himself?" Harry inquires, not entirely understanding the point. "Why?"

"We have been with you for eighteen years and observed everything you have gone through. There were times when we prevented some incidents from happening, but in the long run we could not allow all you have worked towards vanished. So, we created this room, and drew you into the world. This way, your memories are safe and cannot be tampered with as long as I am here." Tom finished his explanation, and waits patiently for Harry's input.

Harry tries to wrap his mind around the concept of mental manipulation, but all he could think about is the section of black and his conclusion that someone has been meddling with his mind. Glancing at his companion, he asked the one question he felt in his heart to be true. "This shadow...is Dumbledore responsible for it?"

"You know the answer, Harry."

And he did. "What now?"

Tom leans against the mantle on the fireplace, and glance at the rows of bookshelves behind his vessel. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both."

"Eh?" Harry voiced, causing the man to chuckle.

"For someone who is well versed in Shakespeare, I would expect you to know a Robert Frost poem. I believe my other self used to recite this poem when he had a moment of...indecisiveness. I guess I will recite it to you and hopefully you'll figure something out."

Harry listens, transfixed on the words and lost in the imagery the poem illustrates. Sadly, the poem arrived at its end, as Tom voice fades into silence and green eyes slowly opens.

White walls fill his vision as the soft humming of his aunt reached his ears. He glances around, slightly confused about being push out of his mindscape. However, he felt elated to know that the answer he has been searching for finally appeared.

"You look happy." Petunia spoke from beside him, a small smile on her lips as she observed her nephew. "Did you have a good dream?"

Harry only smiles. He wouldn't call his epiphany a good dream, but whatever. He knew what he needed to do.