The right path

One

Twelve year old Harry Potter was waiting in his room in Privet Drive, sitting crossed legged in his bed. Tomorrow would be his birthday, and he was looking forward to the delicious cake Ms. Weasley would probably send. He tried to ignore the fact that he was really hungry because, well, what good would it be if he acknowledged the fact? He would probably start to daydream about food, or the great feast that Hogwarts had always ready for them when they arrived.

He was exploring that line of thought when a small 'pssst' distracted him. What was that? Could it be that someone came to save him from his living arrangements for the summer? He really hoped so, but when he looked around, nobody else was there. Did he imagine that sound? It could be... No, there it was again, the sound became a little bit louder this time.

Wait...it came from inside his head. He closed his eyes and thought a "Hello?"

At first there was no response, and as he was about to open his eyes again and continue his daydreaming, he heard it.

"Hello Harry"

"Who are you? How are you in my mind?"

Harry was panicking. Could Voldemort be manipulating his mind now? He had very little contact with the diary, and he destroyed it for Merlin's sake! How was that possible?!

"Calm down Harry, you are making me dizzy. I'm not Voldemort. I, in fact, despised the man...if you could call him a man... Anyway, I am you. I am Harry James Potter, and I have just died"

Those words sent shivers down his spine. Could it be? He needed solid proof, but there was a chance that the voice, being inside his head could search his memories, thus eliminating the possibility of any solid proof.

"Yes, I get that you are hesitant to believe me. After all, I knew how you would take it. But here it is, not a memory, but a thought that I remember from my first day of school. I remember that I thought I wouldn't fit in any house, that after sitting in that stool for a long time they would tell me there was a mistake, and send me back to Privet Drive. There. Nobody could know that without you telling them, and I know for a fact you never did, because after all, you were sorted into the house of the brave."

... Could it be? He remembers that.

"Or that time last summer. You were thinking that the friendship you formed with Hermione and Ron was lost, that they learned how boring and useless you really were, and that's why they didn't write. At least that's what you thought before Dobby appeared."

Right, now there is that other thing. He distinctly remembers that. Maybe the voice was telling the truth.

"Okay, let's say I do believe you. What are you here for? How are you here, to start with, if you say you are dead?"

"Right. Long story short, when I was fourteen years old, Voldemort resurrected, with a complete body and all, and when I was seventeen years old there was this big battle in Hogwarts. The final battle if you wish to call it that. I spent a year working to ensure Voldemort's mortality, because, as of now, at this point in your life, he is immortal. There was only the final part to achieve, and that was to kill Voldemort himself. However, there was a catch: I had to die too. And so, I went to the clearing where he was waiting for me to surrender, and, well... I died."

Younger Harry was terrified. He didn't want to die yet, and for the sound of it, five years from now he would be dead. He would never have children, a wife, or even a proper house to call home. That was not a great thought, nor a good happy birthday gift.

"Wait, it doesn't end there." Older Harry replied, even before the other could delve much more into that depressing concept. "There is more to it than meets the eye, I didn't simply die that night. You see, without meaning to I became master of death. I cannot tell you how I did that, as that is something you need to achieve by your own hand if you wish to do it this time around. But that title gave me the opportunity to choose between three different paths. I could return to the exact same point in time when I died, finish off Voldemort, and continue with my life. Another option was to simply pass on, you know, simply die. Or I could choose to take a younger version of me to another point in the past, and prevent the rise of Voldemort. I obviously chose the latter. Now, you may be confused as to why I chose that, but I have my reasons. Are you willing to let me explain some things, without you freaking out?"