They say the Force works in mysterious ways. Though you cannot see the bigger picture from an initial glance, or even deep scouring, does not mean it isn't being painted before you. Centuries of actions and reactions led to this moment, the final duel against good and evil. The galaxy is at a tipping point, and it's up to an unlikely hero to decide its fate. (Vader Time-Travel Fic)

Harry Potter had not lived an especially easy life. That wasn't to say it was one filled with hardships - the last couple of years notwithstanding - but Harry knew he had been dealt somewhat of a rotten hand. A half-eaten soul, the memories of a megalomaniac, and his life being turned upside down really should have been par for the course.

Albus Dumbledore, believed to be the last hope of Britain, died in that fateful duel to the evil Grindelwald. His death was merely another nail in the coffin of the war effort. The allies lost, and now it was time for those who were left to try and survive, or escape from underneath the tyrannical boot of the Nazis.

On his third year, Harry Potter died. His soul ripped to shreds by Dementors before being left for dead, nothing more than a battered husk, a shell of its former self. His body would have followed, no longer able to care for itself, had it not been for one other soul he shared his body with; another soul that could piece together what was left and live in his place.

Feeling abandoned and left out to dry by his friends and comrades, Harry had a one-on-one with the piece of Voldemort lodged in his head, finding that the two of them have more in common than different. After some back and forth and a little convincing, Harry and Tom came to an agreement. They would come together and form... Tarry Rotter! ... Actually, I think just Harry Potter.