Author's Note: Lord Voldemort remembers when he recieved his Manual, and surrendered his life and purpose. He remembers the years following, all events leading up to this moment. War.

Chapter One

It had been fifty years. Fifty years since that climactic day in the Hogwarts library. Fifty years since Lord Voldemort, then a studious Tom Riddle, had found his destiny in the form of a small book.

Softly caressing Naigini's back, Lord Voldemort recalled that day.

He had been hastily preparing for his exams, for it was toward the end of his 3rd year. He had a reputation to uphold. All professors adored him; he reckoned that he could've used all three Unforgivable Curses, and they would've skirted over it, gushing about his academic achievements. But their view of him might change, he realized, if he didn't study hard and excel in his exams.

As Hogwarts had become his 2nd home, its library turned into his 3rd. He spent his nights there pouring over spell book after spell book; his coffee mug and wand light were his midnight companions. His classmates watched in awe, but not in envy, as Tom lived the pre-exam weeks in a world composed only of his books, his notes and his quill. It grew inevitable that one day the constant stream of facts would become too much for his thirteen year old body. Finally the day arrived where he was sick of it. His head was swimming with the words of the textbooks he had just finished trying to memorize. Usually he enjoyed reading, but after inhaling schoolbooks for hours now, he was ready for a change of pace.

Like that book, by his mug of hot cocoa.

Funny, Tom thought reaching for the book, he didn't remember pulling it off the shelves. But he must have, even if he didn't recognize the title. "A Tale of Two Powers," he read, softly. He furrowed his brow, trying to place why it seemed so familiar and yet... not. His confusion only worsened when the room suddenly went black.

It took him a while to realize that he hadn't been knocked unconscious. He could still see himself, for he seemed to be producing a glow. It was the rest of the room that had been enveloped in darkness. He looked around, but he could make out nothing, not even hazy silhouettes, of the Hogwarts' library. Had he been transported somewhere else? Tom reached out to feel for the table that had been in front of him and only caught air. His stomach jumped a slight when he realized that there was nothing there. Tentatively, he waved his arms around himself... Nothing. What kind of Dark Magic had taken him here, and why?

He stared straight in front of him, willing his eyes to focus in the darkness. Tom could make something out, but not because his eyes were adjusting. The book was slowly illuminating itself. Soon Tom Riddle and that mysterious book A Tale of Two Powers were the only things visible in the extreme darkness.

Then he heard it. A voice he could only describe as being both inside his head and coming from the darkness around him. Neither male, nor female, this voice called out to Tom.

"Hello, Tom Marvalo Riddle."

Tom Riddle would have fallen back in his chair, if there was a chair to fall back on. Tom wondered what it was he seemed to be sitting on, when it just looked, and felt, like empty air to him. Tom stood up, a bit uncomfortable about sitting on nothing. He then tried to set his uneasiness aside, took a deep breath and attempted to understand the situation he'd been put in.

"Who are you? What are you? Where are you?" Tom's voice had started out demanding, but ended panicked. An adversary in the shadows is one to be afraid of; Tom considered anyone unknown to him his enemy. How was Tom supposed to fight this opponent if the battleground was shrouded in shadows?

Tom heard the rustling of papers and his eyes fell to the book. It had opened, and its pages now turned, as if a wind had picked up suddenly. It wasn't long before the book stilled, its pages staring up at Tom.

"Read it, Tom."

Was this an answer to his questions? Was that why the unattached voice wanted him to read it? Tom stepped forward to see the book more clearly.

It was a table of contents. Tom tried to understand how these unfamiliar words could possibly answer any of his questions. He perused the page for a few seconds, annoyed that there didn't seem to be anything important there, or if there was, that he couldn't see it.

"Claudification?" What did this have to do with anything? He still had no answer to why he had been kidnapped to this realm of shadows. Tom stepped back from the book, thinking hard about what he'd gotten himself into. He hadn't felt a spell being shot at him; surely he would've noticed that. It had all happened so quickly, yet he cursed himself for not paying better attention. Now he had no idea where he was, and he wasn't getting the kind of answers he needed from the bodiless being or the book. "I would like to know what's going on," After a second's thought Tom added, "Please." It had worked on his teachers and it seemed to work on this invisible being too.

The pages of the book turned rapidly, pushed by a wind that Tom couldn't feel. The wind died as abruptly as it started, stopping on two pages that were taken up by a rectangle created by thin lines. A picture appeared inside the rectangle, revealing it to be a screen. Tom was so intrigued by this that when the invisible entity began to narrate, he was startled. Though he jumped slightly, his eyes never tore away from the book. This was important, Tom knew, and he wouldn't miss a thing.

"It begins at the beginning of the Universe,"

And all of a sudden there was a big bang. Meteors began flying about coming from a single tear in what had been nothing. Matter and light crowded what had once been empty space. Tom was transfixed. The narrator went on.

"Speed up a few eons and we have the making of your little planet. More specifically the farthest west region of the Eastern hemisphere what you now call 'Europe'."

A globe of what Earth must have looked like in the oldest B.C. appeared. The Earth whirled on its axis until it reached the spot that the Voice spoke of.

"Each one of the Powers chose which area in which they wished to create Life. The One divided up your Earth just has He had done all other planets, so we could mold it as we chose—"

"Wait!" Tom cried. The simulation stopped and the omnipresent being sounded a little bit impatient when it asked, "What is it?"

Tom chose his words carefully so as not to anger the being. "Do you mean to tell me that you created the Universe?"

Now there was definite impatience in Its voice. "Yes, I did. Have I not made it clear? I am a Power, only a Power could have brought you here, to empty space, and still have the power to keep you alive."

Empty space? Tom looked around him and tried to imagine another area that would've had this effect. Not having thought of one he moved onto the next question. "You call yourself a 'Power', but I fail to see exactly what that is,"

There was silence and then a deafening roar. "Do you not know? Are you really that ignorant? A Power, the Powers are the ones who created this pathetic Universe. We have power beyond your feeble comprehension. We live outside your mortal universe. We move beyond the rules of Time, while Time means the eventual end for you. And I was the one who made it so! Do you not know me? I am the Lone Power, the Inventor of Death, the Master of Entropy, and the Creator of what will eventually befall your universe. The End."

The booming loudness of Its voice and the extreme malice emanating from It made Tom decide that his last question had been stupid and had made him look like an idiot. It was obvious that this Power did not waste Its time with ignoramuses, and because Tom did not want to be left in empty space without the life jacket this Power was providing, he would have to try not to ask stupid questions in the future. His next one, however, he couldn't help asking.

"If you are one of these Powers, then what do you need me for? Why waste your time with a mere mortal?"

The voice lost Its volume, but none of its malice. Tom's eardrums didn't cry out in pain from Its reply, but Tom's heart still beat itself silly with the evil stemming from Its voice. "There is a score I need you to settle, and rather than come down and do it myself I want you to do it for me. Now watch and no more interruptions please,"

Tom was a bit ticked that this Power felt like It could use him as a tool. He didn't feel like being anybody's pawn. Yet the Power was the only thing keeping Tom alive. He hated that as well. The fact that he feared and was annoyed with this being yet he had to rely on It. Tom turned back to the screen.

It now showed a more specific picture. The camera was hovering in low stratosphere. Mountains seemed to be rising themselves out of the earth, and rivers flowed out of thin air and spilled themselves on the once bare ground. Tom's eyes widened as he realized what he was witnessing. They were making the Earth.

"There was a particular patch of the planet that I favored. I wanted it for my own, to cultivate it into one of the greatest war empires on your Earth. My little sister, whom the One so fondly calls the 'Bright One', wanted it also. She sensed what I wanted to do with it and disapproved. We had both already claimed other parts of your Earth. The other Powers seeing that my patch of Earth was bigger, sided with my sister and urged me to let her have it. I refused and we went to war.

"I gave my people weapons that could wipe out armies at a time. I thought I could win, but my sister tricked me!" Its voice rose with hatred, "She gave all of HER children the gift of wizardry. It was wizardry against weapons, and the wizardry won."

On the screen a war raged. Light versus Dark. Wizardry versus Weaponry. And although Tom didn't understand half of what was being said, he was still mesmerized by the scene depicted on the page. This magic the people were doing was fantastic. And without wands! Only the most skilled of wizards knew how to do that.

The battle Tom was watching eased to an end. The Dark forces on the Lone Power's side fell, and the Light armies raised their voices in triumph.

"If I have one victory it is this: The One said that the Bright One had created too many wizards and that she would have to reduce it so that the number of wizards and the number of those without wizardry were balanced."

On the scene a beautiful being of light appeared, the light radiating from her wrapped around the people she had created as if protecting them.

"The Bright One didn't want that. She didn't trust me even though she had won. She knew me too well for that. She wanted her creations to be well armed when we fought again, for we would fight again. In an imbecilic waste of Power, the Bright One gave some of her wizardry to her creations. The 'magic', she called it, would be passed down from parent to child so that her citizens were well armed whenever I chose to attack again. There were side effects at least. With too many wizards the magic provided had to be denoted down. The magic that they had wouldn't be as strong as it would have been, had they been born natural wizards. Their magic could only be channeled through use of a wand and even then it still wasn't as powerful. The 'Bright One' changed the rules for that country and suffered the consequences. Giving up her status as Power she became the country's first wand maker. Inside the wand reveals the story of how the country came to be, written in the Speech. Though most of your kind never bother to look. Only the wand-makers knew of the sacrifice my little sister was forced to make. They had to for they were the ones who engraved that story in every wand. The Speech was wizard's language, the language of the Powers, and the language of all things living or non-living. It was the Speech and the story in every wand that made them work. Only natural wizards, wizards who would have possessed wizardry even if the Bright Power hadn't given it to everyone, could make wands for only they understood the Speech.

"My sister died a mortal and soon after the wand-makers stopped telling her tale. They quickly forgot about her altogether, and soon their understanding of the speech was lost. They knew how to weave the characters together, and could still write them for the power of wizardry was still in their heart, but without understanding of the story the power wasn't nearly as great.

"Time went on and natural wizards became few far in between."

At the words 'time went on' the screen began showing a visual timeline. Tom watched as the history of Great Britain unfolded. Only not Muggle Great Britain, but wizard's Great Britain. He watched as their power diminished, from the Great War at the creation of Great Britain, to almost nothing in comparison. Then Tom saw the history that was taught in his textbooks, the one current historians knew of. It had been one Professor Binns had taught him, but now he was seeing things in a different light. If what the Lone Power said was true… If Tom wasn't just dreaming all of this… Then that would mean…

Tom wanted to break open his own wand to find this story written. He wanted to know if this was all true. Because if it was… Tom could learn the Speech, and use it to become the most powerful wizard. He wouldn't tell anyone about what he had learned, for what fun is it being in power with someone else? No. Maybe Tom would become a wand-maker, or at least an apprentice only so he could learn how to make one. And then he'd make a powerful one. The most powerful wand they'd ever seen. He'd wipe out all who opposed him with this wand, and when his admirers asked him of his secrets he'd just smile mysteriously…

But instead of breaking out his wand and dissecting it, he managed to stay still and watch the history of magic fall on the screen.

They were quickly approaching the twentieth century. Tom wondered whether this book's screen would show the future and he leaned forward eagerly for that. But the picture the screen stopped on was not of the future, it was a picture of Tom.

"What?" was all Tom could say.

"Time went on," the Lone Power continued, "and I still hadn't raised an army to declare war on my sister's. I never felt that I needed to. In my opinion my sister was gone and so I had won. But then I got wind of some news. My sister was being re-born. She, of course, needed a mortal shell to do this. I want to prepare for that moment. I want to be ready with an army when she comes. And I want you, Tom, to build it for me."

To hadn't looked away from his picture on the screen, but now he turned away from it to examine what the Lone One had said.

"Build an army for you?" Tom asked.

His first thought was why him? What made him special? But Tom was beginning to get excited about this. Beginning? No, he was already overly enthusiastic about everything the Lone One was saying. Especially about the power. He didn't have time to think 'Why me'; he could only think 'Lucky me'. And also…

"What's in it for me?"

He had been hesitant to ask this question. What if the Lone Power let him suffocate in Empty Space for asking something so arrogant and greedy? After all, It had already given him information that no other wizard was aware of, was Tom selfish to ask for more?

Perhaps the Lone Power didn't think so. "This," came Its reply. The book closed and began to float towards Tom. Tom put out his hands to receive it, frowning, a little disappointed. "A book?" Sure it had a cool Never Before Seen movie playing inside of it, but was this all?

"No," the Lone Power answered, "POWER. The kind of power that no other wizard of Great Britain will be able to have. Tom Marvalo Riddle, you are the only natural-wizard in Great Britain."

Tom held his breath. This was just like the time where Dumbledore came to the orphanage and had announced that Tom was a wizard. Only more so. Much more so. The book began to glow brighter and Tom could feel it. He could feel the power flow into him.

The book flipped open a few pages. Tom felt as though he'd been put on a spotlight, even though the empty space was void of light. He felt eyes, as if the Lone Power had decided to lose the omni-present thing and was now in front of him staring at him, waiting for his decision.

"All you have to do is read these words,"

For a split second Tom felt antsy. You should always read a contract before you sign it right? But he felt the Lone Power getting impatient and he didn't want that. Besides, this was POWER. Tom would be the strongest of all wizards. Give this up? No way. Convinced, Tom began to read.

"In Entropy's name, and for Entropy's sake…"

Too caught up in the weight of this moment, Tom did not hear the faint, but menacing laughter in the distance…

Tom didn't hear from the Lone One for years. Decades. It had been almost half a century since he'd taken the oath. But the disappearance of the one who had given him the power had not diminished the power itself. Tom had found that his magic was now stronger than ever before. He wowed his teachers and the people around him by performing complex spells, and even creating some himself. Even though at first Tom had denounced the book as meaningless, he soon relied on the book for everything. In this book, the Manual it called itself, more rewarding and complex spells could be done. Rather than rely on the flick of a wand, Tom practiced drawing diagrams. At night in his dormitory he could be heard chanting a strange language. His roommates figured it was homework for Ancient Runes, and his Ancient Rune classmates figured Tom, the loner, had made up a language in which he could talk to himself. In actuality Tom was practicing the Speech. And he was getting good.

Tom never broke apart his wand. He stole a wand from another student, broke it apart and gazed at the ingredients. There, just as the Lone Power had said, was the story. The sentences of Speech were finely twirled around usual wand material, in this case a flaming red phoenix feather. Gingerly, Tom picked up the string of Speech and held it in his hand. There was the old story. He memorized every curve and every line of that story in the Speech. The story was important; it now stood as his purpose.

When Tom was not busy with his homework, he worked on translating the story. His true desire was to design a better wand, one more brilliant than Ollivander could ever make, and powerful enough that when faced with Albus Dumbledore, the old man would crack. And Tom was a loner no more.

Remembering his part of the deal, Tom busied making himself an army. He called them "friends" but really he thought of them as his soldiers. He chose only the best and the brightest, of three of the four houses. No Gryffindor ever joined him, but then he didn't expect them to. He had a powerful army of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and a majority of Slytherins. Each could do deadly things with a wand, but none had as much power as he. He liked it that way. He was the leader of this army and no one would upstage him.

In order to gather his soldiers, he had to adopt a belief that attracted them. His "cause". It was true that Tom hated those weaker than him, and who was weaker than Muggles? Unable to defend themselves with magic, or wizardry even. He'd seen what happened to those who relied on weaponry within the Lone One's presentation, and he thought them pathetic. So he bound his soldiers together on the face that he was against all non-magic, all those different and weaker than he. He couldn't tell them the real reason, or they would want his power for their own.

Of course there were those who heavily opposed what he was doing. Once Tom found that none of those who opposed him was a reincarnation of the Bright One he grew bored. His Death Eaters (his name for his army, clever isn't it?) took care of that. Things went smoothly and he was feared. The Bright One had yet to show, but when she did, he'd be ready.

And from the news Tom had just gotten, that day would be soon. An oracle had prophesied about his defeat, surely this meant the Bright One? Surely this meant that the war he had anticipated for 40 years was finally here?

It was the sudden sound of the Power's voice that made him certain. It came to him in a dream, and told him that the time had come. The mortal who would eventually harbor the Bright One had been born. It was up to Tom to make sure that he never grew old enough to have the Bright One reach full potential.

Tom set out to find and destroy that little one. After disposing of James Potter and Lily Evans, two who had faced against him many times before, the dark wizard grinned evily, knowing that the easiest part had come. Against the "Bright One", Tom used the most frightening spell in his Manual, known even throughout the wizarding world. The Killing Curse. One of the Unforgivable Curses, and most fitting for a charge of the Lone Power. Yet, even with that strong curse, and even with his power amplified past that of a regular wizard, Tom had been defeated.

Defeated, by a giggling, coo-ing infant. He expected the Lone One to be angry, but It only laughed ruefully. "you shouldn't have expected it to be so easy. That was not the real war, the real one has yet to come. When it does you and your army will be ready,"

Tom failed to see how that was possible; the boy had reduced him to little more than nothing. But he didn't have time to question the Power before It left him.

It would be 13 years before Tom would see the Lone Power again, or rather feel It because It was now inside of him. The next time the almost forgotten Power whispered Its instructions, Tom felt a stirring inside his newly reborn veins. Savoring being inside a strong, able body, Tom realized the Lone Power had been right. He had just faced Harry Potter, Harborer of the Bright One, for a 4th time, only this time Harry had revived him. Tom was strong now, stronger than ever. He had an army, this one even mightier with the former members and the addition their sons and daughters. Tom, now Lord Voldemort, stroked the head of his pet snake, and Naigini hissed in approval.

Both he and the Lone Power would get satisfaction from this battle. Lord Voldemort had developed a hatred for Harry Potter; he no longer felt as if it were just part of a deal that he destroy him. This time both he and the Lone One had great things to gain from winning this war. And Voldemort would win this war.

-lys phillips