This fic has been on my mind for awhile, and I finally got around to writing up the first chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Any material you recognize is definitely all J.K.'s, and any you don't might also be hers.


As the year of 1942 came to an end, one not-quite-that-evil-yet Tom Marvolo Riddle found himself lying restlessly on his bed. Tossing and turning to no avail, Tom settled on finally giving in to paying mind to the thoughts that regularly plagued him on this particular day.

Not once, in all his sixteen years of life, had his birthday been a pleasant ordeal. The best of them were uneventful, and the worst of them left memories—scars, really—that he had no intentions of reminiscing on.

This one was not an exception.

His morning had begun quietly, and the rest of the day followed suit. The halls of Hogwarts were relatively silent, as nearly all its students had left for the Christmas Holidays. The Slytherin house, especially, was desolate of signs of life, seeing as most of its house members belonged to ancient families that adored their shallow traditions of yearly Christmas gatherings with one another. Those kinds of families loved their annual purity circle jerk.

As it was so, Tom found himself completely alone—yet again—as his sixteenth year on the planet began.

The loneliness wouldn't usually bother him—for most of the break, Tom had revelled in the peace that came with everyone's departure—but his birthday brought a new layer of vague sadness to his life. Throughout the years, Tom had come to notice just how grand birthdays could be for people who were truly loved by those around them. Even at Hogwarts, while far away from their families, the majority of students could find themselves buried in gifts from their friends.

While not one for indulging in such silly emotions, Tom couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

It was silly, and he was well aware of it, but the eerie emptiness of his room, coupled with how bland his day had been, gave Tom the opportunity to feel something akin to remorse for the way he'd spent his last four years at Hogwarts. Sure, his followers were good enough company on the rare occasions that Tom desired it, but he was well aware that their small talk was simply that—small talk. They didn't know when his birthday was, and they didn't care to know. That wasn't what bothered Tom, though—it wasn't as if he'd been particularly looking forward to celebrating Malfoy's birthday or anything.

What bothered him was the little doubt that danced in the back his mind every so often. Lust for power be damned, sometimes Tom wondered what could have happened had he pursued a normal life at Hogwarts. Perhaps, had he not been sorted into Slytherin as he had once so desperately asked to be, he would've have found himself playing Quidditch with the Gryffindors, casting experimenting spells with the Ravenclaws, or even—dare he think it—meandering about with the Hufflepuffs. Cunning as he may be, Tom was just as sure of his brevity and intelligence.

Instead, Tom had spent the last four years quietly recruiting future participants in his plans, running around and gaining favoritism from those around him. He was fairly sure it'd be worth it in the long run—his time at Hogwarts was, after all, little more than a stepping stone in his quest for absolute power—but a vague sense of loss still sometimes crossed his mind.

One of those times was tonight.

Tom shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head to chase away that same, stupid feeling of loss. In merely a year, when the Ministry no longer had a Trace on him, he'd be free to truly begin his plan to obtain power. When that time arrived, Tom couldn't afford to feel such human emotions.

Willing himself to think of anything but this bout of birthday blues, Tom's mind immersed itself into one of his fondest memories. He squeezed his eyelids shut, remembering the first time he'd felt truly enthusiastic about something in his life. The discovery of the Wizarding World had been exciting—there was no doubt about that—but nothing compared to the nervous, elated sense of wonder he'd felt on his first ride in the Hogwarts Express.

His entire life had changed when Professor Dumbledore appeared at the steps of that dingy orphanage he'd grown up in, and the train ride to Hogwarts was symbolic of the start of his new life—his new dream.

He could imagine it now—the sharp, piercing whistle of the train, the faint chattering that could be heard outside of the compartments, the cold touch of glass against his cheek when he allowed himself to slump against the window for a much needed nap. The details were more vivid than ever.

Too vivid.

As aggressively as he had shut his eyes, Tom used the same amount of force to open them.

His blood ran cold at the scene that awaited him. His bed was no longer that. Instead, the cushiony-feel beneath him now belonged to the familiar seats that lined the compartments of the Hogwarts Express. His dark dorm room was gone, having been replaced by an almost unbearable flood of light that came through the windows. Struggling to adjust his eyes to the drastic change in lighting, his mind just barely registered the sound of the compartment opening.

"Incendio!"

Tom's instincts kicked into high-gear before he even caught sight of his attacker, and he quickly dove out of the bolt of fire's way. His hands fumbled to grasp hold of his wand, and it took only a few milliseconds of fruitless grabbing for him to realize that, wherever he'd gone, his wand had certainly not come with him. Cursing his luck, he braced himself for what was sure to be another attack—people didn't typically use those spells as a simple friendly greeting.

"Expelliarmus."

The voice that called out the disarming spell was much more delicate than that of his first attacker, and Tom took the opportunity to finally identify who the hell was trying to kill him on the bloody Hogwarts Express. It was the most public of public places, and not even Tom was bold enough to try to commit outright murder in front of so many prying eyes.

He wasn't quite sure what it was that he expected to see, but a few kids no older than himself was not it. On the left was a boy of average height, one who didn't seem too striking in appearance. The only thing that immediately stood out to Tom was the peculiar lightning-bolt-shaped scar on the boy's forehead, though nothing else looked too suspicious. Next to him, though, was a girl who much more easily caught Tom's attention, though that was only due to her absolutely ridiculous attire. She held the initial attacker's wand in her hand, not looking at all phased by her companion's actions. Behind them, another boy, this one slightly more disconcerting than the others, seemed paralyzed as he watched the scene unfold.

"Luna!" the boy shouted, making a feeble attempt at snatching his wand back out of her hand.

The girl—Luna—simply gave him a pointed look, refusing to concede it.

Though the boy could have easily overpowered the girl if he wanted to, he chose not to, reluctant in hurting her. This, Tom inferred, meant that they were probably friends with one another. He moved his attention back to the girl, waiting for her to speak.

"I don't suspect you've gone mad, Harry," she paused, pondering about what to say next, "but I can't seem to understand why you're attempting to maim this man. Has a Wrackspurt got you?"

"I can't seem to understand why either, though I do suspect he's gone mad," Tom butt in snarkily, not appreciating almost getting his head singed off.

Though he knew he couldn't reason with the boy if he were out of his mind, he figured he'd try his odds anyways. Analyzing the situation as rationally as he could, he came to the conclusion that he'd never met this boy in his entire life, and he certainly hadn't done anything—yet, of course—to garner such a violent reaction. He threw his hands up as a universal show of 'I mean no harm.'

"Whoever it is you think I am, I can assure you you have the wrong person."

Harry didn't bother answering Luna's question, instead focusing a look so filled with utter hatred that even Tom felt slightly unnerved. "You're Tom Riddle."

Tom blinked. That wasn't what the boy was supposed to say. Though he didn't know what exactly he'd done to the kid, he did know that, at the present moment, being Tom Riddle was not what he wanted to be. "I am most certainly not Tom Riddle."

Harry looked dangerously close to having an aneurysm over Tom's reply. "What do you mean you're not Tom—"

Luna placed Harry's wand back into his hand, successfully cutting off the boy's fairly valid disbelief. She gave Tom a once-over, and though he wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, she seemed to approve of what she saw as she seemed to almost float her way into the seat next to him.

"Well, not-Tom-Riddle, may Harry, Neville, and I share this compartment with you? The rest of them seem to be filled," she spoke loftily, and Tom found himself so shocked at her foolishly forward nature that he couldn't immediately spit out a snarky response.

She didn't wait for him to reply, instead choosing to gesture for her traveling companions to join her in giving Tom some very unwanted company. Still reeling from however the hell he'd gotten himself into the damned situation, Tom didn't have it in him to cause a scene or attack the compartment's new inhabitants. He ignored the wand that was back to being trained on him, instead choosing to try to twist the circumstances into something comprehensible to him.

"Come on, Harry. You're blocking the walkway," Luna spoke again, clearly not caring about her companion's reluctance to join her in her haphazard whims. "I'm sure not-Tom-Riddle has a perfectly sound explanation for who he is."

Tom, in fact, did not, though he had no intentions of revealing this lest he desired another curse being shot at him. He turned to look at the scorch mark the first one had made and grimaced. Without his wand here with him, he doubted he could take on all three of the wizards, along with everyone else that was present on the train.

The two other wizards—Harry and Neville—exchanged a quick glance with each other before finally giving in to Luna's request. Begrudgingly, Harry took a seat directly across from Tom, wand still aimed precariously at his throat. Neville, who Tom had begun to believe was mute, surprised him by being the first one to break the silence.

"So, uh, who are you?" he asked nervously.

Tom wasn't quite sure of what to say. He thought back to the days he'd spent reading as a muggle, scouring for a name that would easily pass for an alias. He couldn't afford to not be Tom—it would be too easy for a simple slip up to give him away in the future—but everything else would have to be a solid lie.

"My name is Tom," he paused to swallow, gauging their reactions, "but the last name is Fitzgerald—as in, not Riddle."

"You expect me to believe that your name is Tom, but you just so happen to not be the Tom that I'm referring to? The one who looks exactly like you?" Harry sputtered, looking appalled at Tom's audacious lie.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure if I were Tom Riddle, I'd be smart enough to at least give you a different first name, too. I can't be faulted for having a name that I'm sure millions have."

Tom resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as he brought up the common nature of his name. It was something he rather loathed about it, though he supposed now it was most likely saving his arse from being spit-roasted by all the passengers on the train. Based on the various faces peering into their compartment as they passed back, Tom could surmise that Harry was a bit of a mini-celebrity. He doubted the boy's fans would be all too pleased with Tom if he were to attack him, regardless if the boy had started it first.

"That's bollocks," Harry spat.

"I can assure you that it's not."

"Prove it, then."

"I'm not quite sure how to do that," Tom replied, lips set in a thin line.

"Guess you're shit out of luck then," Harry snapped back, wand once again raised for an offensive move.

Tom feigned an exasperated sigh, though he hadn't the slightest idea of how in the world he'd prove the lie. He readied himself to cast a shield charm, but, thankfully, the Luna girl unknowingly came to his rescue once more.

"Harry, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be able to relieve—or confirm—your concerns about not-Tom-Riddle once we get to Hogwarts," Luna spoke softly, not sounding concerned in the slightest.

While Tom's words had done little to sway the boy, Luna's had seemed enough to give Harry some peace of mind, if only enough for him to sink back into his seat and lower the wand. His glare, however, remained set on Tom's face.

"I'll be watching you until we get there."

"Lovely."


Andddd there goes the first chapter! What do y'all think of it so far? I've been away from the series for awhile, so forgive me if I make any mistakes about the timeline.

Have a great day!