A/N: Welcome to 'Little Boy Reborn'! It can be read as a stand-alone, but is the last of the 'Little Boy' trilogy. I hope you enjoy this long overdue one shot!

" Potter, Albus."

It was at that point that the whole hall had their eyes set on the middle child of the Potter family.

He swallowed.

Hard.

It was then that Albus gathered his courage and forced his legs to glide across the nineteen year old floor of the Great Hall (rebuilt courtesy of the Light Side, after the Battle of Hogwarts).

He heard his brother laugh at him, almost jeering at his 'ickle baby brother'- though shortly afterward, his father would silence him, reminded by Bellatrix Lestrange and her mocking of him.

There was no father to silence him now.

Albus wished Lily were here: James listened to her, everyone loved the youngest member of their family.

He finally arrived at the stool and sat down, legs almost shaking with fear.

The Sorting Hat descended on his head, and Albus felt his tongue go dry.

Please not Slytherin, please don't sort me into Slytherin-

Ah, another ambitious Potter.

Albus started.

W-was that you?

Come on, get your cunning together. I know you have it. I can feel it in you.

What are you talking about?

You are… Familiar. Slytherin would be a great place for you.

Familiar? My father-

No, not in that sense, though he was meant to be in Slytherin. Perhaps… Yes. I will do what I couldn't before.

No-

You have-

Please, look deeper! I'm begging you!-

" Dad, where are we?" A seven year old Albus asked, blinking in confusion around himself.

" We're at the cemetery," Harry whispered back, his gentle gaze falling on his middle son- the child most like himself. " We're visiting your grandparents."

James and Lily were absent. Their mother had taken them to their respective martial arts clubs: James was doing Karate and Lily Taekwondo.

Albus found martial arts rather useless in the magical world- what could they possibly do when you were duelling, especially since they didn't require any modicum of contact?

Nonetheless, James wanted to show off to his Muggle and Magical friends, and Lily found joy in knowing she could beat any boy up who dared approach her.

James, two years his senior, and Lily, two years his junior, were as different from him as can be. Both of them enjoyed pranking others and being, in general, loud and rowdy. They were the personification of what a perfect Gryffindor student might be- and Albus Severus had an inkling of an idea that they had inherited it from their uncle Ronald Billius Weasley.

His father had placated him when he voiced his concerns about where he got his personality from and had informed him that he was like him- quiet and solid.

Albus still wasn't convinced. He couldn't have inherited his bookish, studious nature from his aunt Hermione as they were only related through his uncle's marriage. He also couldn't have inherited his vindictive nature from any of his parents when his sibling's pranks backfired on them- which was particularly true of when they tried to prank him.

It was odd; Albus had this weird sense of knowing whenever magic was used around him. He knew his mother was using magic to scrub the pots before he even stepped foot into the kitchen. He knew his father was helping out with the cooking by Accio'ing the ingredients and using a timer spell before he even smelled the cooked breakfast.

Special, his father had called him. Powerful and special. Very insightful, too. His father had told him that the only person he knew that had that sort of power was the man who Albus was named after- the previous headmaster of Hogwarts. His father often called him an 'Old Spirit', though he was joking.

He never paid attention to Divination.

His father knelt before a large headstone, setting down the lilies in front of the weathered rock.

" I wish you were here," Harry murmured. " I hope you're proud of me- and your grandchildren." Harry clutched his son closer to him, his arm wound around Albus' shoulders. " I know I am." He kissed the crown of his head, and Albus felt curiously detached from the entire situation.

He looked up, read the names on the grave, and heard a high pitched scream of pain.

Green light flashed before his eyes.

Albus gasped and fell back.

" Albus!" His father cried. Shaken, Albus got to his feet. " What is it? Are you alright?"

Albus was breathing heavily.

" D- Didn't you hear it? See it?"

" See what?" His father looked around himself wildly.

" The scream! The green light!" Albus was scared now- was he going to the loony bin like how James spoke scathingly of Luna Scamander nee Lovegood, the namesake of his little sister?

His father was stunned.

" A-Albus." He whispered. " Is this the first time?-"

" There are nightmares." Albus whispered. " I remember seeing bodies everywhere- and- and-"

Albus broke down, and his father held him, hushing his son.

" It's okay. You've probably been reading too many of those silly newsletters, yes? Yes, Albus?" His father was quaking.

" No! You know I don't touch them! You said yourself- they're rubbish!" Albus denied, vehemently.

" Okay. A Seer. Maybe you're a Seer. Yes? I'll take you for a test. Then we'll see. We're worrying over nothing, yes, son?" He near stammered.

Albus stared at his father's desperate face and nodded almost imperceptibly.

" Good boy." He was clutched again. " My precious son. Good boy."

Naturally, he'd failed the test. His father hadn't forgotten about the situation, but it drew them closer than they'd ever been before. Albus had never gone to his parents beds when he had a nightmare, unlike his brother and sister. His parents had been worried- they'd been near convinced they'd done something wrong when raising him, that he didn't trust them and other such nonsense. It wasn't true, and his parents then thought he was just brave and had these dreams so often that it didn't faze him anymore. They were concerned about this and thought he might become detached from the sense of right and wrong, and had him go to a psychologist every week.

Did he have more bad dreams?

Yes.

Was he feeling alright?

No.

Did he ever feel the urge to hurt his brother and sister?

No response.

It wasn't that he hated them; it was just that he was so sick and tired of being picked on mercilessly all the time. He wanted to drive them mad, mute them, do anything if it meant that they bloody left him alone.

His mother started to become hysterical and made connections that didn't make sense- or at least his father had said.

His birthday was on the 31st December.

He kept a black, leather-bound diary he couldn't bear to part from.

He was insanely handsome.

He was intelligent- an introvert- and preferred to stay in his room rather than go out. His teachers moved him up a year in his Muggle primary school- another source of his brother's teasing (and his envy, his father had claimed).

He was incredibly powerful, and had total control over his magic. He could summon his bottle since he was two.

He was the only one out of the three of them that had inherited his father's Killing Curse green eyes- or did they belong to another boy that went to Hogwarts long, long ago?

Albus didn't know.

His mother had taken to ignoring him completely, instead choosing to devote herself to her other children. Taking pity on him, his father drew ever closer to Albus, seeing himself in him, ostracised and singled out.

It wasn't that bad. Honestly. Lily didn't hate him- she had some compassion and often reminisced with him, or talked about the future.

He had his cousins- and thank God his uncle Ron didn't stand by his mother and ignore him completely. He even brought him a pair of false glasses and drew a lightning bolt scar on his forehead just for the sake of pointing out how similar he looked to his father when he was eleven- though he had to use a huge amount of hairspray to keep his hair looking messy.

Those days when he was 'Harry's clone' were the best- and he missed them dearly, though his brother and sister were treated similarly to look like Harry's parents. Then the room would fall silent and Harry would quietly order the children to go to bed.

Sometimes Albus would linger behind, and hear his father talk about the meagre memories he had of his parents, or listen to him recite the list of the dead (his father had memorised them: even the names of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. He'd said that they were kids, once, too).

Then Rose would sit with him and discuss their Muggle class work, or Albus would help her with her homework. Whilst Rose had inherited her mother's intelligence, she wasn't nearly as neurotic as she was when her tests drew close, so in that respect she was like her father. She had the mind, but not the drive.

They'd passed their SATS with flying colours, and Albus was offered two scholarships: to Harrow and Eton (having gotten perfect marks where Rose had scored 91%. He was featured in the Nation's newsletters), to Rose's envy. Since then, she'd become a lot more studious until even her mother told her to relax for fear of burning out her daughter's brain.

Unfortunately, Albus was barred from attending as he had to go to Hogwarts to learn how to control his magic. If those private schools weren't boarding schools, then perhaps his parents would have let him go, whilst hiring a magical tutor- but alas, that wasn't the case. The opportunity slipped between Albus' fingers, and he'd cried for a day and a night before pulling himself together and deciding he was going to become just as intelligent in Hogwarts.

It was this ambition that caught his father's attention- and, unfortunately, James' too. Then he was tortured with snide remarks about how he'd join Scorpius Malfoy in Slytherin and the like. At this point Lily had stepped in to defend both Albus and Scorpius, speaking about how different he was from his father- but then James made the scalding point about Lily's infatuation with the blonde. Then Rose caught on and started to appreciate the Veela-like beauty of the boy, also. The two girls still wouldn't speak since the revelation, though they were discreet enough to hide it from their parents.

Of course, Lily was right. Malfoy's sorting was one of the most unexpected- he'd broken the Malfoy tradition of going into Slytherin and joined the Ravenclaws before being rewarded with a huge round of applause. The Ravenclaws had welcomed him with donkey scrubs, group hugs and a chant: " Malfoy, Bad Faith, left the Slithering Snakes! Malfoy, good faith, joined the Eagles and took the cake!" The boy was flushed with joy, albeit nervous- his father had undoubtedly told him to be sorted into Slytherin. It was at that point that Albus was thankful for not having such a judgemental, inflexible, close minded family.

Tom Riddle.

What about him? Albus was confused- who on earth was Tom Riddle? However, the name elicited a stir deep within him- familiarity, perhaps?

Impossible! The hat even sounded afraid, as if though it wanted to throw itself off his head.

" SLYTHERIN!" It screamed, desperate to be away from him.

The hat was lifted, and the hall was silent. No chant or welcome from the Slytherins. His brother, who'd only teased him, was staring at him with his mouth wide open. Rose, who was previously admiring Malfoy's profile, looked upset that her competitive- albeit favourite- cousin wouldn't join her with the Lions.

Seeing this, Albus wanted to cry, to tear himself apart, to tell the whole world he wasn't a damn Snake. But the Hall had already accepted him as the villain, the evil snake- the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors already narrowed their eyes, considering him their instant enemy- and Albus was unsurprised (though it still hurt) that his brother was amongst them. Rose didn't want to believe it. The Ravenclaws regarded him coolly- even Malfoy was analysing him, where he fit in and why he was in the house the stuck up blonde ponce was meant to be in.

Albus was convinced this was some cruel joke.

He'd expected Ravenclaw, at the very least. He knew Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were a fantasy away- and it would now be impossible to bridge the new divide between him and his brother, though there was still hope in Rose. The Slytherins glared at him, hating him for being the son of the man who defiled their family name.

He wanted to cry.

But Slytherins don't cry.

He schooled himself and made his face as unemotional as possible, his steps definitive on the stone floor.

He could do this.

He can't do this.

It had been some years since Albus had been in Slytherin. He'd found his niche as the quiet, but brilliant boy. The poor victim, but was ever so brave to endure what he'd endured.

His mother had cast him out of the house, and his father was the sole supporter of him in his orphanage- Wools Orphanage. It had been burnt to the ground in the last few decades, but had been rebuilt into a classy, modern building complex. His father had shivered when he first set eyes on it, and didn't want to deposit his eleven year old son there, but his wife had been insistent, and threatened that she would divorce and take Lily and James away if Harry didn't abandon him.

Since then, the Martyred Potter family had been defamed and were treated like the Malfoys- the pariah of society, but having to be put up with. Harry Potter had stood up for equal rights for all- the public now called him a hypocrite for allowing his son to be abandoned simply because he was a Slytherin. Since then, his mother had attempted to put the bad publicity away by taking him back, but there were wounds that were inflicted on Albus that were too deep to heal. He refused her help, and accepted only the income from his father's pocket. Since the papers discovered that Harry was supporting him, he'd been elevated, and Ginny brought down. Harry had stood for children's rights for some months since, and Ginny had been spat on in public.

Albus was currently sitting in the Slytherin common room, his voluminous hair curled around his eye in a fringe, forties-style. His green, piercing eyes shone with intelligence and the rounded face of his earlier years dissolved to reveal a handsome man with a structured face shape, high cheekbones, a straight aquiline nose and a prominent jaw. His lips were red, and his elegantly shaped eyebrows were currently furrowed.

Albus Severus Potter was the most pursued young man in the whole of Hogwarts, and he had the pile of love notes next to him to prove it.

He took a sip of his water and responded as politely as he possibly could to each and every one of them. He didn't have it in him to completely rebuff them- no, he was reminded of his mother- so he scheduled some meetings with every single one of them. Tuition groups for the first, second, third and fourth year girls (around seventy girls in total, some even shirking their house loyalties just to be with him) and study groups for the fifth, sixth and seventh year girls. He considered himself too young to actively search for love- despite turning sixteen tomorrow- and tried to keep the meetings as cordial as possible. He held every girl at an arm's length, especially the first to fourth years. Despite this, there were still advances that he had to indirectly decline to, instead offering to join his groups, and some of his food and drink had been doused in love potion.

Rose went to his study group, but felt nothing for him in that regard. She considered it her duty as his cousin to be with him, just as Lily considered it her duty to be his sister and join his tuition group. Malfoy was still as dismissive as ever, and his brother's pranks down the corridor were slowly starting to become more and more deadly- blaming him for the family shame inflicted upon his mother. Sometimes he flat out cursed him, but the staff turned a blind eye.

Headmistress McGonagall in particular seemed to be shaken by the mere image of him. Whenever he had to discuss behaviour and the likes- since he was a prefect- she seemed to suddenly become white and drawn, as if though remembering something that chilled her. She never met his eyes, instead looking over his shoulder and kept their liaison short and curt.

Albus swirled the water in his glass. Draco Malfoy, though he had shorn down on his animosity to his father, was ecstatic at the public shaming of him and even offered to adopt Albus, but he succinctly declined (to the thankfulness of Rose and Lily, too disgusted by the idea of being in love with their adopted brother/cousin). Malfoy had been a little ruffled, but still offered his family to him. In that same year, Scorpius became the first Malfoy in seven generations to become a brother. Twins were born to the family when he was just fourteen, and he had the honour of naming them in the Black tradition- after stars and constellations. Albus had put his two pence in when Malfoy was stumped- one of the girls were named by him. They were then officially declared as Lucy Narcissa and Lyra Nemesis Malfoy. Lucy Narcissa was an obvious choice, Lucy being a star and connected to his father's name, and Narcissa being named after his mother. Albus responded in kind by offering Lyra- the constellation of the scales- and Nemesis- after the nymph who cursed Narcissus (having a tangent of Narcissa's name). He thought it was rather clever, and since then Scorpius had become a loving brother and far more warmer to the school, even accepting Lily and Rose's dysfunctional attempt at courting him. He'd even stopped some Slytherins from tormenting Albus and threatened James if he beat Albus up again.

The clock chimed.

Midnight.

Albus sighed and finished off his last letter to a first year girl who'd written her letter in a shaking, nervous script.

The middle child of the Potter family retired to his dormitory, ignoring the glares and mock-flirtatious winks of the boys as he passed by and pretending not to hear the sighs of love struck girls.

Just another day at Hogwarts.

Except he was sixteen today.

Just before he reached his four poster bed, a searing pain beat down on his head.

A scream rang out through the dormitory, and Albus crumbled to his knees before he realised it was him that was screaming.

Then, his vision was devoured by black.

A two year old boy wandering about the halls of an orphanage, a five year old sobbing as he nursed the wounds on his body, a seven year old eyes widening as the cane descended on his head, an eight year old sleeping uncomfortably on a lumpy bed, an empty space in his wardrobe where 'Pride and Prejudice' should be, a boy running towards an air raid shelter before being locked out- shrapnel lodged in his stomach, a boy with dead eyes brandishing a knife at two terrified children in a cave, a handsome boy pointing his wand at a man who looked just like him, a diary, a ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem, a baby with green eyes- his redhead mother pleading to die in place of her 'Harry', and a snake, and a cauldron, the Ministry of Magic, bodies, bodies, bodies, bodies, a battle- destroyed Hogwarts, red, green, red, green- Nagini's beheaded, Potter overpowers him, red, green, red, green, a collision of spells- and-

Potter, dad, Potter, dad, Potter, dad-

HE KILLED ME!

Tom bolted up, but the school nurse firmly pushed his chest so that he fell backwards on the bed.

" Careful. You're going to make your head swim." Mediwitch Abbott- shouldn't it be Madam Rosemary?- snapped at Tom, casting her wand twice over his body. Tom growled.

" Who the hell do you think you are?" He hissed. Abbott looked like she was about to slap him.

" Excuse me?" She roared. Tom narrowed his eyes at her. " Last time I checked, I was the one who helped you, Albus Severus Potter!"

Tom hissed, jerking his head away.

" I am not that emotional blood traitor. I am the last Heir of Slytherin. I am Lord Voldemort- the Dark Lord, and you will bow to me." He spat. Abbott looked disgusted.

" How dare you?" She whispered, her voice full of anger. " Just wait until I bring your father."

Dad, Potter, dad, Potter-

Tom shook his head- pigs would fly when he'd be his father.

The sound of a patronus being cast grated on Tom's sensitive ears. He closed his eyes.

Ginevra, the child, was right to abandon him.

Harry Potter probably knew who he was, but chose to continue to fund him in the orphanage anyway.

Why?

Tom Riddle closed his eyes to the sound of laughter and love- it hurt so much, and he wished he was in his previous, loveless body.

But no.

In his meeting in limbo between his mother, himself and his 'father' (he doubted it was his father- he'd probably be burning in the pits of hell. Then again, so should he) he was reincarnated as Harry Potter's son. Even Harry had commented on the likeness between them- quiet and solid, he'd said in the cemetery.

The fireplace flared into life and a built, forbidding form stood in front of the killing curse green flames.

" Tom Riddle. We meet again." Tom nearly flinched- he'd expected Potter to whip out his wand and kill him without a beat.

" Last time I was in a state of disadvantage. You destroyed my horcruxes without my knowing."

Abbott screamed and something shattered- she'd heard undeniable proof of who Albus Severus Potter truly was.

Albus silkily stood up, the sheets falling off his body and his school uniform rippling around his well built body.

" You shouldn't have made them in the first place." His father countered, looking up slightly to meet Tom's eyes. Tom smirked at this petty satisfaction- he was taller than middle aged Potter at sixteen. Tom opened his mouth, but Harry cut in. " Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Riddle hissed and propelled Potter into the wall, his fingers digging into his shoulders.

" You killed me. What kind of sick Karma is this?" Tom shook the man who fathered him. " Did you know? IS THIS YOUR IDEA?!" He threw Potter to the ground and stepped on his chest.

He started to wheeze.

" Albus-"

" I AM NOT-!"

" If you aren't," Harry breathed heavily. " If you aren't my son, then break my ribs."

Tom hesitated.

" Go on then! KILL ME! KILL YOUR FATHER! STOMP ON MY CHEST, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" Harry ordered, red in the face. " KILL-"

" You're planning something." Tom tried to quail the rising feeling of fire running through his body, up his throat. " I- I know you are-"

" I'm not. I swear to Merlin I'm not." Harry took in a few weighty breaths. " Stomp on my chest and it's over. No cheats. No rebounding Killing Curses." There was a tight smile spread thinly across his lips. " I'm dead, and it's game over for the Wizarding World. You want that, don't you? You want to kill everyone. Yeah?"

Tom swallowed.

" I-"

" Oh yeah. And like every tantruming child in history," Harry's voice became bitter. " You don't actually know what you want. Your Death Eaters are dislocated, displaced across England and Europe. Lucius Malfoy chose to turn himself in- and Scorpius Malfoy's mother would be damned if her son would be a Pureblood supremist! You knew, didn't you? When you met him at five years old. Yeah?"

" Pa?" Albus watched Scorpius with curious eyes. " I read the book you gave me and it said 'Mudblood'. What's a Mudblood?"

Draco's face turned white and Astoria Greengrass's expression turned furious.

" BOOK?!" She shrieked. She slapped her husband across the face, and when he tried to argue, she turned to her son. " If you ever say that word again, then you better hope you aren't my son, understand?!" She hissed. Scorpius swallowed, bowing his head, and his mother's face softened, regret written across her features.

" Yes, ma." He whispered.

Tom's leg on his father's chest trembled.

" I know what I want-"

" Then tell me!"

" I-Immortality." His voice was uncertain. " I have a goal. I want to be immortal."

" And look where that got you. Mad. You couldn't even think straight. You destroyed your ancestor's home- your home- Hogwarts, for God's sake." Harry finished bitterly. " The thing you need to know, Tom, is that immortality isn't living forever- it isn't like that. It's everyone else dying."

" You wouldn't know!" He applied a bit more pressure to his father's chest, and Harry choked a little. " You were never immortal! YOU NEVER TASTED THE GREATNESS I ACHIEVED!"

" AND FOR WHAT?" Harry roared. " YOU'RE GOING TO LIVE TO THE END OF TIME? YOU'RE DELUSIONAL! HAVE YOU EVER KNOWN WHY NO ONE HAD EVER MADE MORE THAN ONE HORCRUX?!"

" Because they were cowards!" Tom shouted.

" NO!" Harry responded in kind. " It's because they weren't as STUPID as you were!" Tom flinched, but told himself it was Albus inside of him. " They knew that it would drive them insane, that it would kill them! But you were young, and you were arrogant, and you went and made five horcruxes in a decade." Harry clapped his hands with sarcasm. " And the award of stupidity goes to Lord Voldemort, who made seven horcruxes-"

" SEVEN? I MADE SIX!-"

" I was the sixth horcrux. Nagini was the seventh. You killed my mother- which fragmented your soul- and the horcrux latched onto me. The only living thing in the room."

Tom trembled, his breath wispy.

" No."

" Yes. That's why I let you kill me. To destroy the horcrux- and then you."

" You're-" Tom licked his lips, still not ready to face the situation. " You're my father. You were that willing to kill me?"

" I didn't have you until 2005, so I couldn't have known. And remember. You tried to kill me first. You killed my mother. I knew who you were since that day in the cemetery-" Tom forced himself not to flinch. " And yet I persevered and I forgave. I helped you, God damn it. Can't you just forgive and move on? Just stop being so bloody bitter?"

" I've lost everything. I killed my biological mother the day I fell out of her womb and the orphanage made sure I knew that." Tom whispered- and Harry's expression was contorted with sympathy. " My father- I killed him. He never took me in- never looked after me. And one of his last words were that he'd never accept me. And since then- I've lost my Death Eaters. Bellatrix is dead. I can't- I can't trust anyone. And you have the nerve to say you forgive me?" Tom hissed.

" Well guess what? You're my son! I loved and cared for you for sixteen years. And I forgave you the day I found out! I've forgiven you for eleven years!"

Tom shook- he lifted his foot.

" Tom." Harry gave a last ditch attempt.

" You're not my father." His voice was strangled.

Harry reached into his pockets and retracted the antique mirror that Albus gave to him on his birthday- he was eight and Harry still kept it.

A year after he knew.

" Look into the mirror." Tom closed his eyes, and he pretended the tears that fell onto his cheeks didn't exist. " Look, son."

Tom wiped his face and opened his blurry eyes.

" You see that? You've got my hair colour. And your mother's texture. Your eyebrows belong to my mother, and your nose to me. Your lips are full- pretty, yeah?" Tom wanted to crucio Harry for the jab at his gender, but had no wand. " And they come from my mother too. Your skin- as pale as moonlight. Like Ginny and my mum. Your body comes from my father."

" I look the same as I did before." Tom's voice was cold as ice. " This is Tom Richard Riddle's face looking down at you. This is his body that is crushing your ribs."

" Your eyes." Harry said, desperately. " Please, Tom!-"

" I don't look like you."

" Tom, please, look in the mirror. You're right, I'm grasping at straws- you have Tom Riddle's face and body. But please. Just look at your eyes."

Tom took the mirror off Harry, bringing it close to his face.

Green, emerald eyes shone back at him.

Killing curse green.

As similar to Potter's as can be.

The mirror fell from his hands, and it felt like an age before it hit the floor and shattered.

His eyes weren't obsidian black as they had been before. The damning evidence lay in his optics.

" That's seven years bad luck, then." Harry joked, weakly.

Tom retracted his leg.

Harry got up, slowly, complaining about his back.

" I-" All breath escaped his lungs.

" I forgive you, Tom." Harry opened his arms. Tom just stood there, but an unprovoked memory of a little boy, dressed as Merlin and running into his father's arms, caused him to sink into Potter's arms.

" My boy. My son."

A/N: Last of the trilogy- but it was a year or two overdue. Forgive me?

:)

Hope you all liked it!