AN: This is my first piece of fiction ever. It's a cross-over between Harry Potter and WoWP. It takes place during Harry's 5th year (which, for pure convenience, has its timeline changed to coincide with the first season of WoWP). With the exception of, so far, one original character, all characters herein are properties of their respective creators and not of this author. This is a work of pure, imaginative, fan fiction. Any likeness of OCs to real people is purely coincidental and unintentional. Enjoy.

"I must go downstairs," he said finally. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry – take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later," and with that, Dumbledore quietly exited the room. He fully intended to see the Diggorys and console them in their time of greatest despair, but he had one more stop to make first.

Dumbledore made his way up to the Owlery and pointed his wand Westward. Had any minor wizard tried to do what he was about to do, the minor wizard would have gloriously failed; Dumbledore was no minor wizard. With a simple incantation, "expecto patronus," Dumbledore had a message going off towards the United States. He was fairly certain Voldemort wouldn't try any overt acts in Britain yet, but one of the greatest flaws of Fudge was that he couldn't imagine a world where England wasn't the center of everything.

Dumbledore sighed and walked back downstairs, bracing himself for the worst scene humanity had to offer – parents grieving for the loss of a son.

Manhattan

Theresea Russo smiled as she walked back into the apartment. Her husband, Jerry, was sitting on the couch watching wrestling. Today was definitely going to be a good day. Max was at soccer practice, and she had already called a family friend to pick him up. Alex and Justin had gone off with some friends to see a movie. It was just the two of them home alone. They hadn't had an afternoon together in years.

"What're you smilin' about?" her husband asked good naturedly.

"I was just thinkin'. You know, Jerry, the kids are out for the afternoon. The shop's closed. It's just you and me. Alone. In the apartment." She moved on to the couch and started stroking his stomach. "We could do anything you wanted…" she promised.

"Honey, pro wrestling's on. Couldn't you do this later?" He stared at her for a minute and then realized what she meant. "Oh, are you talking about…" they both grinned and she leaned in to kiss him when the door opened.

England

Tom Riddle was back. No, not Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle was a commoner. Nothing more than a schoolboy, forced to obey his inferiors, like the orphanage owner who couldn't possibly fathom the power that he held. Or, even worse, Albus Dumbledore – a man who could do anything if he wanted, but chose to sit back and waste away his life teaching snot-nosed children who'd never be able to even touch an inch of his power. Dumbledore scared Tom more than he liked to admit. Not just that Dumbledore was a continual reminder that there was at least one other entity with the power that Tom had. No, Dumbledore scared Tom because he showed how easy it would be to let his life, and great power, go to waste. Dumbledore, brilliant though he may be, was holding the world back. Tom wouldn't let that happen.

But Tom was weak, so Lord Voldemort had to be born. From the ashes of Tom's mediocre existence was born a true hero. One who would be able to righteously cleanse the world of its impurities and allow the superior race of wizards thrive. Tom was dead. Lord Voldemort was back.

Yet he was not without work. No doubt, Harry Potter had already alerted Albus Dumbledore to his presence. However, Voldemort, being incredibly well-informed in the ministry thanks to his well placed Death Eaters, knew that the Ministry was already denying this event. A minor wizard gunning for supremacy might have been annoyed that he wouldn't be able to take the throne wands-ablazin. Voldemort was no minor wizard. He fully intended to make use of his relative obscurity and work behind the scenes to get a foot hold in the world again before he decided to once again challenge Dumbledore, for that is where the true challenge lied.

He had already summoned all of his remaining, free, Death Eaters and intended to use them to start recruiting. He also intended to find out everything the prophecy concerning him and the Potter boy stated. But he had an equally important task in mind too. He had already sent a team of Death Eaters to the States to wipe out the annoying Jerry Russo. Russo had been instrumental in raising an anti-Voldemort movement in what would have been otherwise a very supportive country. With England denying his very existence, nobody would look too closely at a murder in America.