Harry Potter was the golden child, a savior, the chosen one. It was ingrained in his DNA to be afraid of his prophesized enemy.
It was defense against the dark arts class. Boggarts were on the lesson plan. 5th year was a little late to learn of Boggarts and such things of fear. It was on the curriculum for measly third years. But, from the ever shifting roulette of DADA teachers, this specific lesson had been pushed back for Harry's class year.
With a mixture of grunts and ill concealed terror, the gryffs and Slytherins lined up.
There was a fair share of monsters, some ghouls, a family member or two.
"Mr. Potter, I believe you are next." Moody grimaced at him from his stance as gatekeeper for the boggart. Harry smiled back, just a quick upturn of lips-before he steadied himself.
He didn't know what exactly he would be facing, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.
Moody became serious as he opened the cupboard door once more. At first, nothing came out. The lights in the room became to dim, and the air suddenly got colder. Harry shivered-naught from cold, but from anticipation. His heart was racing and for a wild, hopeful moment he was certain a dementor would appear.
No dementor appeared-something, far, far worse.
A sibilant hiss rang clear through the classroom, creating barrier of silence. Harry stared into the abyss of the cupboard…. And the abyss stared back.
A pale, bare foot stepped forth from the shadows, bringing with it a black clad, terrifying, man. Lord Voldemort stepped forth from the cupboard, all the while creating a high hiss from the depths of his throat. Harry froze at the sight, he zeroed in on his prophesied enemy and the world fell away.
"Harry Potter," Lord Voldemort spoke in a high, dangerous voice. Mirth gleaming in his red, red eyes. "It seems that I am your greatest fear, how… quaint." Lord Voldemort began to move, while everyone else-including Harry-stayed frozen in equal parts fear and mesmerisation. His slow, precise movement caused harry to swallow, his throat clicking from the sudden dryness. Just as Lord Voldemort motioned to speak again, Professor Moody shouted out.
"Ridikkulus!" He spit the word as if it were the killing curse. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild. The hex did nothing.
Time crystallized in that moment, freezing all who were in the presence of the Dark Lord.
"Ah, ah, ah, now Alastor… That wasn't very polite," Voldemort stopped his gliding steps in front of Harry Potter. He stooped low, to make eye contact, but was careful not to touch. He tilted his serpentine head to the side and looked directly into the eyes of his prophesied enemy.
"Besides," He all but whispered, "I am not what you truly fear, is it?" Voldemort stood and turned abruptly. "Well, not this version of me anyway." The sadistic mirth in his voice turned into a high, dark laugh. The sounds dimmed the lights even further, bringing even more chill into the classroom. Students stood petrified in fear.
Wind picked up in the classroom, rustling loose sheets of parchment, carelessly billowing students robes. The dark lord's laughter increased in volume and the wind picked up in speed. Soon enough a whirlwind encircled Voldemort and drowned even drowned out his unholy laughter. Candles blew out, students hair whipped about, only all to come to a complete standstill. The room was shrouded in darkness.
"I am who you truly fear." Gone was the high and cruel voice from earlier, in it's place was a deep and smooth baritone.
Footsteps echoed across the floor. One, two-three clicks of well polished shoes.
As the candles slowly came back to light, flickering uneasily at the danger in the room. There, stood a teen-aged Tom Marvolo Riddle in front of a pale, thunderstruck Harry James Potter.
There, in front of all of the Defense against the dark arts students, and professor Moody; Tom Riddle took one of Harry's shaking hands in his own and swooped low to place a kiss onto his knuckles.
"It is a pleasure to finally see you again… Harry." He smirked.
And with that, Harry James Potter, Gryffindor golden boy, savior of the wizarding world, chosen one, fainted.