Disclaimer: If I owned Tom Riddle…

…I would be a happy, happy person. But alas, I don't. ( All characters and spells/curses/everything besides this plot are owned by the talented J.K Rowling.

(A/N: Harry Potter Lexicon is my one-stop reference source for spells, characters, and other random informational tidbits. This site is so thorough it's almost scary!)

Please take a couple of minutes to review! I honestly don't have a definite idea where I'm going with this, and feedback would be mucho appreciated:)

Reunited (prologue)

The night was pitch black, and only the occasional flashes of lightning colored the deep night. Inside the Malfoy Manor, a lone figure lounged in an armchair, watching the glowing embers of the dying fire in the fireplace. With a Daily Prophet laid across his lap, the figure frowned at the headline boasting "WEDDING OF THE CENTURY," which took up most of the front page. His frown deepened as he read the article, outlining in excruciating details the marriage of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

It came no surprise to him that the media would be all over the Weasley/Potter union, as a dog would salivate over a piece of steak. Lauded as the hope of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived's popularity have only increased after defeating Voldemort five months ago. After the war, both Harry and Ginny have then devoted themselves to repair the ravages and destructions of the war. The masses loved and adored the Boy-Who-Lived and his feisty and loyal girlfriend, and they hope that this "wedding of the century" would ensure a happy and bright future for everyone.

Infuriated by the picture of the smiling couple, he threw down the paper and muttered an incendio spell, and watched in twisted satisfaction as the paper burst into flames. He tried to calm himself, telling himself that all this media attention on the wedding was good, as it took attention away from him and his own plans. Nonetheless, he couldn't still the burning rage that was bubbling inside of him.

A soft knock interrupted his musings, and the mahogany door opened slightly as Lucius Malfoy quietly slipped into the library. "Pardon me for the intrusion, but everything has been executed according to your orders, my lord." The tall and regal blond-haired man reported as he knelt before the seated figure.

"Well done, Lucius. Gather everyone and prepare to leave by 7am. We must be quick, swift and efficient in our plan. See that you do not fail me." Lucius couldn't help but look up slightly at the chilling and ominous last sentence. The waning light of the fire did nothing to soften the intensity of his lord's eyes, which were glowing red in a dangerous way. Lucius could only nod in agreement, and scampered quickly out the room. When the door shut behind him, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. Though his new lord was more handsome than his old lord was, he had the same frightening red eyes, and a quiet intensity that set Lucius' nerves at end. Gathering his wits once again, Lucius strode purposefully down the hall to finalize preparations for tomorrow's attack.

Back in the library, Tom Riddle laughed quietly at the fear that emanated from his follower. This is exactly what he desired – dominating weaker beings and bending them to his biddings. Absolute, total, complete control. Soon, very soon, the first step in his plans would commence. Riddle was almost beside himself with anticipation. He was tired of hiding in the shadows. It was now time for him to make his grand entrance, and make his powers known. His older self was a narrow-minded and weak fool, and he deserved to die at the hand of that Potter brat. If he couldn't kill him when he was a baby, he reasoned, what made him think he would be any match for him 18 years later? But he will not make the same mistake of underestimating his enemy. He was like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of his former self – only to be stronger and better than before. He would make sure that the world would know the immense power of Tom Riddle. Starting with The-Boy-Who-Lived. It's only appropriate Potter, since you have something of mine, he thought to himself.

Yes, he smiled cruelly as he closed his eyes. They wanted the wedding of the century, and that was exactly what they would be getting.