Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.
Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

The Paradox of Change

Chapter 1; 'A grand entrance'

'There's something about that tunnel that leads to downtown. It's glorious at night. Just glorious. You start on one side of the mountain, and it's dark, and the radio is loud.

As you enter the tunnel, the wind gets sucked away, and you squint from the lights overhead. When you adjust to the lights, you can see the other side in the distance just as the sound of the radio fades because the waves just can't reach.

Then, you're in the middle of the tunnel, and everything becomes a calm dream. As you see the opening get closer, you just can't get there fast enough. And finally, just when you think you'll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you.

And the radio comes back even louder than you remember it. And the wind is waiting. And you fly out of the tunnel onto the bridge. And there it is. The city. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it. It really is a grand entrance.'

The day was calm and clear, the sky billowing soft white clouds across the sky as high, pleasant voices echoed throughout the grounds of Hogwarts. It was nearing May in the year of 1946, and schooling was just about to end for the students.

Some would continue on with their schooling, others would move on, finding jobs within the wizarding community. One former student in particular stood just inside the school's bridge, suitcase in hand, watching with a faintly fond expression as students both large and small passed him by.

It had been two years since he had last set foot inside the school, working for Borgin & Burkes, among other prominent peoples, as soon as he had graduated, top of his class. Inhaling the musty scent of the bridge one final time, Tom Riddle continued on into the castle, intending to once more apply for the position he had previously been denied.

He passed through the old corridors, stopping occasionally as several portraits halted him and assailed him with questions; why was he here? What was he doing? How could they help the Headmaster's favourite former student?

With each question, he shook his head, appearing to be pleased to be remembered by paintings of the deceased who rarely recalled anyone. He explained to them his purpose and thanked them for their concern and interest in his welfare. He then waved his farewells and proceeded on up further into the castle.

The stairs still swerved in the opposite directions of how he wanted them to move, Peeves still teased the caretaker mercilessly, and the castle still had the same, homey feel that it always did. It was nothing like Wool's, with those cold wood beams that scarcely held up the ceiling and those frozen, deadly winters…

His face ranged in emotions as his thoughts flitted through his mind, finally settling on one of mild contentment as he realized, not for the first time, that Hogwarts was home. A faint chuckle passed his lips as he came to the uppermost tower, standing in front of the large stone gargoyle. He hoped that the Baron had given him the correct password, "Good evening," he addressed, causing stoney eyes to move upwards to his face, "'Rogation'."

With a low rumble, he was permitted into Headmaster Dippet's office. As he stepped inside, it occurred to him how old the man truly was, though it was no surprise. Armando Dippet was around three hundred years old.

Standing by the Headmaster's side was Albus Dumbledore, his auburn hair just as long and whisping as it was two years prior.

Tom approached the desk with a smile on his face, taking his seat before the wide desk as the Headmaster spoke, "Well, Mr. Riddle, I must say you are persistent," the man stated, returning the smile with one of his own, his weathered voice still ringing clear, "I do remember you asking for this position before, and I had then told you to wait a few years for yourself to mature. I see that you took my advice to heart."

"Yes, Headmaster," he replied simply, not at all oblivious to the stares Dumbledore was giving him, "I explored my options as you requested, and I still find that the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts would please me best as a career."

Dippet nodded, his long grey hair brushing over the desk, "Indeed? And I presume you have some sort of resume or recommendations for me? You are not the only applicant, you understand."

"Of course, Headmaster," said Tom, pulling his thin, brown briefcase onto the desk and clicking it open, "You should find everything to be in order."

He watched with a guardedly nervous expression as the older wizard gingerly lifted page by page out of the case, adjusting the narrow glasses on his nose between intervals. Every few pages, the man would hum or his eyebrows would raise, but other than that, he gave no sign of being overly impressed.

Surely, thought Tom, he would be more than impressed by his advances in the short period he had been away. He had traveled to Albania, serving the Minister of Magic himself by conferencing with vampires. He'd examined ancient artifacts through Borgin & Burke's shop, helping Aurors determine which were potentially harmful to customers and locking those items away. He had been offered the position of Unmentionable, though he left that particular 'accomplishment' out of his resume.

The Minister himself had referred him for the position; how many other applicants could say the same? Moreover, he was well liked in the school, and was held in high regard by the Headmaster himself. He personally felt that he was more than qualified for the position.

"Well, Mr. Riddle," Dippet said at last, "Your application is most impressive, more so than most others. I think I may have to retract my statement from two years ago in light of such accomplishments. My dear boy, you never fail to impress, do you?"

Pride, thick and sweet, swelled within his chest. It was at that moment that he felt a short flash of rage which quickly squelched his pride; Dumbledore had leaned in close to the Headmaster and whispered in his ear, just loud enough for Tom to hear him, "Of course, Headmaster, while Tom is certainly qualified for the position in regards to his career standing, is he not still much too young for the responsibility?"

Tom felt the anger dissipate, however, when Dippet merely laughed at the notion, "Oh, Albus," he chuckled, flapping several of the papers as he spoke, "That may have been true, when Tom had just graduated from our school, but he has come quite far, even you must admit it. I feel that young Mr. Riddle will make a fine addition to our school as the Defense Professor."

He watched with nearly hungry eyes as the Headmaster pulled a series of old documents out of the desk and handed him a pen…

It was one of his more Slytherin traits, he supposed, as he instructed the house elves on where to place his belongings. Even as a child, manipulation had been the most powerful and subtle tool he had at his disposal.

Now at home in his new quarters within the castle, Tom Riddle sighed as he leaned back into the plush green chair, tossing his feet onto the ottoman, eyes closed and a smile on his face. Placed carefully on the table beside him was a tattered old journal.

The date was June 3rd, 1946. Tom Marvolo Riddle had been signed in as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

He was already fourty-five when he began teaching them. Albus Dumbledore had taken over for Armando Dippet as Headmaster. Tom Riddle was Head of House for Slytherin, had been teaching at Hogwarts for twenty-five years, and never had he seen a more unlikely pair blossom. James Potter and Lily Evans. The two who had seemed to hate each other from the very first moment they spoke.

It came as a surprise to him then, of course, when almost directly after graduation, the two were engaged. He would not have known at all if not for Horace Slughorn drunkenly inviting him to the wedding during a Yuletide celebration.

Two years later, rumour spread of their child being born, a detail to which he paid no true attention. Another year would pass before both James and Lily died, reportedly of unknown causes. Their bodies had been found in the countryside far from Seville, surprising to most as it was a location quite a ways from their home. More so when their child, Harry, had been found left alone in the family's house.

For all that people knew, the boy had been sent to a local orphanage, and eventually all thought of the poor child seemed to vanish from the news. 'Potter? Potter who?' seemed almost common in the months that passed, until not even a whisper of the sole Potter heir could be found.

Either way, Tom mused, it really had nothing at all to do with him… At least it wouldn't, not for another ten years…

A/N: I have waited a very long time to get posting again, and I hope you all enjoy.
I'll also be picking up my other stories very soon. I will also be working on editing existing chapters to flesh them out further and make them longer, this one included.
There's much to do, lovelies!