Chapter 1

Muggles… disgusting creatures. They are nothing more than over-developed apes. After all, the great scientist and wizard, Darwin, had made this discovery decades ago. The human race were cousins to that of the common chimp. But then, what are wizards and witches? Our kind is certainly far more developed than that of Muggles. I would never place us in the same category. I say we are their superiors, what they will evolve into. Like a Neanderthal has similarities to a homosapien, they are still quite different. It is the same with wizards and Muggles, similar but very much different. It's rather disgusting how Hogwarts lets these... underdeveloped beings, in our doors. Many of the old and prestigious families, the blood traitors, will intermingle and breed. Thus, the disgusting muggle gene starts to eat away our perfect race.
I believe in Salazar Slytherin's teachings. One famous quote I practically devote my life to is "Let be the ambitious and pure reign. Let there be vengeance on those who are deemed unworthy of attendance." Clearly, he was a wise man.
~Tom Riddle
March 14, 1942

Tom slipped his diary away, its thin built was perfect for stashing in a small wedge between the boards of his desk. Not that he was worried about anyone stumbling upon it. Even if they did, they would have to get past his well-built wards he had cast on its black cover. The instant the offender tried to open its cover they would be turned into a toad. No matter how many times the offender tried he would always be transfigured into a toad for five minutes. Only Tom knew the password to the diary and planned on keeping it that way.

He realized that many of his fellow Slytherins shared his view, but they all knew a terrible secret about Tom. They knew he was a half blood or less. The boy might as well have been muggleborn from the disdain he received from his peers. It at times kept Tom up at night pondering, who was the bastard who carried his muggle last name? Riddle, it wasn't a common name, but it was defiantly a muggle one. He preferred his middle one, Marvolo. There was pureblooded Slytherins in the sixth year with that name. Though he hardly thought they had any relation. It was his only link to the fact that he wasn't just some muggle who decided to evolve.

No matter, he planned on greatness. He did not need the help from the pampered and rich, even if they were of the ideal blood. Life of a loner was not as terrible as one would think. In fact, it only took a little imagination and magic to amuse Tom. He spent many of his days reading and imagining what he could do with a small manipulation of a pronunciation or the flick of his wand. In fact, Tom was quite sure that he was the only wizard who could make many impossible things happen. Earlier this year, he did not attend the Yule ball. Even though he was now a fourth year and could by all rights go commune with his fellows, he did not. Instead, he climbed the stairs to the fourth year bunks to make a very amusing backdrop. He transfigured the stools and desks of his fellow classmates into lovely women he had seen in Hogwarts portraits. He made everything icy, with sculptures of Greek goddess' for his creations to flutter about. He felt like a god. An outsider would see him as a lonely soul, but Tom did not see this in himself.

Loneliness was common to the boy by now. It was rather a companion than a hindrance. It made his slate free for all the possibilities that the world could lay out in front of him. Tom needed no one.

"My own master," he whispered to himself, the idea was a comfort. Even as he climbed into bed, he did not feel the sting or the burn that any normal human being would feel as a result of being lonely. But then again, wizards were not human beings in Tom's eyes.
It should have been another ordinary day full of dull repetitive conversations with his fellow Slytherins and full of classes that held the highlights of his day. But instead, something extraordinarily auspicious happened that morning, three new students arrived. The Great Hall was full of commotion with students fluttering here and there as they intermingled with each other, whether they were in the same house or not. Many were asking, "Are they your relatives?" The new students just shook their heads. It was clear no one knew who they were. And certainly, this never happened in the history of Hogwarts. Having three new students transfer at the end of the year was simply unheard of. If you were to transfer, you must wait and join at the beginning of the year. They were the rules. Tom was sure of this. One of the first things Tom Riddle read once he got to Hogwarts his first year was a staffing book on all of the rules and regulations.
Yet, there they were, standing by the head table while Professor Dumbledore talked lively with the three soon to be students. Two were obviously siblings, both red haired and freckled, the other looked nothing alike the other two. So, Tom made the decision she was not related. The female had brown and bushy hair with more of a complexion. Her facial features were kinder than the red haired female. Her face was round and warm looking with a smile that just about screamed, "Like me." The red head had sharp features that reminded him of the Malfoys.

Without dropping visual contact with the trio, Tom sat next to Alphard Black, the only Slytherin his year that tolerated his dirty blood. He was at the time shoving a piece of toast almost wholly in his mouth. He chomped down leaving just a corner of toast in his fingers before gingerly tossing the little bit into mouth.

"Has anyone told you that your way of eating is not easy for the stomach to digest?" Tom inquired of his semi-friend.

"Is it your stomach or mine that we are talking about, Riddle?" he lazily inquired. He then decided to tank a whole pitcher of orange juice, not caring as some splashed out to drip onto his clothes. Tom lost his apatite once the boy smacked his lips. "So, it seems we have guests."

"Guests. Black, I always knew your brain was numb," Dracius Malfoy, the youngest brother of the Malfoy brothers, spoke. "I'm sure it's even clear to Andrea Goyle to figure out they are not merely 'guests'." Malfoy spent most of his time waiting to attack the boy but Black never paid much mind to him. Alphard even let out a belch so loud that over the commotion the Hufflepuffs across the room cringed. It was a perfect retort as Malfoy scooted further down the line so he didn't have to smell the stench.

At that moment, Dippet shot a spell into the air commanding a huge thunderous "Silence!" The hall fell quiet. "As you all know and have discussed, it is quite clear we have some new students. Professor," he ended the boom of his voice as Dumbledore conjured a stool and the sorting hat. The room then remained dead silent.

"Ronald Weasley."

The tall red headed boy was the first to sit down. Tom looked closely at him and realized that his robes were just as good a shape as his, if not worse. Even from his seat, he could see that it was grayed from years of washing. He saw his Transfiguration professor sit the old worn hat on the boy's head. The thing said the usual mutters that it always said to its user. "Gryffindor!" it shouted as the whole crimson clad table applauded ravenously, a few even stood on the tabletops. Dippet had to shout for them to calm down. A few were subjected to detention even.

"Ginevra Weasley," Dumbledore's voice once again called out.

The sister, it would seem, was next. She sat rather elegantly, crossing her heels and sitting straight as Dumbledore also placed the hat on her head. He saw the hat frown and contort itself as if it were shaking its head before it bellowed, "Slytherin!" His house didn't share the same feelings as Gryffindor. They were all in shock. A Weasley, in Slytherin? The last time that happened was.. never! Tom was sure he heard the Malfoy's in every year sputter, huff, and choke. She took an empty slot next to Tom, the borderline between the fourth years and the third years.

Alphard leaned across the table so his head was almost skimming the top of the food. "Are you a fourth or third year, miss?"

She looked at him with piercing eyes to state, "Third."

"Bummer," he replied. "I'm a fourth year." He tried to entice her into a conversation.

"Alphard, shut it," Malfoy hissed.

"Hermione Granger!" Dumbledore called the last one to the stool. For the last time, the sorting hat was placed upon someone's head.

"Dirty blood," Malfoy started to Tom. His gray eyes met Tom's. "I think we may have found a candidate for a girlfriend for you, Riddle."

He took one moment to look at him, and then turned his face back to the new girl. The hat seemed to be having a deep conversation with her, something it rarely did. But it nonetheless bellowed, "Gryffindor!" and once again that table went into complete chaos and roars.

"This is bloody insane!" Ron spoke to Hermione, whispering softly in her ear. "My sister is in Slytherin and is sitting next to him no less."

Hermione looked across the Gryffindor table to the Slytherins where Ginny had her arms crossed trying to ignore a shaggy dark haired wizard who was trying to entice her into a conversation. Next to her was, indeed, Tom Riddle, who laughed lightly and smiled even more politely to the bigger than life personality. He almost seemed normal. The only photo she had seen of the young Riddle was one of him his seventh year. Riddle had yet to achieve his devilish good looks that made many of the women of his day swoon. Instead, he had chubby cheeks from boyhood, average height, and too long limbs to match the body. The one thing that made it very clear he was indeed Tom Riddle was his dress, prim to the last strand of hair to the shine on his shoes.

"Who is that bloke whose hitting on my sister anyway?" Ron asked burly, his body ready to pounce and kill the shaggy boy.

"I..." Hermione thought for a moment of all the pictures of every student she studied before making the time trip. "He is one of the Blacks is all I can agree on," she concluded. Ron began to scoot out of his chair before Hermione yanked him back into his spot. "Oh no you don't!" she commanded as he sat his bum back on the bench. "Stop paying attention to him. The one you need to keep your eye on is sitting across from him."

His teeth were clenched as he muttered, "Volde-"

Hermione elbowed him. "Don't say his name." Hermione's voice was full of seriousness. It wasn't the fact she was afraid of his name it was just the fact that no one in this time even knew Tom Riddle's alternative name. Tom maybe even didn't even know it.

"Right, Riddle." Ron didn't seem to care on that matter of secrecy. "Did you get your new schedule?" he asked to change the subject. His mood changed from hostile to boredom in a flash.

She nodded solemnly. "All classes with you-know-who."

Ron half smirked. "I think it should be a rule not to use that term either."

Hermione tried to smile, but she was rather tired of trying to act cheerful all the time. "I'll miss him," she stated as she thought about the missing trio member.

Ron's smile dissipated. "I'll miss Harry, too."

"Did we make the right move? Dumbledore didn't want us to take this path. I mean, we will be fine, we will succeed right?" she stuttered, loosing her wits every time she saw Tom Riddle's face look in her direction.

"You're brilliant. We'll make this work." Ron softly spoke, putting his arm around her.

"God, I hope so. If not, we're forever stuck in this time."