A/N: I needed to write, and this is what I came up with. Two-chaptered oneshot. Just because I felt it needed a bit of a break in the middle there.
I'm not new to , but I am new to posting my work here. Just to let you all know, I like some pretty obscure slash pairings, so if you do too, let me know, I always like to meet people who have the same strange taste as me.
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Shock wasn't a usual expression for Tom.
Normally, he was calm and collected. He was the Dark Lord, nothing but pleasure, anger, satisfaction, and pride crossed his features, if anything at all. But the expression on his face was clearly shock this evening.
"Potter?" This evening he opened the door to his house in Little Hangleton, the one he had recently renovated with heavy help from magic, only to see one Harry Potter sitting outside it. He hadn't knocked, but somehow he'd known something was outside of his house this evening. How right he was.
"Hey, Tom." The boy just stared at the setting sun with seeming disinterest. It was so peculiar that he couldn't dredge up the usual rage at seeing the boy who had caused all of his problems as of late.
"Nice house. Shitty town though." He couldn't think of anything to respond to that. What was going on? Why was Potter here? How did he find him? Why weren't they arguing, fighting, cursing each other? Why did his presence not enrage him? Why on earth wasn't he wearing glasses?
Wait, what?
"You're speechless. Let me take advantage of the rare moment and tell you what I've discovered." The boy stood up and looked him in the eye. Had he grown?
"I happen to have access to a remarkable artefact, the most powerful invisibility cloak. With a couple spells I was able to ensure that it was undetectable to any and all magic. It's good for sneaking around, spying." Tom's first thought was that he'd been spying on him, on his death eaters, but he didn't speak, the strangeness of it all hadn't worn off.
"Yeah, Dumbledore says some pretty interesting things when he's alone. He talks to his phoenix like small girls talk to their diaries. Apparently he's told a lot of lies, to me and to you." He held a sphere in his hands, a prophesy if he wasn't mistaken. "You know of this prophesy." He let it drop. It smashed on the ground, and a whispery voice told the full prophesy, the one he's only heard part of so long ago. His eyes widened as he heard just what it contained. Before he could get angry or kill the boy, he'd begun speaking again. "It's a fake. Powerful magic replicated a real one, but it's fake."
The boy paused, the smoke dissipated.
"My parents weren't Lily and James Potter. My parents were Elven thieves. Dumbledore stole me when I was born, imprisoned my real parents and left them to die, and placed me with the Potter's and thought up this elaborate plan to destroy you, knowing that the killing curse wouldn't work normally on my kind. He expected us both to die that night. When I didn't die, he kept me, in case the worst should happen, like you returning. When you did, he had me fight you.
"What I'm getting at, is that we were both lied to. And I believe in the old saying that 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', so Tom, I'd like to join you."