Harry wakes, aged nineteen and war-weary, four hundred years in the past, to a world tore down by a french warlock called Turin. At first, he is determined to bide his time and rid the world of Lord Voldemort for good .. but finds himself, when the time comes, unexpectedly, raising a surprisingly endearing Tom Riddle.

Not your usual Harry raises young Tom fiction.

I do not own Harry Potter.

The day was grey and bitter.

Albus Dumbledore stood before his once lover, eyes moist. There, he thought, it is finally over.

Then why was it that he felt as if it had just begun? Ought he not, after all these dreadful years, feel at peace, feel free?

Yet Grindelwald's bloodied face, his dull mismatched eyes, his thinned lips held no comfort for him. The man was as good as dead. The wand no longer obeyed him, his army was scattered and hunted down .. He was finished, and, dare he say it, heart broken.

Was it that, his prize? Gellert sent him one last look, chained and caged, looking more animal than human. One last glance, a tearful one, full of unsaid words and wishes, but it was the murmured words that froze Albus where he stood.

I love you, he whispered, and then he was gone, away with Albus' hopes and dreams.

Goodbye, my love, thought Albus, and then, he knew no more.

"Allow me," said a voice. It was pleasant, ironical, quiet too.

Dumbledore stared. The boy - looking younger than he by decades - seemed at ease standing before him. Him, the man who had just battled Grindelwald and was alive to tell the tale. Without waiting for a response, though Albus wondered what did he have to allow, the man pulled the door shut with a click of his hand, set the chair behind the desk and took a seat.

He raised his eyebrows. Impressive magic work... for one so young.

He flashed him a grin, his eyes settling on Albus.

When Albus finally spoke, he realized he hadn't done so in hours. "Yes?" He said, ignoring how his voice came out like a croak.

"I am sorry for you loss."

"My loss?" asked Albus, astounded. The Unspeakable, for there was little doubt concerning his true profession, smiled, only this time, it was a sad one, an understanding one.

Could it be, he thought, that this man - a little much more than a boy - could understand his pain .. ?

Then he saw his fingers, and saw the rings that orned two of them. One was a sigil that Albus had never seen before, a griffin, tall and proud and black. And the other, why ..

"Flamel?" he sputtered out, blinking at the golden eagle, "can it be .."

".. My name, sir, is Hadrian Peverell. At your service."

Dumbledore waved his hand, an expression of reverence taking hold of his face. "There is no need to call me that. If anything, I should .."

Lord Peverell smiled again. He was remarkably good-looking, face pale and features cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a shock of dark hair he kept unkempt. Dumbledore was uneasily reminded of Tom Riddle, for this man shared similarities with his once student .. The easy grace was one of them, the charming personna another ..

"Please, call me Hadrian. Or Harry. From what Nick tells me, we're practically family."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. You're as much his pupil as I am, perhaps even more .. After all, he and I are closer in age .. Compared to us, you're but a baby.."

It was disconcerting, knowing that this man, who looked nineteen and acted thirty, had lived four centuries and was probably even older than that.

"He sent me," he continued, voice surprinsingly soft. "Needed me to check on you. See for myself that you're okay."

"How .."

Lord Peverell laughed. "Child play. Mind controlled the lot of them. They think me a qualified auror, you see. You'll be off with no repercussions, not that you deserve it.. You just saved the world from big, bad, evil Grindelwald, after all."

Albus sobered. Hadrian Peverell took a long look at him, then said, dark eyes compassionate, "it is okay, you know, to weep."

"You said so yourself. Big, bad, evil Grindelwald .. He got what he deserved, in the end."

Not even a flicker of change passed over the man's expression. "What do you feel, Albus?"

That is no business of yours, he thought savagely, but there was something about the calming aura that surrounded them .. Something about the way the man stared at him ..

"I loved him."

Lord Peverell remained silent for several seconds before he responded, "I know you did."

"Fighting him broke my heart."

It felt good to let such words flow out of him.

"I was afraid it would."

Hadrian Peverell paused and studied Albus before continuing, "do you regret it?"

Albus felt he was going to explode .. the anger, the guilt .. they tore at his heart in the most horrifying way possible. "Yes," he said, forcing a calmness into his voice, "I do. I might have helped him. I might have stopped him .. but they gave me no chance .. He gave me none."

Peverell had been staring at Albus with blank eyes throughout his rant.

A chill cut through the heat of his rage."Yet," he swallowed. "Yet, it was all I could do. He was killing innocents, you see .. he brought not peace, but war and chaos wherever he went .. I could not let it pass. No more."

His chest lurched with heavy breaths. He realized he was crying only when the lord - the highest lord there was - rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You have been through a lot, my boy ... Dear child, feel no pain, feel no guilt, it is no fault of yours."

Albus felt a sudden weariness, as if all the strength had seeped out of him, leaving him with nothing. "It is-"

"Listen to me," Hadrian pressed, "do not lose yourself .. Hold on, child. Life is bright, and brighter still, though you may not see it. You loved, and were loved in return, but it is not the end. Cherish this love, let it grow, let it be free.. Let yourself be that .. You need not to feel ashamed .. You are alive, Albus Dumbledore, be thankful for that, and make the best out of it."

Make the best out of it ..

Make the best .. Albus opened his eyes. He was no longer the thirty-five years old man he had been when he met the eligible Lord of Peverell. He stood in his seat, in the Great Hall, staring at hundred of faces and memorizing each.

Then he met a pair of bright green eyes tucked behind rounded glasses and a scar-free face, and smiled encouragingly at the wonder struck expression and the nervous look the first year Slytherin was throwing him.

"Welcome," he said, his arms wide open. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"