What if Dumbledore did give the young Voldemort the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts? What might have changed?
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"Tom, why do you want to do this? I will not allow you to recruit followers in my school." said Dumbledore, auburn hair and beard going grey around the edges and looking weary.
Tom, a man in his late twenties, had death-pale skin and a red gleam in forest green eyes. "I want to prepare the students. I want to make sure they know what I didn't and I want them to see what I paid for what I did because of that lack. Professor, I know I can do this."
Dumbledore looks at Tom sternly over half-moon glasses. "I've no doubt that you can, Tom. But you must realize the enormous trust I'll have to place on you. There is the problem of your Voldemort persona."
Tom shakes his head violently. "I'll do whatever it takes, Professor Dumbledore. Even get rid of that. I never wanted to kill people; it was my survival that I wanted. Survival in that hell-hole meant being better and giving pain to those who fought against you."
Dumbledore frowns at him. "Of that, I have no doubt, Tom. But I know about your Father and your Grandparents."
Tom flushes guiltily. "All I could think about then was revenge. The thought that his casting my mother out was what caused her death kept going through my mind. The Black magic that I'd already performed went with my growing hate and took me over. It wasn't until later that I realized it was no ones fault but Death's. But, if I'm the DADA professor, I can try and prevent that sort of thing from happening again!"
Dumbledore closes his eyes and frowns, thinking heavily. Finally, after long moments, Dumbledore opens those piercing blue eyes of his and sighs, "I will take you on, on one condition: you will not practice the Dark Arts unless I am present."
The red tinge in Tom's eyes gleams in anticipation. "I accept your terms, Professor."
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Fifty years into the future
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A young boy named Harry James Potter kissed his mother, father, and little siblings goodbye on the train platform.
His mother, Lily Potter, wiped away a tear that threatened to escape her emerald eyes. "Bye, Harry, be careful!"
Harry's father, James Potter, rolls his eyes behind his wife's back. "Be a good Marauder, Harry! Try not to let Professor Riddle catch you!" Lily scowls at him and smacks him upside the head. "Ow! What was that for!"
"Don't put ideas in my son's head!"
Meanwhile, Harry's little brother and sisters gather round him. The oldest, a girl by the name of Calla, mischievously hides something behind her back.
"Well, Harry-poo, we decided…"
"That since we weren't going to see you for a long time…" continued Michael, the second-oldest.
"We would get you an owl so that you can send us Howlers whenever Calla and Michael have misbehaved." finished Rosa, the youngest. Calla pulls a beautiful white owl out and hands her to Harry. The train blows its whistle and Harry hustle aboard it.
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At Hogwarts, Tom Riddle sees the last vestiges of the possible future close as one young boy is instantly sorted into Gryffindor. He thanked the gods for the glimpse of what could have happened if he was not the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
'No one should have a childhood like that, at least at the orphanage, they were not family and had no obligation to care.'
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Je le fini!
This is a one-shot that I thought up. For everyone who's read 'Philomel's Lullaby' no, I've not abandoned it. In fact, it should be up again quite soon. I just had to write this.