Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.


General Warnings: Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters


Summary: Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equaled survival, and weakness equaled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle


Previous chapter:

Tom smiled, small but for once genuine as he picked up the small snake, and let it curl around his throat. He was in no danger after all. Snakes would never dare harm him and if any tried, his magic would protect him and eradicate the threat.

''Well done, tell me, my dear one how to reach my destination.''

Tom smirked wickedly, as plans began to form inside his brilliant mind. Everything would start on his eleventh birthday and he couldn't suppress his eagerness anymore.

This time, Tom Riddle would be victorious.

Failure was no option, no matter what he had to do in order to achieve his goals.


Chapter 2: Professor Dumbledore


Albus Dumbledore, transfiguration professor of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry fingered the pale envelope containing one acceptance letter for a certain Tom M. Riddle pensively.

He couldn't help but pity the Muggle-born children living in those run-down and often dingy orphanages, small and weak due to the lack of enough nourishment. Times were hard and often enough those children accepted immediately upon the admittance that the school served three full meals per day.

Walking down the empty street, Albus discreetly added another heating charm to his dark muggle coat, trying to counter the biting wind. This year's January was harsh, but devoid of any snow which Albus sorely missed. Seeing the excitement on the student's faces whenever the powdery white substance stayed on the frozen ground was always a rare treat.

The transfiguration professor curiously approached the St. Wool's orphanage, noting the dirty outer appearance and cracks in the walls.

He knocked firmly on the wooden door, a small smile lightening up his aging face, as he listened to the approaching footsteps.

The door opened with a resounding crackling noise, light spilling outside as the face of an older woman greeted Albus Dumbledore, a curious expression on her weathered face.

''Good morning. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Like previously discussed, I'm here to offer a place at a school for exceptionally gifted children to one Tom Riddle.''

Dumbledore was a little startled at the small proud smile which soon overtook the matron's face.

''For Tom, truly? Good Lord, there is not a single boy I know who would deserve it more. Please do come in, Mr. Dumbledore.''

Albus entered the dark building swiftly, a little surprised at the welcoming manner with which the matron had greeted him with. She seemed quite taken with this young boy.

''Then it is fortunate that he shall receive it.'' Albus agreed amiably, following the elderly muggle woman into the living are, their footsteps interrupting the previous silence. ''Tom is a good lad then?''

The matron nodded, seemingly lost in pleasant memories for a moment, before she turned back towards him. ''Tom has always been special; he's very mature for his age, and often helps me with the other children. Such a polite boy. I'm so happy that he finally gets a a chance to prove himself.''

Inwardly Albus Dumbledore was now rather anxious to meet this boy. He always loved telling the young new students about the world of magic, especially when he knew the children would receive a chance for a better life. He continued to listen to the small tibits the matron shared about this Tom Riddle; how he protected the other students, always eager and ready to help.

''...Tom was born just as the year ended. Truly a blessing.''

Albus's eyebrows vanished below his hairline as he contemplated the last information given to him casually. While Samhain was the night where the change between dark and light alignments happened, the New Year was at least equally as important when talking about ambient magic. It was said that more than two thousand years ago, a powerful warlord had calculated the rise of ambient magic during that particular day and had decided to name it the bridge between the old and new year. It had eventually caught on only a decade later, and was since then celebrated as such.

For a boy to be born on the crux of such an important magical day spoke more than well for the boy's magical potential.

''Tom's room is upstairs, Mr. Dumbledore.''

The Wizard nodded quickly, following the woman up the creaking wooden stairs towards one of the several doors. The matron - and Albus really should have enquired her name - knocked three-times in quick succession before opening the door, a fond smile playing on her lips.

''Tom, there is a Mr. Dumbledore here to meet you. He wants to offer you a place at a school for special students.''

There was a beat of silence before Albus could hear a young but melodious voice answer. ''Thank you, Mrs. Cole. Should I come out?''

Before the matron could answer, Albus smoothly inserted himself into the conversation, stepping behind the matron to take his first peek at his new student. ''No need, Mr. Riddle. May I enter your room?''

Tom Riddle, Albus privately thought was a very beautiful child, especially with that wide-eyed look of childish innocence and curiosity lightening up those normally dark eyes.

''Of course you may, Mr. Dumbledore. Please come in and take a seat.'' Tom Riddle motioned towards the wooden chair and table set, fidgeting slightly as Albus regarded him curiously.

Albus noticed out of the corner of his eye as Mrs. Cole closed the door, throwing one last supportive smile at the lad sitting on his crisply made bed.

A rather rare sight for one so young.

''Well then, Mr. Riddle. Has anything strange ever happened to you?''

-{1}-

''... anything strange ever happened to you?''

Tom Riddle could scarcely believe that this day had finally come. Months and years of preparation just for this very conversation - the first meeting with Albus Dumbledore. The Wizard looked younger than he had imagined; hair still auburn with only the faintest signs of greying. Checking inconspicuously that his magic merely projected a slight feeling of content happiness, Tom reminded himself not to look into the man's eyes for more than a moment, while concentrating firmly on his mask.

He made sure to project a small hesitant amount of confusion onto his face at the unexpected - for any but him - question. ''What do you mean by strange things, sir?''

''Well, my boy. Something strange that you could not explain, a floating object for example.'' Albus Dumbledore explained kindly, an actual twinkle in his blue eyes.

Tom's eyes widened with faked surprise, and he seemed to fidget nervously. Really he was so proud of himself. ''Well...'' He made sure to sound as hesitant as possible, as if entrusting a heavy secret to the older professor. ''Sometimes... sometimes when I really want something, it happens. When I wanted to protect little Claire I was able to make it so that the man didn't seem to notice us any longer, and then there are smaller things.''

Tom made sure to raise his bowed head, frowning as if trying to remember such instances. ''One times I couldn't reach this book and it just flew out of its place on the shelf and sometimes when my clothes are too worn-out I can fix them and make them seem clean again.''

He blushed, as if embarrassed by his rambling, and looked at Dumbledore anxiously. He hoped by mentioning both protecting other people, and transfiguration that Dumbledore would regard him favourably enough that his placement in Slytherin would not make him suspicious.

''Yes, Tom. Those are very good examples. Very advanced accidental magic as well.'' Dumbledore praised and Tom made sure his blush was even more prominent, though he projected the appropriate amount of shook at the word magic.

''Magic, sir? Do...do you mean that it actually exists... I mean...'' He floundered slightly, disbelief evident in both his expression and body language.

''Yes, shall I prove it to you, Tom?'' Dumbledore chuckled amusedly, pulling out his wand in one fluid motion, before a single flick caused a beautiful blue fire to appear between them. The flickering flame merely seemed to hover innocently in front of Tom, beckoning him closer.

''Does...I mean... would it burn me if I...'' Tom stuttered, not even having to fake his excitement. Soon he would be able to do that as well, that and so much more.

''It would, Tom. While it is beautiful, it is still a flame. Magic can be used for both good and bad. Please remember that, alright?'' Dumbledore vanished the conjured flame, before handing him a pale envelope.

His Hogwarts letter.

Tom eagerly tore open the letter, reading though it in record time before smiling childishly at the professor who was observing him with a small fond smile. Inwardly Tom cackled victoriously - for now Dumbledore seemed to like him, and he was planning on endearing himself even further to the transfiguration professor during their trip to Diagon Alley.

''I... I don't have any money. Can I still come?'' He peered doubtfully at Dumbledore, allowing his excitement to fade as all the implications seemed to occur to him.

''Of course.'' Dumbledore assured the downtrodden boy. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if such a talented student could not reach his full potential just because he lacked money. ''Hogwarts has a fund for students like you. If you have time tomorrow, we could purchase your material at Diagon Alley and I could answer any other question that might crop up.''

''Thank you, sir.'' Tom smiled eagerly, making sure his magic reflected his excitement just in case Dumbledore was looking for any inconsistencies. One could never be too careful after all. ''I can't wait until tomorrow then.''

''Me too, my boy. Me too.'' Dumbledore smiled gently, while Tom noted his new address with a jolt of pleasure - his plan had worked - and disgust - because he was not anyone's boy, especially not Dumbledore's.

Tom Riddle was sure that tonight he would be able to rest extremely well.

His first meeting with Dumbledore could not have gone any better – and he would ensure that tomorrow would be no different.

-{2}-

Albus Dumbledore returned the next morning, shortly after the clock struck ten. Tom had made sure to wear his best clothes, actually looking relatively well-dressed due to his liberal use of magic – or as well-dressed as an orphan could possibly be during the 1930s.

Tom barely hesitated before grabbing Dumbledore's arm once they were out of sight of the orphanage, mentally preparing himself for the following apparition. It would not do for him to land sprawled on the ground, and look like a fool. Appearances were important, and Tom would milk this opportunity for all it was worth.

Apparation was a disconcerting experience – it was actually comparable to being compressed and pulled through a narrow tube, a slight spin ensuring even more difficulties. However Tom regained his bearings in the fraction of a second that it took for them to cross the whole London, managing to land on his feet with only the slightest hint of disorientation.

Letting go of Dumbledore's arm with an expertly faked confused expression, Tom looked around the small alley they had arrived in. As far as he could tell, they were behind the Leaky Cauldron – and Tom had to suppress the urge to sneer. For one of the main entrances to Diagon Alley to look so run-down was in his opinion blasphemy towards Magic.

''Where are we, Professor?'' Tom questioned cautiously, ''…and how did we get here? Was that like instant transportation?''

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily, ''Well, my boy. Full of questions aren't you? No matter, we are behind the Leaky Cauldron , the entrance from the muggle – non-magical – world, and what I did was indeed very similar to what you called instant transportation. It's called Apparation and you can learn it once you're seventeen years old.''

''I see. Thank you, sir.'' Tom followed Dumbledore as the old man walked towards the brick wall at the end of the small alley, watching as the older wizard tapped several bricks with the tip of his wand. Tom suspected that it was indeed not the wand, but the magic inside of it that caused the next cause of action. Regardless of the fact that he had actually seen it in a movie once, it was still awe-inspiring how the bricks moved into a large arch – allowing both wizards entry.

Tom couldn't contain the thrill shooting through his body, his magic singing in true joy as he beheld the world where he belonged for the first time. Diagon Alley, though rather empty due to the harsh cold, was still filled with several witches and wizards buzzing around the street, doing their business on this January morning.

''Impressive, isn't it Tom.'' Dumbledore chuckled at his only partly faked transfixed figure, walking into the alley forcing Tom to follow him reluctantly. Tom soon realized that he had perhaps even underestimated the influence Dumbledore had over the general public. There were only a few wizards that did not at least greet the Deputy Headmaster with a friendly smile. It would have far reaching consequences if Dumbledore were to openly distrust him, and it only reminded Tom how important it was to not let his mask fall in his vicinity.

Tom remembered to ask the appropriate questions, not letting any of his aggravation show. Tom respected power, and Dumbledore had it, but he personally couldn't stand the man. Too afraid to fall back on the 'dark path' to actually act, instead of advocating peace and second chances followed by redemption.

As Tom listened to Dumbledore talk about the House system, while adding his school books to his trunk where he had already stored his second-hand robes and potions equipment, he nearly laughed out loud in glee as he finally found the opening he had been waiting for the last hour of smiling and nodding and generally being a perfect model student.

''I think I'll be in Slytherin then.'' Tom frowned pensively, fake resolve making him seem older as he spun another of his masterful lies. ''Magic is amazing, Professor Dumbledore. It really is, but it's also really terrifying for someone who hasn't grown up with it, so I think I want to help students like me once I'm able to. I mean…'' Here he trailed off, ducking his head in apparent shyness. He knew it was necessary to fool Dumbledore if he wanted to succeed, but it still aggravated him. He couldn't wait until he was finally able to stop using masks, and show his real self.

It would certainly be a memorable experience, he was sure of it.

''That is a very noble goal, Tom.'' Dumbledore stated approvingly, but gravely. ''Indeed a very ambitious goal, one I feel will better this world.''

Tom literally beamed at the elder wizard, ''Thank you, sir. I'll try my hardest.''

''That, my boy is really all a person can do.'' Dumbledore replied wisely, though Tom felt that if one's best was not enough – that person would just have to improve. Tom certainly wouldn't let any limitations stop him.

''By the way Professor, what is the tall white building?'' Tom motioned towards Gringotts – the nearly impregnable bank run by Goblins.

''Ahhh, eys. That's Gringotts, our bank. It's under the authority of Goblins – a proud warrior race that really quite despises wizards. The bank was funded over thousand years ago by a single Goblin clan who had previously lost their own land against another neighbouring clan. The Goblin rebellions of the last few centuries merely added the other clans to the previously small one, and now it's like an entirely autonomous nation. Goblin law rules inside the bank, so never anger a Goblin, Tom. It could be the last thing you ever do. They are entirely too vicious, but excellent bankers nonetheless.''

Tom nodded politely, but was inwardly smirking. It seemed like his guess held true after all.

''And now, Tom. We will get the most important item for a wizard or witch – their wand.''

Dumbledore led his to Ollivander's, and Tom – regardless of his true age or goals – couldn't help the anticipation he felt. The old door creaked slightly as they entered the small dusty shop, a small three-legged stool sitting innocently in a corner, as shelves upon shelves of wands were revealed to Tom's dark gaze.

The air was saturated by the densest form of ambient magic he had ever felt – though he suspected it would be the same at Hogwarts. It tingled at his senses – neither pleasant nor unpleasant but just there.

''Good morning.'' The airy voice caused Tom to jump minutely, as he hadn't felt he others arrival – which was entirely unacceptable in his books. Garrick Ollivander looked to be of a similar age as Dumbledore – with brown hair and tall, but narrow – even spindly – built.

''Albus and…. Mr…''

''Tom Riddle, sir.'' He made sure to keep an expression as innocent as possible – after all first introductions were of untold value. They would never truly leave a person, and changing them would require a large amount of effort and subtle manipulation.

Tom was glad that Ollivander had no intention of making any small talk; his patience for this day was already running dry. Tom obediently waved one wand after the other, noticing how Ollivander kept getting more and more excited the higher the staple of rejected wands got.

''13-inches, made of yew with a core of a phoenix feather. Try it, Mr. Rille.''

Tom could feel the connection he had to the wand even before Ollivander handed it to him. His magic was already reaching out to the object, nudging him to do the very same.

As he grabbed it sparks of all colours lightened the small shop, and Tom almost gasped at the feeling of magic flowing through him, bonding him with his wand. He felt powerful – larger than life and death itself and for a moment his ambition did not seem so far away.

The sensation faded and Tom had to forcefully remind himself that this was only the beginning.

''It seems that your wand possesses the feather of my familiar, my boy. I'm sure Fawkes will be delighted that one of his donations has finally found a master. Yew woods indicates a long life and a talent for duelling, congratulations.''

''It feels incredible…'' Tom breathed, hesitating for a moment as he wondered where to put his wand. He could certainly use magic to stick it to his person, but it seemed too much of a crude method. ''Where should I carry the wand?''

Ollivander smiled at him approvingly, ''Finally a lad with some sense. Some actually put it in their pockets. Fools the lot of them. I can give you a wand holster that you can strap to your forearm – it'll not only make it easer to draw your wand, but helps to keep it safe as well.''

''But I don't have…'' Tom protested, inwardly furious that right now he was poor and dependant on charity. He would have to change that as soon as possible.

''It's alright, my boy. I'll get it for you, consider it a belated birthday present.'' Dumbledore interrupted, and Ollivander quickly grabbed a wand holster made out of leather, handing it to Tom with another absent-minded smile.

''Thank you, sir.'' Tom fastened the holster to his right forearm, inserting his wand carefully. He was more than pleased about how this trip went. He had confirmed several of his guesses, gotten his wand, and Albus Dumbledore seemed entirely taken with him.

Anonymity could often be found in the brightest of spotlights – and Tom would use that fact.

After all, what use was knowledge of the future if one would not use it to further one's own agenda?

It appeared that for all his brilliance – Tom Riddle had missed some obvious clues.

Mistakes he would rectify as quickly as possible.


A/N Well that was rather quick….. Hopefully I'll be able to update again soon enough!

Thank you to all of you who favorited, followed and/or review my story! Suggestions and/or comments are always welcome!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion