Chapter One
June 02, 1991
Minerva McGonagall was on her way to Hagrid's hut – to once again remind the grounds keeper that his annoying dog was not allowed in the castle – when she noticed a curled up figure on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
Her first thought was a poor animal had been injured, and was now simply passing its last moments in the peace of dawn's cloak. Then, her heart froze at the possibility of the figure being the very dog she had come to chastise Hagrid about.
Deciding to investigate further – her nagging compassionate side wouldn't rest until she made sure it wasn't Hagrid's dog – Minerva began approaching the forest. With every step, she began to realize that the figure was not Fang…no, the figure was not an animal at all.
The moment the professor came to the realization that what she saw was human, she began to run as fast as she could. Soon, the visibility was no longer an issue. She stood over what was clearly a human boy – a child, no less.
She wondered many things – what was a child doing on Hogwarts property in the middle of the night? How did he get there? What had happened to him? And most importantly, was he alive?
Leaning down, Minerva gently pushed the boy onto his back.
Then, she jumped back just as quickly, almost as if the boy's skin had burned her. What she saw stirred her so badly that she let a startled scream escape her throat. Her legs pushed her several feet away from the body.
The Professor barely registered Hagrid's booming footsteps as they approached. It took her a few minutes to shake herself into action, but finally she stood up completely and turned to Hagrid.
"Go get Albus," she ordered, though her voice shook. "Now."
Hagrid was obviously confused, and before he left, he took a step closer to the body on the ground. The half-giant was a bit louder at the discovery than Minerva had been.
He gasped in shock, before almost shouting at her.
"Blimey, Professor!" Hagrid took several steps back. "Is tha' who I think it is?"
"Just go get the headmaster. Now."
The entirety of the Hogwarts' staff stood inside Albus Dumbledore's office. Plus one.
All eyes were glued to the plus one – some in terror, some in confusion, some in curiosity, and some in disbelief. Dumbledore, however, was the only one who didn't look concerned.
"He's obviously been sent here for a reason," he began. "Whether it's something he did or something someone else did…we must always assume there is a reason."
Several moments passed by, but everyone stayed silent.
"I will get everything figured out; until then, you are all dismissed," said Dumbledore, before gesturing to his Potion's Professor. "Except for you, Severus. I would like to have a word with you."
Slowly, the Hogwarts' professors trickled out of the room until only three wizards were left. One of them still unconscious.
"I think we can both agree that the present-time Voldemort is anything but dead," the headmaster began. "And I don't think his past self being here will change that."
Severus only stared blankly at him. "I agree, of course, headmaster…however, I must ask – what help am I to you in regards to this situation?"
The old man gently fingered his silver beard before turning to face the Potion's master head on. "Halia Potter begins school this fall…something tells me that these two are meant to meet…beyond that, I have not the slightest clue what will happen. I want you to keep an eye on them both, as it's clear which house he will be sorted into. He looks to be first-year age."
Severus nodded his head slowly. "And am I safe to assume that we will be giving him a different last name?"
"Not necessary – barely anyone knows of Voldemort as Tom Riddle…and those that do will be informed of our predicament to prevent any future…surprises."
"Very well, Headmaster," said Severus. "I will do my best."
The Potion's master disappeared down the spiraling staircase that led out of Dumbledore's office. The headmaster was finally left to his thoughts.
He had a sneaking suspicion that Tom was sent to the future by Dumbledore himself – his past self must have known that the boy would be in good hands.
Why – or what – he had planned was beyond him, but at the very least he knew his past self wouldn't be stupid enough to not leave any clues for his future self to find.
So, with nothing else to do, he began searching through his office in hopes of finding something left behind. Glancing at the sleeping boy, he could only hope this time turned out differently.
