In Time

By: Lanku Black

Summary: Tom Riddle has always had a thirst for knowledge. It's that thirst- among other things- that leads him to Harry. And once that thirst is quenched, what will he do with knowledge gained? (TRHP)

Everything For A Reason (Chapter One)

Castigat ridendo mores - One corrects customs by laughing at them.

About an hour later, it was finished. Tom stared at the trinket, knowing he'd done everything correctly, at least by his calculations, but still hesitant to test it on himself. Really, though, he didn't trust anyone else enough to test it for him so he was stuck either way. Tom smirked at himself and shook his head, throwing caution to the wind and putting the chain around his neck.

Making sure it was on the right way, Tom reached for the tiny handle but ended up frowning in confusion. The pointer he'd set to hours just a moment ago was on years. "That's... odd," he said to himself, fingers twitching as they moved to fix the pointer when the time-turner did something unexpected. It started turning. It moved much too quickly for Tom to regain his wits and stop it, though even if he had tried, it would've been futile.

So Tom found himself launched into- it must be the future, he reasoned to himself. He saw flashes of the Room- Dumbledore opening the door to a bunch of chamber pots, several people that ended up throwing something into a room crowded with a bunch of junk, a girl falling into a pile of books, then darkness. And when the world suddenly stopped spinning out of control, Tom was finally able to see that he definitely wasn't in the Room of Requirement anymore. In fact, he doubted he was in Hogwarts at all.

He heard two voices close by, muffled only slightly by the door and was surprised to realize that he recognized the first person as Dumbledore. He didn't like the fact that the only thing separating him from someone who knew him in the past, but he didn't see what he could do about it. For one thing he had no idea what year it was nor could he see to work the time-turner.

Instead of wasting his time worrying about it- not that it wasn't on his mind-, he turned he tuned back in to the conversation at hand. Apparently the other two had heard his entrance into wherever he was because the voice he hadn't been able to recognize asked, "My... Headmaster, did you hear that? Why that's most certainly an omen of bad luck." Tom wasn't too surprised by the man's new title, but it didn't stop him from frowning when he heard it.

Dumbledore had trouble getting the woman to focus again after that, as she'd decided that the 'omen' was a sign that she should teach at Hogwarts. Tom was sure that Dumbledore had decided he'd had enough and was trying to, as gently as possible, tell the omen he wouldn't hire her in a million years when her tirade was suddenly cut off. Tom had just about convinced himself that Dumbledore had murdered the woman when a ghastly voice spoke:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies .'

The logical part of Tom treated the words- he'd never heard one evoked before, but he knew it was a prophecy- as nothing more than information. He dissected the words in his mind, already finding loopholes and speculating whether the Dark Lord of this time was still Grindelwald or if someone else had risen to power.

The part of him that was completely ignoring all trains of logical thought, however, made his heart beat faster and his blood run cold. Even though there was no way he, as he was in his present, could have any connection to this, he had the weirdest feeling. Something in the air had changed.

Soon the woman regained her senses, and apologized for having apparently nodded off on Dumbledore. Tom nearly snorted when Dumbledore went along with what she seemed to believe instead of telling her what had really happened and hired the Seer when before he was about to tell her she wasn't right for the position.

Chairs scraped against the floor as Dumbledore went off on some nonsensical tangent that Tom had already blocked out even before his attention was diverted to his chest where the time-turner was turning by itself again. The last thing he heard before he was flung into time was Dumbledore's sharp intake of breath as he exclaimed, "Severus?!"

When Tom was back in his time, he was monumentally displeased. It seemed his little invention had worked as it properly should, but not as he'd intended it. There were only two possible explanations: he'd performed the magic incorrectly in his rush, or someone had tampered with it. The latter, being decidedly impossible made Tom want to kick something. Instead he settled for taking the time-turner off and winding his arm back to throw-

A hand much paler than his own grasped his wrist and prevented the movement. Tom tried to jerk his hand away ineffectively, turning to face his captor. The man's eyes were boring into him, gold eyes glinting creepily. Tom frowned, letting his mask slip into confusion as his thoughts raced. How the bloody hell had the man gotten into the Room of Requirement? Why was he looking at him like that? As if he'd... why did he look so familiar? He'd seen those eyes before, but he couldn't figure out, for the life of him, where.

"Did you see it?" The man asked, looking as if he already knew the answer. Trying to get himself in control, Tom opened his mouth to tell him that he had not clue what he was talking about, but the hand tightened around his wrist. "The prophecy... your future. Did you see?"

And Tom was thrown for another loop. His future? What did the Dark Lord have anything to do with him? No one in his family had ever defied the Dark Lord (before he'd killed them all) and besides that, his birthday wasn't in July. So if he wasn't the "one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord," then...

"I'm not the future Dark Lord!" he growled out, unable to keep himself under control at all, even as his mind screamed for him to keep his calm down. In any case, his words weren't entirely true. He did seek power, and he wanted to take control, and to do that he'd probably have to start a war. A war in which he would be looked upon as, not the hero, but the Dark Lord.

"Oh? Killing masses of innocent Muggles and spewing propaganda about 'Mudbloods and Blood Traitors' all the while obsessively trying to eliminate a boy in a prophecy that you don't even know completely all seems pretty dark to me." The words were harsh but they were said with no emotion whatsoever.

Tom was completely at a loss for words. He would be the first to admit to not being the nicest or most innocent person there was, but he certainly saw nothing to be gained by the pointless killing of Muggles and he had nothing against 'Blood Traitors' or Muggleborns.

Nothing he hoped to gain by taking of the ministry was like that- he'd found, upon entering the Wizarding World, the prejudice and hatred people purely despicable; an already oppressed people like wizards spreading more hate by refusing others- werewolves, vampires, goblins, and so many more- their rights as beings of sound mind, instead treating them as dangerous creatures. And when he'd realized it was something not only widely accepted but enforced by the Ministry he'd known something had to be done, in a not necessarily legal manner if it came to that.

Not that he mentioned any of this out loud. Instead he asked the other, "Who are you?"

"No one of importance to you... as of yet, anyway," the other replied after a moment, pulling out the same time- turner Tom currently had in his hand.

"I gave that to you?" Tom asked, understanding that the other was from the future he'd just seen. He doubted, however, that he'd give anyone something that they could so grossly misuse like the man was doing now.

"No, I doubt you even remember making this. I found it in a box of things you decided against making Horcruxes out of."

The mention of Horcruxes caused Tom pause, taking the man more seriously as a sliver of fear caused his heart to sped up. The other's eyes immediately drifted away from Tom's, his words ceasing as if he'd lost his train of thought. "You're staring at my neck," Tom muttered obviously after several moments, as if he thought the other hadn't realized where his gaze had fallen.

The man only grinned, his eye's snapping back to look into Tom's blue ones.

"If you won't tell me who you are, at least tell me why you're here. I take it that it's not because of me?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. It's most certainly because of you that I'm here. However, I'm going behind your back to do this."

Tom's frown turned into a glare at having his question so easily deflected.. "Why?"

"Purely selfish reasons, I assure you. I don't care about who wins this silly wizarding war, I just want you to be this you in the future."

He let go of Tom's wrist and sighed, the smile slipping somewhat. And when Tom looked up again from rubbing his wrist, the blonde was holding up his time-turner and speaking as it was adjusted and turned.

"Because as the world is now, Tom riddle is dead and Voldemort is too fractured, too insane and dead inside to be considered human."

Then he was gone.

Tom slammed the door to his room shut, eyes narrowed into slits. There were two people inside already, probably looking for his help with a subject or a student, but they jumped up and stared at him as he huffed over to his bed, unused to seeing their normally calm and collected prefect storming around.

They glanced at each other and immediately tried to run out of the room. A boy with honey-brown hair made it first- unsurprisingly since he'd been messing with Tom's school books on a desk close to the door- and ran out the door, shutting it quickly, and firing a locking spell on it.

The other, black-haired boy growled, and Tom could tell without looking up from his pillow that it was Orion Black that had been stuck with him. Tom ignored him though, burying his face into the pillow and trying to figure out just... what exactly had happened.

He hated not being sure of the truth, not knowing the answer especially when it concerned himself. And this future, his future, could not be true! That man, he had to be lying. Really, he hadn't given any real proof, just some prophecy that could have been about anyone! And anyway, who was stupid enough to go out and attempt to prevent a prophecy? Had wizards never heard of Oedipus? Macbeth?

Prophecies are always self-fulfilling! The more you try to change it, the closer to completing it you get. Tom wondered what his future self did when he'd found out about the prophecy, then promptly berated himself for acting as if he'd believed that pack of lies. It was just... the man had looked so...- sad?- that Tom couldn't believe he was lying. Not that looks could not be-

"So... um, Tom, what's wrong?"

Sighing, said boy rolled over to face his fellow Slytherin. "It's nothing, just Dumbledore again. You'd think the old fool would get tired of accusing me of all the misdeeds in Hogwarts." It was true, to an extent. He'd ended up walking out of the Room and straight into Dumbledore who had decided that it was just about time for them to have a 'talk'.

"Oh, never accuse," Black laughed from where he was on the floor next to the bed, glad it wasn't anything truly serious. "Dumbledog merely has talks with his students, all the while trying to cop a feel."

"The male ones anyway," Tom snorted, perfectly able to imagine Dumbledore feeling someone up.

"Yes, of course. And the way his eyes twinkle... no, that man's just not normal. It's just too bad that Dippet can't see all that and fire him."

"I haven't heard any explosions and nothing's broken, so can I assume it's safe to enter?" The brunette asked, sticking his head through a crack in the door.

"Malfoy, you dunderhead! When have you ever known Tom to blow up?"

Shrugging, Abraxas Malfoy moved further into the room."If I'm not mistaken, you were running as well."

Black sniffed, attempting to maintain his dignity. "Well, I decided to stay and talk with him about his problems, did I not?"

"Only after you realized I locked you in."

Malfoy laughed at the other boy, climbing into the overlarge bed behind Tom. Tom said nothing about the invasion of his privacy and neither asked him where he'd been. He was glad for the normalcy of it. And when, moments later, Black got up and stretched, acting as if he were about to leave, Tom was more than happy to give him the invitation the boy had been waiting for. The three of them settled into the bed with more than enough room to avoid touching each other, but instead of staying up to make sure Malfoy didn't invade his space as he often did, Tom found himself drifting off.

Despite his better judgment, his common sense, and the fact that Dumbledore had caught him leaving the Room, Tom found himself staring at the door to the Room of Requirements when he was supposed to be in Transfiguration a week later.

He'd finally stopped denying that night's events, knowing that there was too much evidence to deny most of it. Two time-turners in a time where he'd only made one, the name he'd chosen and revealed to no one, and- though it wasn't really evidence, those eyes that looked much too sad for the amount of years the man had lived. That didn't mean he'd trusted everything the man said of course, simply that he couldn't deny it all.

He opened the door, surprised that it had even appeared without him thinking about what it was he needed from it. That is, until he walked inside and saw the same man as the night before smiling over at him from a chair. Those eyes...! Tome felt like an idiot when he finally remembered where he'd seen those eyes before. "The shop-keeper?" he asked, sitting across from the other.

"Well, it's nice of you to remember, nicer still that you answered my call. Yes I as at the shop that day, but the actually shop- keeper met a rather unfortunate end that way. Terrible coincidence, actually..."

Tom didn't reply to that, asking a question of his own. "So, have you decided to actually explain what this is all about?"

"Your patience needs working on," The other answered. "Well, I do suppose you have a right to be frustrated," the blonde said with a nod. "However, that's no reason to be any less than level headed. In your annoyance you've even let your defenses down."

Tom merely frowned, refusing to look chastised or shamed. He had been patient for a week and he had lost any he had reserved at the smile on the other's face. Now he only wanted answers. Which, he knew, was exactly what the man in front of him was talking about. He needed to keep his calm to gain in advantage. So he forced himself to calm down, and before long he'd managed it to a point where he could see the dull, rust colored soul tipped in a vibrant gold of the man before him.

"Good." He gained a smile from the other- not that the man wasn't always smiling- for his trouble. "Well now, I've been terribly rude thus far haven't I? Not even an introduction. My name is Aldric Meade."

The color didn't waver and Tom raised an eyebrow. "You didn't lie? I'm surprised."

"I thought you might be able to tell," Aldric replied, "though I don't suppose you'll tell me how. Of course, I could have given any number of names and have spoken the truth."

It wasn't a lie, and Tom wondered if he'd been wrong in thinking that the soul never lied. He decided to look into it more later.

"Well, I haven't come to upset you so allow me to get to the point. I want you to be aware of what lies at the end of the path you're currently traveling on. What I wish to accomplish is changing the future."

Tom already knew this, of course. Aldric had said as much when they'd last met. What he really wanted to know was, "Why?"

Aldric's head tilted in something close to amusement. "Oh, and a better world for all wizarding kind isn't reason enough?"

"No. If that were the case, you wouldn't have showed me the prophecy. You wouldn't have told me that I had a chance of becoming the Dark Lord because you wouldn't know my goals right now- you wouldn't know whether that would please me or horrify me. You would probably be trying to befriend me and teach me the 'error of my ways' or whatever it is that those that seek heroism do. Besides, you've already told me you're being selfish, haven't you?"

Aldric snickered, replying, "You're most certainly the man who is to become Voldemort. You're both too perceptive for your own good. I was only expecting your last answer. I'm trying to change the course of events for myself, yes. I don't care if you destroy the world, so long as you're whole again- human, sane, whatever that entails."

Tom was going to ask more about it because he just couldn't understand it. Why?If you don't care that the world ends up just as it was before then what's the point of changing one little detail?As much as he wanted to ask, he knew that this Aldric person had said all he would on that. Tom calmed his racing thoughts and changed the subject. "The prophecy... why did you show it to me?"

"I'm not quite sure, other than that prophecy changed many things." His eyes stared off for a moment, into something Tom was sure he would not be able to see even if he turned to look. When he came back to himself Aldric blinked, not looking at Tom anymore. Tom had to wonder what they other tried to hide by looking away."Not that you weren't well on your way to madness before then. This part I'll explain myself, I suppose.

One of your followers gave you part of the prophecy. There were two people that the prophecy could have been talking about, but Dumbledore," Aldric winced at the name, "put them both under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. One of the Secret-Keepers, however, betrayed one family to Voldemort. And Voldemort went to kill the boy.

"He failed miserably though, because his killing curse bounced right off of the boy back to Voldemort. The boy became the Boy-Who-Lived, and you were thought dead until you managed to regain a body." He saw the look on Tom's face and added, "Your own was completely eradicated. The only things left as proof it happened at all are the boys dead parents and the cursed scar you gave to him."

"Am I really so stupid in the future?" Tom asked himself when the other finished. He'd always prided himself in his ability to see though the things put in front of him to the truth, and to him such actions were absurd. Insanity was not an excuse for stupidity in his opinion.

He had, after all, always felt the calls of those that truly were not there, always seen things no one else could, and he'd learned to adapt, to use his twisted mind to his advantage. But allowing it to get away with him, letting insanity control you- and that was simply the only thing that could have happened, he wouldn't do something so utterly demented if he were in his right mind- was simply not acceptable.

"To do all that, and without knowing the whole prophecy? No, even if you did, why set things in motion? Kill his parents, you give him a reason to hate you; try to kill him, you admit to fear- mark him as an equal... Even knowing about the prophecy, that seems the stupidest thing to do."

"I do hope you're beginning to see my point? The way you are in the future, you don't cling to a bit of common sense. Goals and aspirations have been set aside for some brat. The prophecy says one of you must die so..."

"No," Tom interrupted with the air of an intellect contemplating the Sphinx. "That's not true. That's just how Dumbledore interpreted the prophecy. I doubt it's as straight forward as that, though. There would have been no need for so many words if that was all it was about. And that interpretation doesn't encompass everything anyway. For instance, at the end where it talks about the other, it seems to me as if it's a completely different person from the other two mentioned before.

"And not just that either. There's also the difference between living and surviving. So while the other survives, neither can truly live? Who is the other, then? It could be Dumbledore, this other boy that could've been killed, or someone else. Really, there are much too many loopholes or instances where you can use this prophecy differently. It's really very vague."

Aldric raised an eyebrow, looking as if he'd just taken the moment to listen in. Tom bristled, but kept himself from snarling at the infuriating man. Barely. "And just how did you come up with that?"

"It's just a theory, but everything is not always as it seems. A prophecy tells the future to some extent, I'm sure, but not if no one knows of it. It's a person's knowledge of it that gives a prophecy power. Especially one interpreted incorrectly. If prophecies weren't like that, then we would call choices myth."

The other man looked rather surprised at this, as if he hadn't thought of such a thing himself. "These must be thoughts rewarded to you by living in a muggle environment. Wizards don't have thoughts like that, though, perhaps they should." Aldric replied, looking pleased with the man before him. Then he sighed, frowning slightly. "It's certainly an interesting thought, but its not one we should waste time discussing now. I need you to disguise yourself before we can begin."

Tom was slightly miffed at the dismissal, but he nodded anyway, putting a glamour on so that he looked just a bit younger, with hair that curled slightly, stopping just below his cheekbones. He made his jaw a little softer and widened his eyes. As an added touch he changed his skin so that it was paler, and changed the color of his eyes to red. The overall glamour made him seem much younger and more innocent- someone to underestimate.

"Good. Your robes should be fine for this trip, though I'd recommend muggle clothes after this."

"When are you going to explain everything to me?" Tom couldn't stop himself from asking. He hated, more than anything, to have things kept with him, especially things that had to do with him. He hated lies and he hated half-truths and he hated omissions. They all amounted to the same thing anyway.

"I'm sorry, but I need to be careful about things like this. I never know how what I say will change things. I will tell you as soon as I am able to."

Tom nodded, wondering if he could believe that. "Okay, I'm ready then," I replied, putting the time-turner around his neck.

"Good," Aldric said, and flicked his wrist toward the other boy so that the time-turner around his neck was set spinning.

Tom knew he wasn't in the same closet as before, but he might as well have been. Wherever he was, it was cramped, dark, cold and dank. This Aldric person seriously seems to enjoy forcing me into places like this, he grumbled to himself.

He was halfway on top of what must have been a cot from the lumpy fabric under him. And when his eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light- he wondered if there was a spell to speed up that transition- he realized that there was something next to him on the cot.

He managed to maintain his pride at this revelation in that he didn't let out an undignified squawk or fall off the makeshift bed, but despite that he felt embarrassed by his surprise.

The figure shivered and let out a mewling noise and for a moment Tom believed it to be a house-elf, but upon further inspection he found it was a little boy with messy black hair and the most ragged clothes he'd ever seen.

He cast a quick 'Lumos' and was horrified to discover just how bad a condition the clothes were in. Merlin, you can't even classify those rags as clothes! House-elves receive better! They were dirty and overly big and Mordred, the holes in them!

Tom sat stiffly on the edge of the little bed, watching the boy quietly. He wondered what, if anything, the boy had to do with whatever he was doing here. "I really need to stop letting people talk me into these things..." he mumbled quietly, recalling Dumbledore do the same thing. Of course, Dumbledore only wanted to take him to Hogwarts, Aldric had decided to take him through time.

It didn't take long for Tom to grow bored of waiting, though, so he decided to look around. The fact that he needed to spell the door open- They lock him up?!- did nothing for his mood, but that was nothing compared to what he saw when he got out into the hall. Because he'd barely recognized that he was in a Muggle house before he saw where he'd just been sitting.

The boy was sleeping in a cupboard.

Tom couldn't form any thoughts past that. A... a ruddy cupboard under the bloody stairs! Hidden away like – like some abomination they wanted to sweep under the rug! "Or under the stairs," he hissed to himself. His fingers twitched around his wand and it took much to keep himself from finding whoever it was that had locked the boy in there in the first place. What could possess someone to do something like that to...anyone really, but especially a little boy? What could the boy have done-

Tom lost his grip o the wand because suddenly he knew. Hadn't he gone through the same thing at the orphanage when he couldn't control his magic? Hadn't he been called freak and worthless, and disgusting? Hadn't they thought that if they ignored it and pretended it didn't exist long enough, that his magic would die out? And, when they realized it wouldn't work, hadn't they tried to beat it out of him? And hadn't they-

The wand clanged against the floor, sparks flying out of it from the interrupted spell. Tom did jump this time, and the noise seemed to be enough to startle the boy awake as well, because he let out a little shout as he sat up in the cot.

Reclaiming his wand, Tom cast another 'Lumos' and peered into the cupboard. The boy wasn't completely awake yet, still stretching with his eyes clamped shut. The boy winced slightly when he stretched, and, scratching his head, the boy's eyes finally blinked open.

They were a bight green that Tom had only ever seen bursting from his wand the night his father and grandparents were killed. It was only a moment after this that he saw the bruise that framed one of those shocking eyes and his cheek.

He forced the emotion from his face lest the boy think his anger was directed at him. The boy jumped away from him, and hit into the wall in his haste to get some distance between them. Then they blinked at each other until the smaller boy grappled at the a shelf, grabbing glasses and shoving them onto his face.

Tom raised a curious eyebrow at that and again when the other blinked up at him with a awed look. Then the boy said, in an odd and awkward voice that made it obvious he wasn't used to speaking, "Aw you the God of Death?" Tom's eyes widened, but before h could reply the boy continued, "Aw you gonna take me away?"

"No," Tom replied, reverting to the guise of a prefect trying to help out an underclassman. "No, little one, I've only come to visit."

The boy nodded, biting his lip and trying not to let his disappointment show. "S'okay," he mumbled, then brightened suddenly. "No one's eva visited me befo!"

Tom grimaced, wondering at the boys ability to admit to such a thing so happily. "Well then, I'm glad to be the first." The boy's smile widened at that. "So tell me, little one, what's your name?"

"I'm Hawwy Potter!"

A chill went down Tom's spine.

"Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change."
Malcolm X Speaks

A/N: Well, I've had this finished for a while but I was too lazy to type it. Finally got around to it, though! Heh, I love the part where Tom is freaking out about Harry's clothes. XD The holes! I worried that people would think that this was out of character for him, but I think that after all his time ith his raggedy clothes at the orphanage, when he's finally able to wear decent things, he'll put a lot of importance of appearance, maybe not to the point of becoming vain, but to where he frowns when wrinkle dares to make itself known on his person. I also worried about how out of character his interactions were, especially with Black and Malfoy. He has a reason for allowing them into his room though, and as for their bedding arrangements- Tom grew up in a small orphanage during World War 2, I don't think sharing a bed would be that odd to him. I don' think he'd like it that much though, but he has a reason for it too, I'm thinking... or knowing, I suppose.

Also, it'll be a while yet before we get to the actual 'present' setting so please bear with it? I don't know how many people actually like when a story is developed like, but I want to give you the information as Tom receives it. Heh, I should stop rambling, who knows what I'm giving away? If anything. So umm.. like I was trying to say, sorry for mistakes and
thanks for reading!

And also... please review?