June 1945

Harry never actually left, for he was trapped in this era.

There was still a year and a half before the end of his mission and he needed to ensure he'd be in the best condition to complete it; the damage that affected him from time-travelling was definitely not something he could bear.

His plan to change Tom had failed, so he could not afford to fail his mission in finding the young man's weakness.

It was he who insisted on carrying out this improbable plan, no matter how hopeless it seemed.; it was he who held onto an illusory fantasy, abandoning his comrades across time, to try his hand and radically change the situation; it was he who, regardless of Hermione's objections, prolonged the mission, dancing on the razor's edge of a dangerous time limit. If he messed up this mission, would he still have the face to stare down his youthful comrades, his fellow soldiers?

Could he bear to say, 'I'm sorry. I have failed you'?

Where had he been?

A dangerous forest, a crowded and lively arena, a rewarding mission hall where people come and went, a temporary stand-in for an Auror team…

Wherever he could be tempered and made stronger, he would go.

The descendant of Slytherin rigorously leeched nourishment from the outside world, exchanging the detriment of his surroundings for his own personal benefit, whilst the Saviour used the hardships of said world to grind out thick calluses from his palms, exchanging this with his growth.

At this time, they both only had one purpose - to become a stronger, more formidable opponent to the other.

Their purpose in doing so, however, was very different.

Harry once said to everyone in his last Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, "What type of Dark magic could maximise its efficiency? The type of sacrificial magic that's cast in protection for a person. The kind of magic that's cast from the bottom of one's heart."

Before he even finished speaking, the Slytherins below the podium were already wildly laughing; tears coming out, their bodies crouched over their desks. The mocking laughter from the boys and girls could pierce any Professor's heart.

Nobody believed him; even the Gryffindors who had good relationships with him just shrugged it off and gave no comment.

They laughed because they didn't know that a mother's sacrifice destroyed a person who would terrorise the Wizarding World and protected him so he could grow to twenty years of age.

In this era, the boundaries between Dark and Light magic, the evil and just, had long since been drawn clear.

Harry failed many times, and the time-traveller's fourteen years of stay here was undoubtedly Harry Potter's worst failure.

Fourteen years sacrificed, and yet, even a person's ideology couldn't be changed.

"Why change it?" Fate seemed to murmur in his ears, relaxed and happy. "You could just find the weakness and leave."


June 30

In a blink of an eye, six months had passed and the Hogwarts' seventh years were due to graduate; to enter a new world, thus crowning them as adults.

Today was the graduation ceremony for the seventh-year Hogwarts students.

The students from other years were still in class, so all the space outside the classrooms were left for the group of young people about to enter society.

"Baby, congratulations on your graduation!" A father raised his glass as he held his daughter's shoulder, and clinked it against hers with a smile. The parents were also invited to where the students boarded and studied; here to celebrate the continuation of their lives.

Everyone was the protagonist of the festivity; everyone was surrounded by their most important person and people who considered them the most important.

With the exception of one person - Tom Riddle.

By his side, there was only an Abraxas Malfoy, who was not much older than him.

"You were not invited." The descendant of Slytherin said acerbically, using his fork to cut the meat connected to its tendons, his head not even lifted.

Abraxas greeted the parent next to him, playing charades as Tom's guardian. "But your plan needs me, doesn't it?"

A corner of the Slytherin's lips quirked up, and he looked at the Hall's open door.

The parents had entered the venue a long time ago, so almost no one came in or went out through the door. If someone came in at this time, it wouldn't escape the eyes of anyone here.

His plan indeed required Abraxas's participation.

His power was still too weak, but that did not negate his excellence. Six months; even if the brave and strategically well-versed Emperor Napoleon was alive, he wouldn't guarantee he'd be able to build a complete and powerful empire in such a short time. Yet Tom Riddle was only 18 this year.

He still hadn't fully grasped the ability to coerce him into staying. Nor did he have enough power to instantly seize his hourglass, in case he wanted to time-travel to escape his imprisonment.

He needed a more effective, a more… Aggressive approach.

No matter how rigid an armor, there would always be areas of welded metal; no matter how strong a fabric, there would always be areas stitched together by needles and threads. Finding the weakness meant winning half the battle.

So Harry jumped back seventy years to find Voldemort's weakness, whilst Tom Riddle was trying to create Harry Potter's weakness.

Tom knew Harry as much as he knew a part of himself; he knew what method to use to make Harry completely soft, guilty, apologetic, which would ultimately lead to Harry staying.

The Slytherin reached into his pocket and rubbed the small tube of medicine covered by a cloth inside.

If Professor Slughorn saw it, he'd immediately recognise the tube he gave away three years ago as a reward… Amortentia.

The graduation ceremony was nearly **, before that person slowly came late.

From the moment he appeared at the door, Tom's sight could no longer be directed elsewhere.

Six months with no contact, yet other than that person's slightly tired look, there were no changes.

Even during these fourteen years his facial features, appearance, and even his mentality and thoughts hadn't changed much; simple to the point where people could accurately guess them.

"Sorry, I'm late." That person was no longer as tall as he was; even if he stood upright, he'd only reach below the bridge of his nose.

Tom liked his height; if Harry wanted to look at him he'd have to slightly tilt his head back, revealing his unsuspecting Adam's apple and neck, making the Slytherin completely obsessed with this appearance of total trust. Of course, it wasn't 'trust' itself that made him obsessed.

Malfoy thought that his Devil would be so excited he wouldn't help himself, but the Devil just said, "Indeed, you're late."

Although his tone was flat, Malfoy could suddenly feel the air around him coil and the Slytherin descendant's muscles tighten and bulge.

Abraxas rubbed his hair and nodded at Harry. "Mr Potter."

Harry was still panting slightly.

Six hours ago, he completed a task to hunt down the Monty Python. Before he allowed himself to rest, he crossed the English Channel and returned to London in order to attend Tom's graduation ceremony.

He had never attended a graduation ceremony before. To be exact, he never even graduated.

In seventh-year, he, Hermione and Ron were on the run, faced with a gloomy forest, glowing green wand and a floating Dark Mark, though they were initially supposed to be facing the warm castle, the appreciation of their teachers and parents, and grinning at their graduation ceremony.

He didn't come back to accompany Tom in his monumental marker for adulthood. Rather, you could say Harry came back for himself; to lay witness to an event he never had the privilege of participating in.

"I'll go and greet Professor Dumbledore first." Harry looked at the Slytherin; even though he was psychologically abnormal, he was physiologically used to it. Even though there were grudges held, the physiology of living so close to that child for fourteen years was similar to being connected by blood; as soon as they met, he felt happiness from the bottom of his heart.

"Alright." That child smiled, and Harry was moved by his handsome and *straight appearance.

*( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

How many girls would he fascinate?

Harry chuckled, turning to the old man sitting in his seat drinking mead, and walked towards the musing professor.

"I could force him to fall in love with you." Abraxas narrowed his eyes maliciously, glaring at the departing young man's back.

The Devil beside him was not interested in this topic. "I just want to keep him."

Malfoy no longer spoke.

Abraxas had a bad feeling.

The degree of influence Harry Potter held over Tom Riddle was beyond normal. And to become a successful superior, the existence of such an influencing factor could later prove to be fatal.

Before he always believed that Tom Riddle would be under his command, so in regards to the restrictions, fetters and influences that affected the careerist, he was happy to see them occur. But now that the Malfoy family followed Tom Riddle, for the sake of the long-term benefits of his family the Slytherin descendant he followed had to be perfect and without defects.

He wanted an invulnerable, wise and ruthless Tom Riddle, not the current Slytherin who would be rendered vulnerable due to a single person.

Abraxas stared at the young man standing next to Dumbledore, eyes dark.

By the time Harry returned, Abraxas had left.

"I'm very happy that you're back." Tom leaned closer towards Harry, well-behaved and serious enough to make Harry a little overwhelmed.

Maybe it's a ruse again, a traitorous voice whispered in Harry's heart.

"Are you still leaving?" Tom asked softly as he grabbed Harry's wrist, looking into the pair of green eyes.

"...Hm, I'll come back after a time."

Although he already expected this answer, Tom still felt choked, his breathing feeling restricted, similar to when he stayed at 'home' alone many years ago; tyranny, anger, madness… All the negative emotions began to breed.

But at least he wasn't who he was back then anymore.

"Why don't we go for some Butterbeer? I'll have Abraxas accompany us." At least now he could suppress his emotions.

Everything was perfectly going according to plan.

Maybe it was Tom's attitude that allowed Harry to relax a little.

The slightly tired young man also flashed a fleeting smile, nodding his head in favour of Tom's suggestion, the hair curled up on the top of his head swaying.


January 13, 2001

"Hermione! The Death Eaters have begun to gather! Where's Harry?!" Ron kicked open the laboratory's closed door, carrying in a cold wind, and rushed in.

"Get out!" Hermione, like a cat with blown-up fur, stared at the big boy and hurriedly pushed him out of the lab before closing the door. "I've said it before; nobody but Harry and I are allowed to enter."

Ron reluctantly yelled, "There's nothing in it!"

"There's a positioned magnetic field in here; if you disturb it, Harry won't be able to come back," Hermione said in a low and fierce voice into Ron's ear.

Ron irritably clutched his hair, eyes blazing with anger, "Hermione, there's news that Voldemort has already assembled the Death Eaters and is about to attack. At this moment, where is Harry?!"

"Hold on! We've still three more days left!" Hermione stared frantically at the closed door, her sharp gaze almost piercing through the shabby door. "In three days, Harry's mission would be accomplished!"

"Then what should we do now? Get beaten?!"

Hermione pursed her lips and thought of a possible solution. The long-haired woman was particularly wise.

"Tell everyone to hold their positions and get ready. We'll head to Hogwarts the second Harry comes back!"

That'd be the place for the final battle.

There, they would get the help of professors and students, they would get the help of the Hogwarts castle, they would get the help of… Severus Snape!

No one noticed the acceleration of Fate's chart in both past and present.

Because time was a spherical prison; everyone was within, and nobody could extricate themselves.


** - I feel the author likes to put asterisks in completely random spots. There's no need to censor anything here, is there...?