Disclaimer- This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership over any characters or the world of Harry Potter. The story I tell here is not part of J.K. Rowling's story canon (which is far better than anything I could write). I'm only borrowing some of her characters to practice fiction writing. The fanfiction story of The Dark Lord's Equal is for entertainment only, I will make no money off of it, and is not part of the official story line.
Rating: T. Nothing terribly graphic.
This is a one shot that came to me so I wrote it down. Maybe if it attracts enough interest I might expand on it someday.
TDLE
Chapter 1
October 31, 1981
Hagrid entered the Hogwarts' infirmary in a frenzy. His wild hair was even wilder than usual following a prolonged ride on Sirius Black's flying motorcycle. He was obviously worried, stress lines were an otherwise rare sight on the usually jovial giant's face.
A relatively tiny bundle in a blue blanket was held in his massive arms. A dark haired infant was well wrapped in the blanket. His eyes were open, though they had a dazed look to them.
There were two things remarkable about the infant. The first was a small lightning bolt shaped wound above his right eye. It was still oozing blood.
The second was that the babe's eyes were glowing red. There were many strange and particular things to be seen in wizarding Britain, but small children with demonic looking eyes were not usually counted among them.
"Something's wrong with the wee bairn," Hagrid said fretfully as he handed the babe to Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' mediwitch. "I dinnae what's wrong with his eyes and he hasn't said a peep since I picked him up."
The middle aged witch frowned as she laid the infant on the examination table. Her wand glowed as it moved. First to conjure a small pad for the child to rest on, then to transfigure the tabletop to include a small protective rail around the table.
Once his comfort and safety were seen to, she slowly worked her wand up and down his body. She muttered incantation after incantation, each a different diagnostic charm testing for a variety of real or suspected ailments.
Hagrid loomed over her shoulder as she worked, stepping from side to side nervously. He clearly was unwilling to let the child out of his sight. That was how Dumbledore found them as he entered the infirmary.
"Poppy. Hagrid. How is young Harry?" The normal twinkle in the headmaster's eyes was absent. Instead, he'd adopted his grandfatherly but grave persona.
"The wound on his forehead was inflicted by some kind of dark curse," Poppy replied distractedly. "I don't know which one, yet. Hagrid, hand me the dittany. It's in the third cabinet, second shelf."
She continued moving her wand, focused on the child as the giant moved to comply with her request. "It should heal and leave a small permanent scar. Once healed it will be barely noticeable. He's also suffering from magical exhaustion. He'll only require rest to recover. What concerns me is his eyes and unstable magic."
Albus moved to stand over the bustling medi-witch's shoulder, Hagrid having stepped aside to allow him room. His eyes widened as he saw Harry's red eyes, no trace of his former brilliant green orbs remaining. He expanded his rather potent magical senses as Poppy began applying the dittany to the infant's forehead wound.
Concerned with what he was sensing, he sent a delicate legilimency probe into the small boy's mind. He instinctively grasped his wand tighter as he began to more fully understand what his senses were telling him.
The boy before him was not Harry Potter. While it was quite clearly Harry Potter's body, all trace of Harry's cheerful and bubbly personality was gone. Instead, he detected a stunned and confused, and very malignant and adult, Tom Riddle.
He felt a brief pang of regret as he accepted the truth of what he'd discovered. He'd grown fond of the energetic toddler on his frequent visits to the Potters' cottage. He'd even begun fancying himself as something like a grandfather to the wee lad.
While he'd had no idea how the events at Godric's Hollow would play out when he pointed Tom at the Potters, he'd hoped at least the infant Harry would survive. The prophecy had implied it, he'd thought. Wrongfully, as was now apparent.
He sighed. Regrets served no purpose. At least little Harry's death paved the way to the Greater Good being realized, he thought, comforting himself.
"Poppy, Hagrid, let me exam Harry for a moment." They stepped aside to allow him access to the baby's body. "I'll need to cast some rather delicate diagnostics," he said as he moved to stare down at the infant, his wand in his hand. "I have to ask you to leave as the presence of others may contaminate the readings," he lied. He kept his voice calm as he spoke.
Poppy looked disgruntled but left the room even as she muttered about doddering old fools who thought they were certified healers just because they had the honorary title of Grand Sorcerer. Dumbledore knew that she'd be lurking just outside the infirmary door, ready to burst in and take control of any imagined disaster at the first hint of it arising.
She really was a jewel, he thought fondly. Not only was she a consummate professional, she truly cared for the students. She was irreplaceable.
Hagrid, of course, hustled out of the infirmary as soon as he'd suggested it. The half giant was far too trusting and loyal, and none too bright. In his own way he was just as valuable as Poppy. His traits, good and bad, could often be employed to the benefit of the headmaster.
Once they'd left the room, he cast a silencing charm to make sure he wasn't overheard. He also placed an overpowered locking charm on both of the infirmary doors, one leading to the castle's interior and the other it's exterior.
To be on the safe side, he cast a silent Hominem Revelio to ensure that no one was lurking hidden within the infirmary. It was best he not be interrupted.
Confident he was alone, he looked down on the infant body as he pondered what to do. Tom was obviously struggling to regain his mental balance. He suspected it would be quite a while before he would be able to restore some semblance of control. Britain's most feared Dark Lord was in quite a vulnerable state.
Which he felt was understandable. It wasn't every day that one's soul was ripped apart, and a portion stuffed into an infant's dead but still warm body. It would take time before even the most potent wizard's consciousness could fully integrate into the infant's nervous system.
All in all, he thought young Tom was handling matters as well as could be expected. He felt a brief burst of pride in his former protege's accomplishments. If only he could be redeemed and guided to the Light.
It was that thought that finalized his decision making. He moved his wand, casting a silent Rennervate. As he suspected, it banished the confusion and dazed look from the toddler's eyes. It didn't speed up the integration between the infant body and adult soul, but it did allow Tom's attention to focus on him, such as it was.
He stroked his beard in satisfaction as Tom's eyes widened in shock as he peered up into the headmaster's wizened face. The poor boy probably has no idea how he came to be in the Hogwarts' infirmary with the headmaster, a wizard he hated above all others, standing above him.
He didn't bother to conceal the smugness he felt. It wasn't often that one's self-proclaimed mortal enemy fell so completely into one's power.
"Tom, you made a very serious error in judgement when you sought out the Potters. You may have killed them, but you sealed the Prophecy and your doom."
He stretched his old bones and felt some relief when he managed to pop his spine. If only he could convince his former mentor to part with the Philosopher's Stone for a short time. He wasn't troubled by the prospect of death, but having to endure an aging and failing body was terribly inconvenient.
"I knew that letting young Severus escape with the first portion of the Prophecy would tempt you to action." He chuckled, obviously pleased with himself. "You have an almost Gryffindorish habit of charging in. All that was needed was to give you a target, which was all too easy."
"What wasn't easy was convincing James to give up his invisibility cloak. It was even harder to subtly influence young Black to suggest switching Secret Keepers. He's a stubborn and prideful boy, with a strong and well protected mind. Changing it without him becoming aware of my tampering was some of my better work, if I say so myself." He smirked. "I knew Pettigrew was one of your own. I baited the trap and you blundered right into it. I love it when a plan comes together." He winked at the possessed infant as Tom's new eyes widened in realization.
His smile broadened as he finally saw concern cross his former student's eyes, his mouth and arms flailing about erratically. Whatever he was attempting to do, he wasn't succeeding. Tom would be spending quite some time integrating himself into his new shell. "Would you like to hear the full prophecy? Satisfying your curiosity is the least I could do, considering how much I've inconvenienced you."
Not waiting for an answer, he began. "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…". He stopped to gloat a bit as he saw recognition alight in his former pupil's eyes. "That's the bit I allowed you to hear. It's the next part which is critical- . . . 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…,".
Dumbledore adopted his lecturer's tone as he spoke down to the Dark Lord trapped in an infant's body. It had been years since he taught a class. He missed the feeling.
"Those who thrice defied you are obviously James and Lily Potter. Not many couples have survived one encounter with you, let alone three. The Longbottoms might have fit, but only Frank thrice defied you. Alice was more a researcher than a warrior, and the prophecy used the plural, not the singular. And Harry, the Potters' boy, was born July 31, compared to Neville's July 30, making the identity of your fate chosen foe even more certain. And you've proved my theory correct when you marked young Harry," he said in a self-congratulatory tone as he traced the dittany covered lightning bolt scar with the Elder Wand.
"And who better to stand against you then yourself?" he asked rhetorically. "You are truly your own equal. I confess that I'm curious what the power you know naught might be," he mused. "Well, time will tell, I'm sure," he said complacently as he dismissed the errant thought.
He saw confusion in the trapped Dark Lord's eyes. He decided to continue Tom's education, even if he'd have no memory of it when he was done.
"I'm going to obliviate you, Tom. I will take every memory you have, every semblance of self, and scour it from your mind, leaving only a blank slate." He saw confidence emerge in the younger wizard's eyes, as his infant tongue struggled to form what he was sure would be defiant words.
Tom had a long history of defiance. It was an unfortunate trait which detracted from his obvious brilliance.
If only he'd been more tractable. What might he have achieved under his guidance. He mourned the loss opportunities resulting from Tom's egregiously misapplied talent.
"Yes, yes. You are a very strong Occlumens," he acknowledged, correctly interpreting the source of Tom's confidence. "But we have hours to accomplish the task and I'm no slouch when it comes to power, as I'm sure you'd agree. More, you are in my seat of power." He gestured about, generally indicating the entirety of Hogwarts. "But most importantly, I have the Elder Wand."
He laughed as Tom's eyes locked on the twirling Death Stick. For the first time since he'd mentioned to the teenage Tom that Hogwarts might close due to the Chamber of Secrets opening, those eyes were infused with terror.
He thought Tom's terror, then and now, was understandable. After all, what sane teenage boy, wizard or not, would want to be returned to an orphanage located in war-time London? The city was being bombed daily by the Luftwaffe. The chances of surviving a blast from a muggle airborne bomb was remote.
Especially as those bombs fell from the sky seemingly randomly. No wizard could continuously maintain a shield. Sooner or later, magical exhaustion would set in and the shield would fall. Then, no matter how strong, that unfortunate wizard would find himself little better than a muggle. No, he fully understood Tom's terror at being forced to return to Wool's Orphanage during the height of the Blitz.
But it felt good to see the terror return to his eyes. He'd crossed wands more than once with his former protege. He'd grown heartily sick of the arrogance and confidence of his once pupil. Which grew by leaps and bounds after every duel he survived with Grindelwald's vanquisher.
Yes, Tom was the stronger wizard. He hated to admit it, but it was true. But Albus Dumbledore was by far the more subtler of the two. And old age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance.
He continued to speak, his blue eyes beginning to glow brighter as he gathered his power. "And when there is nothing left of you, nothing but your soul and your power, I'll find a proper family for you. You'll learn to answer to the name Harry James Potter. The boy you murdered will become your sole existence. Your new home will be an environment that will ensure that you are raised as a self-sacrificing, noble hero. A hero that will fearlessly face a resurgent Lord Voldemort, once you manage to reconstitute yourself a body, as I'm sure you will." He'd never doubted Tom's talent or his ability to inspire the less mentally competent members of the magical world.
He chuckled again at Tom's deepening terror. "Yes, I know of your habit of tearing your soul to create horcruxes. Short sighted and foolish, if you want my opinion. You are a brilliant wizard. You had better than even odds of finding a less perilous path to immortality, if you had only exerted yourself in more benign ways. In alchemy, perhaps." He shook his head regretfully, growing sorrowful as his power continued to gather. "All that potential, wasted." He brightened. "But no matter what happens in your confrontation with yourself, I win. Either this embodiment of you dies or your other self dies. Either way you are weakened at little or no cost to myself, and the Prophecy will be fulfilled."
Realization dawned in his once student's red eyes. "No, wait," the once and future Dark Lord of Britain finally managed to vocalize, finally managing to speak with an infant's underdeveloped vocal cords. Dumbledore was impressed. He'd have thought it would have taken much longer for him to exercise control over the infant's vocal cords. "Wait," he rasped again, with more than a hint of desperation.
"Who knows," Dumbledore continued, "maybe this version of yourself will find redemption." He paused and reflected. "I wonder how that would work, one portion of your soul damned and the other not." He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "The answer to that question will have to wait until you begin your next great adventure, I'm afraid."
Dumbledore placed the tip of the Elder Wand directly between the eyes of the body of infant Harry. Tom must have sensed that he would not be moved as terror faded from his former protege's eyes, and was replaced with rage and malice. "I . . .," he started to say with heat.
Dumbledore didn't give Tom the chance to finish what he wanted to say. He assumed it would be a defiant pledge of vengeance. Tom was a big believer in vengeance, he knew from bitter experience, not that it would do him any good at this point.
He smiled again, his eyes twinkling for the first time since he'd entered the infirmary. "Goodbye, Tom."
"Obliviate."
TDLE
AN: Yes, Harry Potter is dead in this AU. Tom Riddle's completely obliviated consciousness and soul now occupies an infant's body and he'll have to relearn even basic things, such as speech and how to walk (albeit at an advanced rate). Harry Potter is now essentially a walking, talking, completely amnesiac infant Horcrux.
The alternate title to this one shot is 'How Dumbledore Doomed Britain'. I don't envision Albus' plan going well, even if Tom grows up in a happy, loving home. While the scar is not a horcrux, the entirety of Harry's body is. The connection to Voldemort will remain, stronger than ever and only tempered by his time with the Tonks family. Which is where I'd likely place him if I ever continue this- even Dumbledore isn't looney enough to put Riddle's soul in an abusive environment again. He doesn't need two Dark Lord's running around.
The prophecy quoted here is from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
'I love it when a plan comes together' is the common catch phrase of Colonel Hannibal Smith of the A-Team.
'Old age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance' is a quote from David Mamet.