Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says that he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to 'a perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war, he misses it.

So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind him. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him.

Chapter Four

The Sorting: Of Students and Situations (there might have been a snake involved)

"Potter, James!" Harry watched nervously as James was sorted- he was next. With a loud shout, the Hat announced Gryffindor, and James swaggered for the red and gold table. Professor McGonagall (who, when taking in the appearance of him, Sirius, James, and Peter, scowled and muttered a drying charm while giving one of her infamous speeches on irresponsibility and stupidity) glanced down to the sheet of names once more, and Harry saw her eyes widen just slightly. A thoughtful look took over her face.

"Riddle, Hadrian." Harry walked with purpose, not pompousness, to the crooked stool. His heart was thumping. He didn't have anything against Slytherin house or its traits- just the people within sickened him. Oh, and he happened to piss off a large section of them on the station, which really wouldn't do his credit any favors. I'll be fine, I'll be fine, he chanted in his head. Before he knew it, the tattered black brim of the Hat slid over his eyes. He had to admit though, he was enjoying how no whispers had broke out when his name was called, like when he was Harry Potter.

"Mr. Riddle, let me see...

Oh! Mr. Potter... How sly of you. You are certainly- certainly clever- have ambition for yourself and will do anything to achieve your ends. Not unlike the Tom Riddle I had conversed with but a few years ago. Before Harry could protest (or scoff, Riddle's sorting was so not 'a few years ago') that he didn't belong in Slytherin (because it was clear where the Hat was going with this), the Hat spoke again. But you have heart, Mr. Potter. A brave, chivalrous heart. You've just buried it for a while. You want happiness, because despite reaching your ends- you didn't feel complete. I hope you all of luck in-

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry grinned at a hooting James and Sirius, but felt odd after the Hat's words. He knew the Hat wouldn't tell anyone who he really was, that wasn't the issue. It had seemed the Hat was sad to put him in Gryffindor- he had a feeling the Hat was just as disappointed with this generation's Slytherins as Harry.

He glanced to the silver and green table, to find the sixth (or seventh) year from earlier practically rolling his eyes with a look that plainly read, 'of course he'd be in Gryffindor'. Harry made eye contact and, feeling particularly dangerous, winked.

Live life while you can, right?

And looking at the older Slytherin from across the room, that wouldn't be long.

He had forgotten how wild Gryffindor parties could be, and now wasn't sure how he ever did.

Perhaps things were more 'party-er' in the 1970s? Who knows. Harry enjoyed it though, as Harry Potter he has been to busy fighting evil and after the war everyone sort of drifted apart. No time for parties, really.

And, as he gazed over the dim Common Room, Harry decided that was a downright shame. James and Sirius had their arms on each other's shoulders and were standing on a desk, swaying from side to side singing some unrecognizable (to Harry) wizard tune. It was slow and sweet and oddly romantic. The best part was how they sang it with straight faces.

A red haired girl was scowling at James who had yanked her to her feet and spun her around. Lily. Harry smiled nostalgicly at the beginning of a rivalry that once upon a time ended in love. Some students whooped.

"Shake, shake! Awoooooo-"

Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he made his way toward the stairs that would lead to the boys' dormitory. As much as he loved watching his godfather and father in their element- he hadn't slept in a week or possibly longer.

A lot of preparation had gone into making his little trip possible. When he did nap he was talking with Dumbledore in that odd dreamscape place, which always gave him more to think about, which meant more headaches that prevented him from sleeping. The endless cycle.

And, of course, he wanted to see how else his appearance had changed besides from fixed vision in the dormitory bathroom.

The stairs seemed a million miles long, but finally Harry struggled to the top and stumbled blearily into the bathroom. His sleep deprivation was catching up to him.

Rubbing again at his eyes, Harry then gripped the edges of of the sink to steady himself before raising his head to stare into the mirror. It was then he realized how literally the spell had taken his words.

His eyes still shined like a Killing curse, an unearthly green. His skin was pale but not waxen, on a sharp cut face. His hair was somewhat the same deep midnight-black, but now if the light hit it a certain way, it was streaked with...light browns? Odd hair. And instead of the Potter trademark mess... his hair was sculpted and refined with the slightest of a curl on the ends.

In other wording, he was a darker-haired, green-eyed, smaller-framed, paler Tom Riddle. The spell had taken him very, very literally, it seemed... How in the world did he have such a coincidence?! Riddle, that same orphanage (at the very least one terribly identical), and how. he. looked. It was getting a little absurd. At least he wasn't identical to what he could remember of teen Tom Riddle, but it was cutting it too close. Something was up.

Harry would have probably screamed in horror at his features (and their Tom-Riddleness) if it wasn't for the fact he was exhausted. So, with resignment to his fate, Hadrian crawled into his bed, the one by the window, as it had been back when he first attended Hogwarts.

He fell asleep to the distant shouts of his raucous fellow housemates, and muffled music.

GAHHH! With a snort, Harry tumbled from his bed and ended up tangled in the sheets he had dragged down with him. Ignoring his undignified awakening, he climbed precariously to his feet, still wrapped from head to toe in cloth.

"Who the hell, sets an alarm for FOUR IN THE BLOODY MORNING!" James, in the bed next to Harry, groaned and pulled his pillow over his face, mumbling something that sounding suspiciously like 'who shouts at four in the morning'.

Harry ignored that too, in favor of glaring at the auburn-haired student whom had meekly raised his hand from the other side of the room. "Next time," he growled, "put a Silencing Charm around your bed so you don't make the rest of the house go deaf along with you." The boy nodded quickly. Harry started yanking at the sheets he was encased in aggravatedly. "Don't even have classes today," he muttered quietly.

The boy heard though, and turned scarlet. The rest of the dorm glared at him, all equally annoyed by the wake up. James just pressed the pillow into his face harder- if that was possible.

Later, Harry would realize why the boy with the early alarm seemed familiar- now he just dived back into his mattress with a contented sigh. All too soon though, the sun's rays were glaring through the window and breakfast time was upon him.

He pulled a reluctant James and Sirius to the Common Room with him, and they all started to trudge down towards the Hall with a few other stray groups of students.

They never made it there.

"AHHHH!" Came the shrill-ish scream. " IT'S ON THE STAIRS!" Harry rolled his eyes while simultaneously wincing at the loud voice. He turned the corner with James and Sirius and headed for the last staircase to the Great Hall, where the supposed beast was. James hung back a bit.

"Wait," he said uncomfortably, "what if there is a- a thing? It could be- you know- poisonous animal or something like that." Sirius looked to concur with that statement, and so Harry was surprised when he didn't move from his side. It seemed like he had made a friend in the Black heir.

"James, even if it were poisonous, we're wizards. We can do magic, 'member? If it's so bothersome, someone could just vanish it. Now where's that Gryffindor fearlessness gone?" Harry said it all lightly and slightly teasing, which James responded well to. He stepped forward and dramatically thrust out his chest. Then, flexing his scrawny arms, he said-

"Let that thing try and touch all this." Harry and Sirius slyly glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They couldn't help it.

They burst out out into loud guffaws, and clutched their sides in breathlessness. James looked a tiny amount offended.

"It's not that funny," he protested. Sirius pushed himself upwards on the hallway's wall for support and gasped out-

"Yes-it-is." When James went looking to Harry for back up all he got was a swift shake of the head no. Pouting, James folded his arms and began to walk away in a spiff. Harry and Sirius followed, still holding their stomachs and sputtering incoherently. As the three walked down the stairs, Harry turned to James.

"See, I told you there probably wasn't a-" Harry's next words were forever lost as a hissing, spitting something propelled itself onto his face. He pulled at it, stumbling around and trying to avoid being bitten by its sharp teeth.

So, maybe there was a beast.

Just maybe.

And, maybe, it was attached to Harry's face.

A scaly body whipped Harry's neck with strength, and he realized what had propelled itself onto his face.

A snake. Great.

He heard a voice snarl, Defend! Defend! and Harry thought the most horrifying thought of all. Had time and universe travel somehow given him back the soul piece of Voldemort? That was the most logical explanation for the reason of why Harry could suddenly understand Parseltongue again. In his confusion and whirling train of thoughts Harry opened his mouth, forgetting the James and Sirius were there.

Be still, I mean you no harm. The snake shifted so quickly Harry almost missed it. Instead of trying to embed its teeth into Harry, it was now wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Like a terrifying and over-grown pet.

While Harry had forgotten the existence of Sirius and James, they had not forgotten him.

"You just hissed at it," James said lowly, "and it... stopped trying to eat your face...

Are you a- well can you- did you re- was that Parseltongue?" He tripped over his words, staring at Harry hoping for a denial, clearly. Harry nodded slowly, well aware of the snake still around his shoulders. James stepped away, and asked quietly, "Do you make it attack?" Harry was quick to reply.

"No, never. I didn't even know I could speak to snakes until now. I know though, of the bad rap Parselmouths are given. Will you tell anyone?" James appeared to gather himself together, then have an internal debate. Finally he spoke.

"No, never." He parroted slowly. "I don't think you would really... hurt anybody. Besides, why would I sell out my first friend at Hogwarts? It's not like I've said anything about the train." Harry was touched, and surprised though he didn't show it. James considered them friends? After a ride of the Express, and a night's rest? His father was very trusting, innocent. God, Harry wished he still had that part of himself.

"What about the train?" Sirius inquired, eyes eager. "Oh, yeah, I won't say anything either. I grew up being taught that Parseltongue was, like, a sacred gift. Anyway, what can you really do in Parseltongue? Talking to snakes doesn't make them your slaves or anything." Harry took in his godfather's naivety with a grin. Parseltongue meant Parsel Magic which was extremely powerful and that, yes, you could control snakes as slaves. But Sirius' version worked so much better for Harry.

Both him and James ignored Sirius' question about the train.

"So," he said, "ready to eat?" Sirius and James exchanged looks.

"Uh," James began, "you have a snake on your shoulders." Harry nearly smacked himself. Duh.

May you, hm, please come off me? The snake dipped its head respectfully and slithered down his body to the floor. As it made its way to the other side of the staircase, Harry heard a voice drift from below them.

"Still haven't found my luggage, sir... " Harry immediately looked to the large, Pythonic snake making its way calmly away as the footsteps of one Lucius Malfoy and some adult came closer and closer. Before he could move, an angry, haggard face was in his.

"Where are my bags? I've searched all night, nothing. So tell me where they are!" Harry was about to reply in a perfectly polite manner, but a hissing, spitting something had launched itself onto Malfoy's face.

The snake.

Dear Merlin above.

Its mantra was different this time. Defend! The castle and the speaker! Defend! Malfoy had nearly shrieked his head off, had lost all composure. Slughorn, the adult that had been with Malfoy, was shouting with his wand in the air.

"Stay still, boy, so I can get rid of it!" James leaned towards Harry.

"Um, shouldn't you tell it to stop?" Both Harry and Sirius replied happily.

"Nah."

And when all was looking up as they watched in awe, a clipped voice spoke from behind them.

"Evanseco." It was Professor McGonagall. "All of you to my office." The stern Professor demanded, with a disappointed glance in her Lions' direction. Harry, Sirius, James, Malfoy, and Slughorn started to follow.

"Not you, Horace." She scolded the other teacher. The round man smiled and said 'silly me', but Harry was sure he didn't imagine the relieved smile on his face.

Harry sighed as his stomach rumbled, and Malfoy shot him a dirty look that promised pain.

A great start to a great year, right?