EVERYTHING'S RELEVANT

Part I

Summary: Time is an extremely complicated thing. One little change could cause unforeseen events. Watch what happens when Tom Riddle finds out he does, after all, have enough money to buy himself a butterbeer…

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Any of it. Unfortunately. If I did, do you think Sirius would be dead! As if! It would have been Fudge.

What happened…

It was bloody cold, Tom Riddle thought as he trudged through the snow. Hogwarts had picked a fine day for a Hogsmeade excursion; it was a blizzard so thick you couldn't see more than two feet in front of your eyes. Through the heavy snow, Tom saw the sign for the Three Broomsticks. He paused. He'd love to get a butterbeer- it would warm him up, that was for sure. But he searched his robe pockets and found only a few Knuts. Not nearly enough, even for a small. Sighing heavily, he continued through the snow, to the post office, where he spent the rest of his Hogsmeade visit looking at the various owls.

Inside the pub, Rubeus Hagrid was sitting alone, drinking a pint of mulled mead. Looking up, he noticed that funny stranger in the corner staring at him. He was fairly sure he'd been watching him since Hagrid had sat down. Hagrid shifted uncomfortably.

After a few minutes, the stranger got up. Hagrid stiffened as he sat across from him and regarded him in silence for a few seconds. Then the cloaked stranger spoke. "Do you know what this is, boy?" He showed Hagrid a large egg, round and pale. Hagrid, his curiosity getting the better of him, leaned over for a closer look. "It's a spider egg, boy," he whispered. "But not just any spider."

Hagrid looked at him eagerly. He had always had a love of monsters, the more unique, the better. "What kind of spider?" he asked excitedly.

Under the stranger's hood, Hagrid thought he saw a smile. "Take it and find out," he whispered.

But what if…

It was bloody cold, Tom Riddle thought as he trudged through the snow. Hogwarts had picked a fine day for a Hogsmeade excursion; it was a blizzard so thick you couldn't see more than two feet in front of your eyes. Through the heavy snow, Tom saw the sign for the Three Broomsticks. He paused. He'd love to get a butterbeer- it would warm him up, that was for sure. He searched his robe pockets and found only a few Knuts- not enough. He was about to go on- probably to the post office, to look at the owls- when he remembered that he'd stuck two Sickles in his shirt pocket, under his robes. Smiling broadly, he entered the Three Broomsticks.

Clutching his butterbeer, Tom searched for a table. He spotted Rubeus Hagrid, sitting alone. Tom headed over there. As a prefect, it was his duty to make friends with the younger, lonely students. "Hello, Hagrid," he said heartily. "Mind if I join you?"

No, Hagrid didn't mind. The stranger in the corner had been watching him, and it was starting to unnerve Hagrid. "Have a seat, Tom," he said, smiling at the older boy who was always so nice to him.

The stranger got up and left the pub, and the two boys carried on a meaningless conversation about Hagrid's classes until it was time to return to Hogwarts.

What happened…

After leaving Dippet's office, Tom headed toward the dungeons. There he waited in silence for a long, long time. He brooded over fate's strange twists. His greatest accomplishment, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, had led to the horrible realization that the school very well may be shut down. That was fine with Tom, of course, but not now, not while he was a student. He still needed to gain more knowledge, to gain more power. Then he'd shut down the whole bloody world.

But until then, he needed a scapegoat. And he knew just the one. He had found out about Rubeus Hagrid's little pet a while back, and was saving the knowledge for the perfect moment. Which was now.

But what if…

Tom ground his teeth in frustration. They couldn't shut down the school now! Not while he had so much to learn!

Tom leaned against the wall after leaving Dippet's office. He wished he could do something to convince everyone that the attacks were over for good, maybe frame some bungling first year, but he couldn't think of a way to make it obvious. He supposed he would have to just stop the attacks, and let everyone think the danger had come on down. He couldn't let them close the school down now. But after he had become the most powerful wizard in the world… then, he'd close the school for good.

What happened…

Hagrid burst into the Potter's house, currently in shambles. He heard the baby wailing, which made it easy for him to find Harry.

He was leaving with the poor baby when Sirius Black, the Potter's best friend, came pulling up on his motorbike. Black was pale and shaking and looked on the edge of a breakdown. They looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Hagrid reached out a hand and placed it on Black's shoulder.

Black swallowed hard and blinked very fast a few times. "Hagrid…"

"Horrible, it is," Hagrid said roughly.

Black noticed the bundle in Hagrid's arms. "Harry?" he asked softly, looking closer. "Gods, how did he survive?"

Hagrid looked at Harry also, not knowing what to say. "Give Harry to me, Hagrid," Black said shakily. "I'm his godfather, I'll look after him."

Hagrid considered it- after all, Black was Harry's legal guardian. But he'd had strict orders from Dumbledore. After a long debate, Black finally gave Hagrid his motorbike and told him to take good care of Harry. Hagrid thanked Black and roared off into the night.

And thus Harry came to live with the Dursley's, and have the life we all know.

But what if…

Dumbledore sent the gamekeeper to fetch Harry from the Potter's ruined house. Foster had been gamekeeper for almost forty years now, and Dumbledore felt he could trust him, but he was worried nonetheless. He and Minerva McGonagall waited anxiously on Privet Drive for Foster for almost an hour before the roaring of a motorcycle interrupted the quiet street. Foster, the baby Harry, and Sirius Black landed in front of them.

Dumbledore shot a look at Sirius. One look told him that Black hadn't been the Potter's Secret-Keeper after all. Black met his gaze tiredly. "It was Peter," he murmured. "I convinced them to switch… why would Voldemort go after Peter? But he… he…"

"Sirius, it's okay," Dumbledore said. Minerva's face sagged. She helped Black off the motorbike, and he collapsed onto the curb, face in his hands.

"Peter?" Minerva whispered. "Peter did this?"

Foster climbed off the motorbike, Harry in his arms. "I convinced Sirius to come with me, Headmaster," he told Dumbledore. "He was so upset, I didn't want to leave him alone. Also, he wants to take care of Harry."

At this, Sirius looked up. "He's my godson," he croaked, rising to his feet. "I have a responsibility toward him."

Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius, I want Harry to stay with his relatives. You know he has to. He'll be safe there… sheltered…"

Black shook his head. "No… he's my godson… I can't desert him."

Minerva spoke up. "Dumbledore…" she said hesitantly. "Dumbledore, you want Harry to stay here? With these Muggles?"

Sirius clenched his teeth. "Dumbledore, you know I respect your opinions, but I am Harry's legal guardian. Let me take care of him… for James…" he looked pleadingly at his former headmaster.

Dumbledore remained silent for a while. "Sirius…"

But Black had made up his mind, and Dumbledore had no choice but to give in. He couldn't perform the ancient magic that ensured Harry protection with his relatives, but he did perform many spells that ensured Harry remained safe. And when he went off to Hogwarts at age eleven, he was very different from the Harry Potter we know.

*See what one little thing can do?

A/N Sooo… is it good? I think it's really interesting to think about. But then again, I might just think too much. Review, please!