This fic was brought to you by a stray plotline from because-i-got-high's aparitions. so i'm sorry if you think i just stole this, as it was really just my imajination getting away from me, and i'm really just too inpatient to wait for the next chapter. the story id for the story i got this story from is 2185871. i read through chapter 7 before i started this fic.actually, this is nothing like it really, but its something that gave me the idea.

Warnings..Deep man. time travel(sorta)

Rating...PG-13

.o.O

My name is irrelevant.you think you know me. most people in the wizarding world do. they say look at that boy. He's my hero. The savior of the Wizarding world. The Boy Who Lived. The Matyr. The pawn. People have many names for me. but nobody knows me. Even those who think they do. I'm always guarded. I've always guarded myself. There is alot in what i say. People just don't hear it.

I look in the mirror. i see a shadow. A wasted being that wants to die, but remains alive out of spite for others. I see weary eyes that belong to a troubled soul. I see a boy that never had a boyhood.I see a man of lost innocence, A grown child.

I probably don't make any sense i suppose. Although, i don't suppose anyone makes any sense when they mumble to themselves. Is it not troubling that i find so much comfort in the thought that i can still talk? that i can communicate my own opinion ocasionally? Some say that talking to yourself is the first sign of your insanity. I say that i do not suffer from insanity, but revel in it.

Voldemort understood it. He reveled in his insanity. Just like bellatrix. They mocked me with what i could become.I could not stand it.I killed them.

one must die by the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

it's exactly how it happened, I watched his eyes film over, heard the sounds of him choking on his own fluids as my hand crushed his windpipe.While he was still alive, i buried the hilt of Gryffindor's sword into his heart. It turned black-the sword that is- from his reviled soul. As soon as i pulled it back out, he still lived, but not as voldemort. As tom. there was no glint in his eyes, there was no scaly skin. He was no monster then, on his last breath. He was human. By the time realization had set in, Tom had thanked me and slipped into oblivion.

I went to Dumbledore then, and he told me. I had killed an innocent. And not just any innocent, the last member of my family.My Grandfather. A cursed soul, who had been held prizoner by the evil and wretched Lord Grindlewald.I cried then, for what, i'm not sure, but i did. that is when i saw them.