Summary: A thoroughly impossible freak accident transports our favorite attractive psychopath forward in time from 1942 to 1996. Harry Potter/Tom Riddle slash. Time for Dumbledore to fix everything – or not.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, or any other people, places or objects that may appear in this humble work of fiction.
Warnings: Possible spoilers up to the fifth book. M/M, obviously. Rating is down as T for now but may, possibly, increase to M as things progress.
Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews! The last chapter was especially challenging to write. Still no Tom/Harry interaction, but be patient, it is coming.

Chapter Five: An Old Man's Interregnum

'Get Dumbledore,' Harry said hoarsely, his eyes never leaving the young man lying, bleeding, in the middle of the mess of crystal pieces. He heard the clicking of Trelawney's shoes as she walked quickly toward the trapdoor and then heard it slam behind her. After that, the room was silent, save for the shock pounding in Harry's temples.

When the crystal broke, there had been a flash, a thousand tiny crystals refracting light at once to the same spot, and Harry had been thrown forcefully across the room, to the ground. Then he had appeared in the light, lying on the floor.

Harry recalled standing and advancing. When he had seen the dark hair, he had raised his wand, feeling silly for it at first. It was an Apparition accident; it was a student lying there, face down, on the floor, an ordinary student who was probably cut all to pieces, and he should be calling Madam Pomfrey, not walking forward with his wand raised like a paranoid nutter. But then the boy had come alive; he had tried to rise, but slipped, and Harry had caught a glimpse of a Slytherin badge. When the stranger tried to rise again and made it to his knees, Harry was right above him, just out of arm's reach; the boy looked up, and Harry recognized him at once, even through the blood all over the boy's face. Then Harry had done the first thing that came to his head:

'Stupefy!' he had gasped, barely managing to say the incantation correctly in his shock. It had done the trick; the boy slumped back down and crashed to the floor.

Now, with Trelawney off to fetch Dumbledore, Harry continued to stare at the boy on the floor, his eyes and his wand never leaving his target. He felt exhausted and a little sick, even though hardly anything had happened at all, by Harry's standards. His stomach was in knots.

How did it happen? Harry's mind kept screaming. Is it Voldemort, the real Voldemort, or is it like his diary? Did he store his memories in it? Trelawney had said that Seeing Crystals didn't store memories, but showed the 'true past,' whatever that meant. He couldn't put much faith in what she said. Dumbledore will know, he chanted to himself. Dumbledore will have some explanation.

A while later – Harry couldn't tell how long it was – he heard the trapdoor open again, and a woman's voice speaking frantically, coming closer. Two sets of footsteps walked over to him, but he kept his attention on Riddle until he felt a strong hand grab his shoulder. He turned to face Dumbledore, whose gaze was fixated on the unconscious boy with one of the gravest expressions Harry had ever seen on his face.

'Professor?' he rasped.

'Should I summon Madam Pomfrey, Headmaster?' asked Trelawney.

'No, that won't be necessary,' Dumbledore replied. 'Mobilicorpus.'

Riddle's body rose off the ground, leaving a small puddle of blood in its wake, much of it staining the tiny, sharp crystals.

'Harry, I would like for you to wait in my office. The password is 'ice mice'.' Dumbledore said quietly. Harry, not particularly keen on letting Riddle leave his sight, but feeling that there was no one better to trust him with than Dumbledore, nodded and walked to the trapdoor.

The door shut behind him. Harry walked through the corridors in a daze, glad not to meet anyone he knew as he walked toward Dumbledore's office. He reached the statue of the gargoyle on the second floor, spoke the password, and went up the stairs.

Tom woke slowly, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of a white ceiling and light streaking in through the curtains around his bed. He was in the Hospital Wing. He pressed his hand to his face and, removing and inspecting it, saw there was no blood. His injuries were already healed.

He sat up slowly, feeling a slight pang in his head as he did so, but not enough to discourage him. He looked through the curtains to his right and saw the silhouette of a man sitting beside him. If Tom could see him, then he could probably see Tom, too.

Indeed, the man rose from his chair and opened the curtains. Tom blinked a few times as light came streaming through, and when he could see clearly again, he couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath of surprise.

Standing beside him was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Tom couldn't waste time wondering why the Head of Gryffindor was waiting for him to wake, because he was too preoccupied with wondering how Dumbledore had grown a foot of beard since the start-of-year feast the night before, why said beard was entirely white, along with his hair, and why he was giving Tom such an absolutely murderous look. Tom couldn't help being a bit frightened; he had never seen Dumbledore look so angry at anyone.

'Professor,' he said slowly.

'Mr. Riddle. I would say that it is a pleasure to see you again, but that would be a complete lie, and I believe we are above such pleasantries,' Dumbledore said, with a smile twisting his lips that didn't look at all friendly to Tom.

'I would wonder what I have done to deserve such an impolite greeting,' he replied, keeping his face impassive. His eyes were fixed on Dumbledore's and he was wondering where his wand had got to.

'Your wand, Mr. Riddle, is in my care,' Dumbledore said. Tom mentally kicked himself and turned his eyes away abruptly. Legilimens, Tom, he's a Legilimens! Why don't you just tell him outright that he's making you nervous!

'I see,' he said, trying to keep his voice steady, his usual smile fighting to return to his face. 'I suppose I ought to get back to class.' Tom threw the sheet off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Dumbledore, however, was standing too close to Tom for him to stand up.

'Aren't you curious about what happened to you?'

'Not particularly, sir,' Tom said from behind clenched teeth.

'Then allow me to enlighten you.' Dumbledore then made to sit down, and Tom was forced to make room for him if he didn't want to get sat on. Dumbledore stared across the room as he spoke. 'You may have noticed that I look a bit older than you remember me.'

'Your appearance is of no concern to me,' Tom said, with more of a bite to his tone than he had intended.

'No, I suppose it is not. What is the last thing you remember before waking?'

'I remember clearly someone hitting me with a Stunner,' he said angrily. He was losing his patience with Dumbledore, and even if he did take off points for cheek, Tom could always make it up later by answering questions in class. 'If you wouldn't mind telling me who it was, I'm quite eager to return the favor.'

'You will not be harming any student in any way!' Dumbledore said ferociously, turning towards Tom and fixing him with that same angry stare he had come in with. Tom forced himself to look away again, lest Dumbledore read his mind, but Dumbledore grabbed his jaw and forced him to look up. 'I want to know what occurred before that moment, and if you will not tell me willingly, I will force it out of you. I am not here to play games of any kind with you. Your fate is dependent entirely upon how well you cooperate with me. Is that absolutely clear, Mr. Riddle?'

Tom wanted to say something, something like 'You can't do this to me!' or 'I'll tell the Headmaster about this!' or a combination of the two, but Dumbledore was looking at him in such a way that all he could do was gulp and nod, looking away as Dumbledore released him. He hadn't been this scared since he'd been a small child in the orphanage, and he didn't like the feeling at all. Had Dumbledore found out about what had happened last year?

Tom recounted the story of what had occurred during lunch hour: how he had brought the artifact to the North Tower and touched it, and how he had ended up lying on the floor with a boy pointing a wand at him. Dumbledore asked him a few questions, prodding him to go into greater detail, but there really wasn't much else to tell, and he could see that Dumbledore still wasn't satisfied.

'I swear, sir, that's all I know,' he said solemnly at the end of it. He looked up at Dumbledore, who had been staring down at him the whole time as he spoke to the Professor's armpit. Their eyes met briefly, and Dumbledore sighed, turning away.

'I see that you have told me everything you can, and I thank you for your cooperation,' he said stiffly. 'However, I am not very happy with the answer.'

'Why, sir?' Tom asked before he could stop himself.

'Because, Tom, you are currently in the year 1996, and there is no way to put you back.'

Iskjif: I think you might understand that last part better now that I've put in dates. It wasn't a mistake that I put Tom in both of the ending segments :)

Shattered Diamond: I don't imagine Voldemort would remember, as it happened a long time ago and wasn't very memorable on his end, but more on that later!