A/N: Still don't own Naruto or Harry Potter.


Chapter 2: Molting

12thFebruary 1939

The skies were a beautiful shade of blue, and the grass was a fresh green. Orochimaru was sprawled casually against one of the many trees at training ground 3, with a scroll in hand detailing a very fascinating Suiton Jutsu that made the attack sharp enough to spear the enemy. It was easily a B-rank, if not an A-rank Jutsu. He had arrived 2 days ago from a solo ANBU mission. Danzo-Sama had him conscripted in Ne, and though he was weary of the man, Sarutobi- sensei had allowed it. He knew it was not going to be long before he was sent out again.

Konohagakure no sato had to be ready for war since the unofficial declaration had already been made. It was only small skirmishes here and there, and mostly work had just entailed border patrol but that's how all wars started. Orochimaru had manned an outpost with his mouth curved in a frown while they waited out the hell that was going on in Ame; a dispute between Iwa and Suna.

Orochimaru sighed. All of that might change soon though. Sensei had yet to come back from Uzushiogakure with his contingent. For all he knew, the battle was still on-going, but it was quite unlikely with sensei there. The Hokage really shouldn't be out of the village for this long.

But Sarutobi sensei was hardly going to ignore the call for arms from their allies, let alone a call for arms from their sister village.

He was dragged out of his musings quite rudely when a smoke bomb came flying at his head. His eyes widened and he ducked expertly, coughing when purple glitter exploded all around him.

"Jiraiya, you absolute fucking excuse for a ninja!" He seethed; his long, shiny hair now riddled with glitter. The smoke cleared to reveal the twinkling eyes of his grinning teammate standing with his legs apart and hands on his waist.

"Oro-teme" he boomed; his teeth were sparkling. "You never even swung by to say you're back, what the fuck?"

Orochimaru grimaced.

"Jiraiya, you can't really expect me to announce my arrival every damn time-"

"Of course, you have to", Came the steady voice of his third team-mate.

Oh great, now he's done for.

Tsunade was leaning against a tree, frowning. "You know, you have to come to me for a checkup. I've told you so many times because you despise going to the hospital...".

"Yes, Tsunade-hime," Orochimaru ducked his head when she made her way to him and ran a diagnostic jutsu.

"Stop calling me a princess," she chastised him, causing him to quirk his lips. "How long since you've been back?" her lips were pursed.

He eyed her wearily. "Two days-"

"TWO DAYS?!" Her hand was flying in an arc to give him a resounding slap on his head. "You have a bruised chest and a hairline fracture!"

"And now a concussion," Orochimaru muttered.

" What was that ?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said quickly, glaring at Jiraiya who was snickering in the background.

"You better run, dobe," he smiled ominously. "And you better pray to Kami this glitter washes out in one go."

Jiraiya gulped.

Before he could respond though, the sound of a huge gong sounded thrice, ripping through the village. Their heads snapped up in unison.

Tsunade wrapped up quickly and they made their way to the Hokage Mountain in unspoken agreement, their faces grim.

They arrived on the tail-end of a short missive by Sensei whose message was quite clear. Orochimaru grabbed Tsunade by her waist when her legs buckled.

Uzushiogakure had fallen. They were officially at war.

Behind Sensei, the council advisors stood, their expressions grave. Danzo-sama's face was unreadable. Feeling eyes on him, the cripple caught his gaze and gave him a nod, and Orochimaru struggled to appear stoic just as a cold sensation ran down his spine.


1st September 1938

Tom made his way to the crimson steam engine. 9 and 3 Quarters . Ridiculous! Wizards have an odd sense of humor.

Tom bought all that he needed on time, despite the lack of guidance. Though everything was second hand, he thought with a grimace.

His most prized possession though, was his wand. A 13 and a half inches long white beauty, crafted from yew, and affixed with a phoenix feather core. More importantly it was brand new, and absolutely his!

He quickly made his way to an empty compartment and sat down, staring outside in disgust at the tearful goodbyes all around the platform. Pulling a book out of his handbag, he was just about to begin reading when the door slid open to reveal a confident girl with long braided, red hair.

"Hullo! Who are you?" She asked in a heavily accented Scottish brogue.

Should've latched the damn door , he thought in irritation. Might as well make a good impression. New beginnings and all that rot.

"Tom Riddle," he said, holding out his hand. "And you are?"

"Minerva McGonagall," she said, proudly shaking his hand vigorously. "I don't think I have heard of the Riddles before."

Tom stiffened minutely.

"What do you mean-"

"I do not care if you are muggleborn. You are muggleborn, aren't you?"

"No idea," Tom shrugged. "I was born in the orphanage."

"Oh, you're one of those, " she said, eyeing him knowingly.

"One of what, exactly?" Tom was instantly on the defensive.

"Oh, you know," she waved her hand vaguely as she sat down.

Tom continued to stare at her, a little suspicious. "No, Miss McGonagall, I'm not a bastard." he said finally. Minerva turned a very fascinating shade of red.

"I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. My mouth gets ahead of me sometimes."

Tom looked at her, a little impressed. Despite her brash mannerisms, she was surprisingly eloquent for a child. I should keep a lookout for her in the future.

"That's alright," He decided to give her a way out. "Does it matter that I am muggleborn?"

From what he had heard at Diagon Alley, it did seem to matter. Some families considered them interlopers in this society. Especially with the war on the horizon.

"No, of course not!" she blurted out, quite self-righteously. "Our family is an old one from Scotland, but we never cared for the blood purity!"She leaned in a little close, as if she was sharing a secret. "It is the Slytherins you must look out for," she said, wide-eyed.

"Well," Tom wasn't convinced. "From what I've read, I'm probably best suited for the Slytherin House," he waved his copy of Hogwarts a History lightly. It was literally the only book he bought out of syllabus, and only because it had a heavy discount.

The girl gasped in horror. "We can't be friends then!"

Not that Tom was even considering the prospect. But he decided to bite.

"Why ever not?"

"Well, I'm definitely going into Gryffindor."

"Is that right?" Tom was amused by the utter stupidity of that statement. "I guess that's that then."

Tom proceeded to turn away, open his book, and start reading, quite pointedly ignoring the sputtering red-haired girl.

Minerva stood up, looking confused for a second, before she huffed, very agitatedly lifting her trunk in the section above and sitting down opposite to him.

Tom looked up slowly after a minute, as if just realizing she was still there.

Minerva had her arms crossed in front of her chest and was staring at him.

"I'm not in Gryffindor yet!" she said snidely.

And he gave her one of his signature charming smiles. Her cheeks turned pink. "So tell me more about what you know about muggleborns. "


10th September 1939

Tom did, in fact, end up in Slytherin, and Minerva was proven right about how dysfunctional his current house was.

The children of the house were entitled little brats, surfing on the coattails of their politically connected fathers. He did not begrudge them though. He too would have taken complete advantage of the situation if he were born into an influential family.

But he could not, in his good conscience, pardon his class-mates for their utter disregard of him. It began in Professor Slughorn's class. Up until that point, he did not have much interaction with them. He hadn't even tried to do overly well in the classroom. Keeping a low profile had been a perfectly good tactic.

He slept in the same dorm as Malfoy, Avery, Nott, Lestrange and Rosier, and not once had they deigned to acknowledge his presence. It was as if they had collectively and non-verbally decided to treat him worse than the muck stuck to the sole of his shoe. As was customary, he took to sitting at the front of the class. He sat alone, resigned while the professor doted on Malfoy. His Grand Uncle had taken up the dangerous project of rearing Abraxans, and as a consequence, Malfoy sat tall, perfectly at ease with boasting unsubtly about achievements that he really shouldn't take any credit for. Tom felt a twinge of resentment. This was how he should've grown up. Not for the Abraxans, but to learn the diplomatic façade the purebloods exhibited, to command a room with his mere presence just because his damn uncle got new fucking hobby.

Slughorn made it to the front of the class finally. He began the introduction to a shrinking potion, and quickly told them to begin.

"Oh, Mr. Riddle, was it?" Asked Slughorn, spotting him a good forty minutes into the lesson. His potion was nearly done.

"Yes, professor" Tom smiled genially. He slowly stirred clockwise twice to finish. Slughorn peered into his potion.

"Oh-ho!" Slughorn boomed, ecstatic. " This is a perfect ochre for the shrinking potion! On your first try too! Tell me, did you learn from a guardian?"

"Oh no, professor," Tom demurred. Then jealousy reared its ugly head. "This is my first time."

"A potion genius!" Slughorn was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet now.

"Tell me Tom, what would happen if you stirred 10 times clockwise and 2 times anticlockwise?"

"The shrinking potion would be rendered poisonous, Professor. The biggest precaution of the shrinking potion is to stir accurately. It is 7 times anticlockwise and 6 times clockwise exactly."

"Correct! And what is the antidote to this potion?"

"… The Un-shrinking Potion?" Tom wanted to sink into a hole and die.

What was up with the Wizarding World and absolutely unoriginal names , he moaned, as the lesson wrapped up.

Tom quickly packed and left the classroom, intent on dropping his bag off in his dormitory.

"An eye for an eye," he said, calling out the password for the common room, almost rolling his eyes at the dramatics of all of it.

He stopped suddenly, faced with at least half of the common room. His dorm-mates were standing in a line in the front. Avery stepped forwards.

"Tom Riddle," he sneered. "The insult of having a mudblood in our midst was enough for us to look the other way even though the older students beguiled us to put you in your place."

Tom raised an eyebrow. They told them to do what?!

"As it stands, we can no longer allow you to your delusions."

Tom's other eyebrow joined his first.

And then it suddenly clicked.

"You do not want me to surpass you?" Tom was incredulous. He was also bubbling hysterically with laughter. What could a bunch of eleven year olds possibly do?

Unless, the older students joined in , he thought darkly.

Avery did not respond. His dorm-mate though, had come prepared.

"Stupefy!" Avery yelled with his wand pointing at him.

Only ten maddening years at the orphanage gave him the experience to throw himself out of the way as fast as he did.

Tom's eyebrow twitched. This was an ambush. Despite the fact that Avery couldn't execute it properly, Stupefy was a third year spell.. They wanted a public show, of putting the new... mudblood - and what an unoriginal word- in his place.

Humph. A public showing they want?

A public showing they will get.

Tom smiled a small smile and something in it made Avery step back in line.

"Perhaps, it is your delusions that must be corrected," he said softly.

Tom didn't know any offensive spells yet, he'd mostly read them in books. So he held out his hand and... Flicked.

A gust of wind generated at his feet and Avery was flung violently to the far side of the room, and he smashed hard into the wall. A drop of sweat rolled down his spine and Tom made sure he looked perfectly at ease as he looked nonchalantly at the rest of the room. "Anybody else?" His bravado was false. The wandless magic had taken a toll on him, but they didn't need to know.

Wandless magic at his age was practically unheard of, even if he did not have too many spells to go with it. His House mates looked at him wide eyed as he made it up the stairs to his dorm. Malfoy watched him go calculatingly, already recalibrating the new hierarchy and preparing for the shitstorm that was a mudblood usurping them in the next seven years.


3rd September 1939

Hogwarts was disconcertingly somber. A hushed silence pervaded the hallways. Two days into the school year and his dorm-mates were already following him around, trying to gain his favor. "But Tom..." came Avery's whining voice. The boy had changed his tune very quickly. "You don't have to spend time with that muggle-loving fool. She does nothing for you!"

Tom sighed, Merlin, give him patience. "I do not know why it bothers you so; we simply spend time in the library next to each other. How do you suppose she will infect me? With the almighty power of osmosis?"

They looked at him blankly. Tom cursed under his breath and walked on .

"Nevertheless, it does seem prudent to keep a distance with those fools what with the current climate," Abraxas Malfoy said seriously. And he wasn't wrong.

"Where was Lord Grindelwald rumored to be last?" asked Rosier. "Poland," said Nott, who was always surprisingly informed about the where-abouts of the Dark Lord.

"His second in command, Schmidt was last seen in Germany."

"Have there been any more raids?" There were rumors about the mass killing of the muggle race. It was assumed Lord Grindelwald had a hand in it. Tom would eat his stupid, conical hat if Grindelwald didn't have at least an alliance with Hitler.

The wizards did not think of Hitler as a threat. Tom knew better. And till the time he lived in the muggle world where he was not allowed to utilize his magic, he would continue to treat the powers that be as appropriate threats.

Regardless, Grindelwald in Poland made his thoughts come to a halt. "Say, is the Treaty of Versailles the same for Wizards as it is for muggles?" asked Tom. Though he hated looking anything less than all knowing, he had to ask.

Malfoy looked at him curiously. "Yes, of course. Leaders of the Muggle World cannot declare war without the acquiescence of the Wizarding Ministry and vice versa."

Tom paled, with the repercussions of that tit-bit of news running in his mind as he served himself some toast. "And what of France?" He asked.

"What of it?"

"Are they also showing a blind-eye to Hitler's growing army?

"What are you talking ab-?" Malfoy began to say.

Then there was a cacophony of wings and hundreds of owls swarmed into the hall.

An evening post. Tom had clearly had a premonition.

When he read over Malfoy's shoulder, the newspaper did not ease his worries at all.

BRITAIN AT WAR WITH GERMANY. POLAND INVADED. GRINDELWALD AT LARGE.

The Great Hall had become completely quiet. Then a dam broke and a buzz of angry shouts followed.

"SILENCE." thundered Headmaster Dippet. "Hogwarts has stood tall through wars for centuries and will not fall now. No need to fear, dear students. As long as you stay within these walls, the wards shall keep you safe."

There was a murmur of suspicious relief.

Tom did not care for the headmaster's false promises. His mind whirred furiously working what he knew and what he did not. Currently, he was not pleased with the odds.


3rd March 1940

'Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.'

-Alexander Pope

It was around March when it suddenly hit him. Tom was going to be sent back to the muggle world in the midst of all the air raids. A trickle of fear zipped through his spine. This would not do. He abruptly stood, pushing back his chair in the library. "What is it?" Minerva asked him, concerned.

"Nothing. You wait here." Tom said. But something must have shown on his face because Minerva immediately followed him out of the library, keeping up with his relentless pace. She kept blessedly silent as they passed through an empty hallway.

"Incarcerous!" A red light came zipping at Minerva.

"Protego!" Tom reacted and stood in front of Minerva to face their would-be assailant.

"What is this? Of course the Riddle boy would actually try and protect the muggle-lover," jeered one the boys. They looked like upperclassmen.

"You are Slytherin?" noted Tom, almost absently. "..And Hufflepuff?"

He looked at both the boys and realized they were twins. Black , he remembered.

They scowled simultaneously.

"Oh did mummy and daddy not like you going into hufflepuff?" Smirked Minerva, catching on quickly.

Tom wanted to smack his palm into his face. He really needed to teach her some self preservation skills.

Great. The idiot looks angry now.

"Why are you trying to attack us anyway?" said Tom, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Not everyone likes you hanging out with muggle-loving Gryffindor, Riddle," came the reply.

Was he serious?

"… You do know I'm considered a muggleborn and your brother is a Hufflepuff?"

Minerva sniggered.

I clearly have no self preservation either. Tom moaned. My dorm-mates were right, she is contagious. But I will be damned if I stick around these idiots.

Stupidity is contagious too!

Tom nodded decisively.

The Slytherin looked at him angrily and pulled out his wand. "Bloody mudblood shouldn't be in our house any way. "

"Serpensortia!"

Oh come on, now you're just making it fucking easy.

The snake came hissing at them. 'Who dares summon me?'

-gray with a dark zigzag band on the back and spots on the sides - an adder.

'You are majestic, My Lady. What is your name?'

'A speaker!' Tom rolled his eyes. Here we go again.

'Yes, I am, my Lady. I am going to send you back now' he hissed.

'Vipera Evanesca' he intoned, before anyone else could argue.

He turned to look at Black and found him wide eyed and mouth agape.

"What is it? Tom frowned.

"You... you..." The boy stuttered.

Tom found himself being dragged off by mutinous looking Minerva to an empty classroom.

He looked at her angrily, beginning to reprimand her-

"Why didn't you tell me you are a parseltongue?" She looked shell-shocked.

"I'm a what?" asked Tom.

"You can talk to snakes!"

"Yeah, I always could." He said smugly.

"Damn it all to bloody hell. I keep forgetting you don't know certain things, because you didn't grow up here. There is only one family in England that can speak to snakes, Tom!" She looked at him beseechingly.

"It's Salazar Slytherin and his family!"

"What!" Tom's jaw dropped. "Yes! Merlin! You could find the Chamber of secrets if you're really the Heir!" She said excitedly.

"The what?" Tom's mind was running miles a minute. Minerva repeated herself, practically squirming with excitement. "Do you think Black will tell on you? This is huge! Slytherin!"

"No," he said resolutely. "Black might tell the rest of Slytherin but the knowledge won't spread further than that. House politics." He explained.

"If you say so,'' said Minerva with uncertainty.

"Yes," said Tom. "But that means you need to keep quiet about it too."

McGonagall looked like a cat bristling with her tail on end.

"Tom, I'm not going to tell anyone. I am appalled that you had to say it," she said seriously.

Tom only shrugged

"Please go back to the library. I have something to do; I'll be back soon," he told her.

Minerva looked at him sympathetically and agreed without protest this time.

"Alright." She shook her head, muttering something about stupid boys with miraculous abilities. "See you later, Tom"

Tom waited two whole minutes before he headed out to the Headmaster's Office.

He stopped by the gargoyles wondering what to do next when it parted ways to reveal Professor Dumbledore and a crying girl.

"Ah, Myrtle" Dumbledore was saying. "You need to assert yourself- Tom, my boy! What are you doing here?" He peered at Tom over his half moon spectacles.

"I needed to speak with the Headmaster, Professor."

"Is that right? Well then. I shall come with you"

"There's really no need-"

"Nonsense." The Professor said. "Miss Warren was just going back to her common room and I had some business with the Headmaster anyway. You'll be good to go on your own, won't you be, Myrtle?" He said kindly.

Myrtle only nodded tearfully and Tom looked at her curiously as she walked away.

"Come, Tom," Dumbledore led the way up.

Tom felt an odd trepidation going up the stairs with Dumbledore. It was the first time he was alone with the man since that fateful night.

But Dumbledore did not say anything, and all too soon they were seated in front of the headmaster.

"So,." said Headmaster Dippet, after the pleasantries were exchanged. "What seems to be the matter, Mr. Riddle?"

"Sir, as you know, I live in London." He began. "More specifically, I live on the muggle side, in an orphanage..." Tom trailed off, trying to correctly phrase his next line in an appropriately polite request. "Is it... That is to say.. Could I stay here over the summer, Headmaster-"

"Mr. Riddle," The man sighed heavily. "I was afraid you would ask this of me. I am afraid I cannot allow it. I have asked the Board of Governors already, as one other child also came to me with the same request a few years ago. There are some rules to the charter that they just cannot change"

"But sir-"

"Tom, I know what you will be facing," said Dumbledore gently. "Remember, if the worst happens you can always use your magic. You won't be charged, if it is in self defense. But only if it is in self defense" He said seriously.

Tom looked at him incredulously.

"Sir, the situation is more dire than you can possibly imagine-"

"That's enough Mr. Riddle." Headmaster Dippet sternly shut him off.

Tom just watched him, his mouth agape in an uncharacteristically uncouth fashion. He left soon after that, realizing quickly that he won't actually be given a chance to change their minds.

"Was that decision wise, Headmaster?" came Dumbledore's voice from inside.

"I don't know, Albus," Said Headmaster Dippet heavily. " But my hands are tied."


3rd November 1940

'When the lights go on again all over the world
And the boys are home again all over the world
And rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above
A kiss won't mean "Goodbye" but "Hello to love'

-'When the Lights go on again' by Bennie Benjamin, Sol Marcus & Eddie Seiler

Fifty seven. That was the number of days London was bombed continuously by the Luftwaffe. When Tom went home for his so called vacation, the atmosphere had been of death and desolate sadness. Rations were at an all time low and Tom barely got to eat one whole meal in the day. And then the sirens would sound. Tom shuddered at the thought. The orphans were made to walk quickly in long queues to bunkers underground with frantic matrons praying to the lord that they would make it on time. And then... Then there would be a long wait through the night with the sound of airplanes zooming overhead and explosions in the distance, and the children huddling close together for warmth and hoping to God that the ceiling wouldn't fall on the underground and cave them in.

Lightning War, they called it. Tom wouldn't know if that's what it looked like, it's not like he actually wanted to see the explosions. And the wizards were willing to overlook the muggles.

Despite it all, the muggles never dampened their spirits. Come what may, their resolution to make it through the night, to survive, it was admirable. It had become a sense of British Pride; no matter what happened, they would not allow the Nazi to cow them.
Slow melodious singing would echo in the night. Slowly picked up by everybody. Eventually, even Tom knew the lyrics to the songs that would boost their morale.

It was during this time that a Japanese man approached him in the underground. Approach was a strong word. More like the man snuggled next to him for warmth and lack of blankets.

"Hello," Tom said. The man looked at him curiously. "You seem far from home?"

The man laughed and said something in a foreign language. And so Tom slowly began to learn Japanese. It was dull. It was time consuming. But it was now the fourth time this foreign land had come to his attention and now he was really curious.

Suddenly, there was a whistling sound. The following explosion of sound was horrific and the entire tunnel quaked. A child near him whimpered and his bladder let loose. When they were let out in the morning, they were welcomed with the sight of demolished buildings and strewn bodies with red, charred insides- bile rose to his throat.

When the third year at Hogwarts finally began, Tom began to realize just how lucky he was to have a safe haven. A little bit of respite. His own mortality was constantly knocking at the door in the back of his mind. Never had he felt so insignificant. So helpless. While the Luftwaffe had been intermittently targeting them before, after Tom's arrival at Hogwarts, hell began to rain down on the streets of London. For Fifty six of fifty seven days, Hitler had ordered for London to be leveled. Tens of thousands dead. Double that amount mutilated or amputated.

A gnawing feeling of restlessness caused Tom to get up and head to his dormitory. "My friends," Tom said to the room, and all five of them looked at him curiously.

"What do you think about bringing about change?"

A slow grin spread across Avery's face.

"What did you have in mind?"


2nd December 1941

Another stressful summer passed in wartime tension and it looked like Grindelwald had turned his attention to the east.

The man had lost the plot. Didn't he want to slow down and recuperate before attacking again?

It had given Tom a drive to do more than just survive; he wanted to thrive in this climate. So he pushed himself hard.

He was rubbing his hair dry with his towel as he walked out of the shower when he heard his Knights speaking.

"Yes. He was last seen in America. The Newts were involved too." Nott was saying.

"Who was seen in America?" asked Tom, though he had a good idea. Tom had created a study group. They called it the The Knights of Walpurgis. It consisted of politically connected students in his year and above that looked to him for leadership.

"Grindelwald," Nott said, his eyes flickering towards Avery and Malfoy, who had turned a very interesting shade of red as Tom began wiping himself down.

"He was almost caught too! It is rumored he was trying to weaponize an unknown obscurus."

"Is that so?" said Tom intrigued with the possibility. He would have to research that later.

"I did have something to ask you, Rosier," he said, turning to Evan. "Would your uncle be willing to test me early for my OWLS?"

His Knights gaped at him.

"Your OWLS?!" Squeaked Avery.

"Are you certain, Tom?" Abraxas said cautiously. "Taking the OWLs early and not getting through would only earn you a black mark against your name."

Tom looked at them blankly, yet somehow still exuding an air of derision.

"Yes Malfoy, I am certain."

It took two weeks and several favours but Tom was at the Ministry, having floo'ed in directly from Headmaster Dippet's office with a quick 'Good luck!' and a clap on the back.

Tom walked curiously through the entrance of the Ministry. The floor gleamed with green marble; there was a large poster of Minister Leonard Spencer-Moon in an expensive three piece suit and monocle hung at the far end. 1939 - 1948 said a line under it, denoting his years in office.

He is a reliable leader, Tom remembered Abraxas Malfoy telling him. He rose through the ranks from being tea-boy in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. A strong minister who enjoyed a good working relationship with Winston Churchill. A water fountain stood in the center of the atrium depicting Wizarding bigotry with the words 'Magic is Might" written right under it. The whole entrance screamed of power and money.

He made his way through a checkpoint where his wand was unceremoniously logged, and then he was led to an elevator by a kind looking man with a large moustache and a blue robe.

"Good Morning, Mr. Riddle" he greeted Tom amicably. "I'm one of your invigilators, Professor Marche. I heard you would be taking a total of Fourteen OWLS over the following week. Very impressive, if I may say so."

"Thank you, sir" Tom demurred.

He noted the foreign dignitaries running in and out of the elevator as they passed through.

"Seems very busy today, sir," said Tom.

"Ah... yes. The International Floo staff is working double time currently. Hard times ahead." Mr. Marche said vaguely.

Tom tried to get the topic off murky waters. "Is the International Floo different from regular floo?"

"Of course!" Mr. Marche seemed enthused to impart some knowledge. "International floos invariably require hops through other countries and identity checks"

"Oh? So in case we would like to travel to a country in the pacific?"

"You'd have to stop once or twice at least" Mr. Marche nodded."Ah, here you go," Mr. Marche finally led him to the room with some parchment and quill.

"The quill is enchanted with an anti-cheating spell and your theoretical exams will begin shortly. Make sure there is no parchment or spell on you, before we begin..."

Tom smiled genially and settled down.

Three weeks later he sat in the library with Minerva. A silencing spell enveloped them.

"FOURTEEN OWLS!" God Minerva was loud. "FOURTEEN OWLS. AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN THINK TO MENTION THIS TO ME BEFORE NOW? WE HAVE BEEN STUDYING TOGETHER FOR THE PAST, OH I DON'T KNOW, FOUR YEARS AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN-"

"Minerva," Tom cut her off. "I read extra material all the time."

It was true. Even now he was reading a carefully concealed book called Secrets of the Darkest Arts.

'The first known horcrux was created by Herpo the Foul in Ancient Greece ... .'

He quickly displaced the book so his attention was on Minerva.

"Tom." She huffed. "I'm just happy for you .. If you have told me before I would've been there.. For support!."

Tom looked at her blankly. She looked frustrated now. "I just.. How far ahead are you anyway, maybe I could've helped with revision or something..?"

"I can probably take my NEWTS today and get an average score" Tom said considering, tapping his lip in thought. He really needed to up his game. Minerva let out a low keening sound. "Yes, I know," Tom sighed. "Despicable progress."

He looked at her thoughtfully. Is she upset she couldn't take the OWLS as well?
"Don't worry Minerva," He gave her what he hoped was a bright smile. "I'm not going anywhere; I'll still study with you!" Minerva sat down with a thump, red, with her head in her hands muttering something about stupid boys. Tom let her stew on her own. There was nothing he could do here.


4th December 1942

"It seems like there is no plausible end to this war."

"At least Grindelwald is suffering setback."

"I heard Singapore fell to Japan and Japan really dared attack the United States!"

Tom stared desolately at his shepherd's pie. They had just come out of a double potions class, finishing the Polyjuice Potion for his sixth year. Slughorn had been so impressed with his work, he had asked Tom to take a cauldron full of his altered Polyjuice to the stores. He had felt accomplished with his potion modifications but it had all come crashing down when he began listening to the conversations in the Great Hall. The sense of helplessness that haunted him was creeping in on him again.

At least I am closer to finding the Chamber of Secrets! Tom perked up. His disclosure as the heir of Slytherin had gone over marvelously. His housemates were in complete awe of his station. They had taken to aiding him in the most innocuous things, hoping to curry favor and goodwill for the power he would undoubtedly hold beyond these prestigious halls.

Most prized of these gifts was the location of the Chamber of Secrets on a map that had been a gift from the Blacks, who had changed loyalties faster than a snake shedding its skin. Although, their knowledge of the information itself did not surprise him, given how vast the Black Library was.

His appetite did not seem to make an appearance, so he abandoned his food, stuck his hands in his pockets, and stalked out of the Great Hall. He ignored the exclamations made by his Knights and made his way to the second floor.

"Tom," He rounded a corner, only to smack hard on Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh! I apologise, Professor!, Didn't see where I was going there," He said sheepishly.

"Yes, yes that's quite alright, my boy." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Done with dinner already?"

"Yes Professor!"

Tom sneered inwardly at his patronizing tone as he walked away. He turned the corner, following the map and walked into – a girl's toilet?!

Wizards . Tom moaned. A disillusionment spell and a few navigation spells later, he stood in front of the sink. 'Open' He hissed. The sink opened to reveal a pipe leading into the bowels of the earth.

Nope. Nuh-uh. No way in thrice damned- 'Stairsss' he hissed. OH THANK MERLIN.

Tom leisurely walked down into a dank antechamber and hissed for the chamber to shut behind him. Another circular door with pretty snakes greeted him at the end of the hallway. 'Open' he hissed again. WOAH .

Tom was treated to the vision that was Lord Salazar Slytherin's legacy. Marble reflected from every surface and a large sculpture of a head stood at the end of the room.

Lord Slytherin.. Tom realised. Quite narcissistic. He nodded.

'Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the four' he hissed.

The Sculpture's Jaw opened wide, and the sound of slithering warned him something heavy coming his way. Almost too soon, an alarmingly large snake towered over him.

'Who dares wake me from my slumber.."

The snake is quite obviously a Basilisk, Tom thought alarmed. Which begs the question-?

'Why am I not dead?' Tom gasped.

The serpent hissed disjointedly, as if amused. 'A secondary sclera in my eye protects your mortality, hatchling. Now answer my question.'

'I am Tom Riddle, my lady. What is your name?'

The serpent nodded impatiently. 'I am Zamarada, Lord Slytherin's familiar. You are his family, I identify your scent. Tell me.. Where is my Lord? Why hasn't he come to see me?'

Tom frowned at the old biddy. 'Lord Slytherin died centuries ago-'

She let out a low rumbling sound he didn't understand but could tell she was in agony. He lifted his hand and touched her flank, troubled. 'Have you been able to hunt here, Lady Zamarada?'

'No hatchling. I am here to protect the castle; I eat small rodents that pass by.'

Tom pursed his lips. He could not, in good conscience, keep a snake in captivity. Nodding decisively, he did a slow sweep of the room, finding nothing of significance. The Chamber of Secrets boasted of just the Basilisk.
Just the Basilisk. Tom scoffed.
'Did Lord Slytherin leave a legacy here?' he asked.

'There are some scrolls, hatchling. In through the statue's maw, you will find a crate.'

Tom hummed in acknowledgement, quickly collected the crate and asked her to follow him out of the chamber.

Later, he would blame his excitement over his discovery of the chamber for the sheer absurdity -of his callousness- that would follow. He climbed the stairs leading to the bathroom when the unthinkable happened.

Myrtle Elizabeth Warren looked at him in shock, tears running down her face.

"What are you doing here? This is a girl's toi-"

Tom's heart was beating frantically.

"Myrtle!" Tom barked, sensing the basilisk behind him.

It was too late. Tom watched in horror as her body hit the floor. The Basilisk panicking behind him jarred him out of his stupor to needlessly check Myrtle's vitals.

'Calm down' he hissed. He breathed deeply. His mind whirred.

Myrtle was known for haunting this toilet and Albus-fucking-Dumbledore had seen him come this way.

"Fuck" He swore. He needed to get out of here now.

He quickly sent the Basilisk to The Forbidden Forest and marched purposefully to his dormitories.

"Nott!" He barked on spotting the boy on his four-poster bed. His Knights turned to him, alert.

"I need your papers of identification. Now!" Nott was staring at him like he was a mad-man.

"Riddle I can't just give you my-"

"Nott I do not have the time to argue. This is not a request."

Nott hesitated. He then went and collected his papers from his bedside to hand them over Tom, who was packed and putting his shrunk trunk into his pocket. Taking the papers, he plucked a clump of hair from Nott's head (ow!) took out a polyjuice and proceeded to down it.

Tom inhaled deeply, and pinned his Knights with a look.

"Knights." He began. "There's been a... complication." Tom grimaced.
"I found the Chamber of Secrets-" a round of gasps "And the Monster within was set on a student." They looked at him horrified. And Tom gave it a beat.

"So. Where should we hide the body?" asked Avery. Tom felt a bubble of hysterical laughter in his chest.

Tom shook his head. "No. Dumbledore saw me in the area that will fall under suspicion. He will pin this on me." He then smiled. "Don't fret, my friends. I have been meaning to leave Hogwarts early. These past few years.. I have been feeling a growing sense of.. fernweh."

Yep, they think I've lost my marbles.

"If you can, try clearing my name." They nodded furiously. "I shall keep in touch."

And then Tom stole into the night. He made quick work getting through International Floo. A few dozen confundus charms, two countries, and an immigration saw him standing behind an ornate desk.

"Welcome to Japan." An attendant said in fluent Japanese. Tom smiled.


2nd February 1943

Fukuoka was a large and important city on the island of Kyushu. A downtown area in this city, Hakata, was home to over 30 little food stalls selling ramen, motsunabe and yatai; most of which were shut due to the uneasy atmosphere of soldiers marching in neat rows down the street. The alley Tom Riddle was sneaking through was lined with various specialist shops selling glassware, pottery and clothing. Ignoring the suspicious glances thrown his way, he stopped every few minutes to consult a map and moved with steadfast determination, stopping abruptly at a coloured shop.

He rechecked his map almost incredulously, because three months of searching in a war infested nation led him to the basement of a brightly coloured meat shop. Since he first entered Japan, there had been clues. Clues that lead to something. He didn't know if there was an end to this wild goose chase; but something told him it would lead to something more than the happy magical streets that were Diagon Alley's counterparts. Something that was more than the war infested muggle world.

Tom made his way down cautiously and stopped facing an empty room lined by brick walls. He raised his hands, as if in standing supplication, and knew he had hit the jackpot. The magic in the room filled every corner; swirling, tumultuous, wild. He inhaled sharply. Tom was curious, so very curious.

He retrieved his wand, that was now clear of the trace, and slowly caressed the bricks with his magic that created a distant hum that grew louder. There was a heady feeling of saturation and for the first time, Tom felt weary. He tentatively let a tendril of his magic attach itself to what he knew was a weak point and pulled.

There was a white blinding light, and Tom knew no more.