Ok here goes Chapter One. I would like to say thanks to the people who read the prologue and if they continue you are awesome.
Thank you to Warsameking for the lovely message as well as the Reviews by thunder18 and Nobody.
Reviews and messages make the story much faster so please send them to me if you would enjoy to see this story to continue.
Cold.
Tom woke to a chill surrounding his body and mind. He was not dead. An emotion pulsed through him that he had not felt since he was a teen. He felt joy. His eyes cracked open to see blinding white. For a second he thought he was dead again before he realized that he was in some kind of snow storm. He hoped to god Dumbledore hadn't sent him to the Artic Peninsula.
He rose. His body feeling fit. He looked to his hands to see his skin was flushed and pink. His long worked in calluses had vanished it seemed. He seemed to be naked which wasn't quite ideal for such a moment in time. He crossed his arms and began chanting quietly in Latin to push magic through his veins to warm himself. Most wizards would be useless without a wand but Tom had learned that focusing object like wands are good in fights but wandless magic was not hard to pick up. He then transfigured a rock into a black rob that was thick wull.
He tried to apparate to his manor but found he couldn't move. His magic wouldn't respond to him and he tried four times before he felt to drained to attempt anything more. He looked around for any land marks he could recognize but found himself unable to place where he had been thrown. He thought that maybe he was in the past. That would make the most sense as the places he wanted to go hadn't been built yet.
He began to contemplate what he would do to rebuild his empire. If he was indeed in the past he most likely could take over without Dumbledore and his little order annoying him. He grinned at this thought and he felt another emotion he had long forgotten. Sadness. He thought of his own mother and her sad life. His grin slipped from his face at this and he realized that with his soul together he was no longer emotional closed.
In his mind Dumbledore's voice came through, "This is your chance Tom. You can make this world better than you left it."
Tom sneered at the thought of the old man. "Do you think that I will ever bow to someone as pathetic as you? I will rule our world and find your kin so that I can destroy ever piece of you before you can eve n enter this earth."
The fake Dumbledore began to smile. Oh god, Tom hated that stupid smile. It was a smile that he had shown the first time he had met Tom in the orphanage. He had smiled like that after he had been sorted in to Slytherin. He had smiled like that after Tom had framed Hagrid as the one behind the attacks. It was a smile that said You are exactly what I thought you were and you will never change. It said You are a thief and a liar. It said You will lose.
Tom began to boil with rage and sunk to his knees, feeling the cold snow encompass his legs. In his mind, he screamed at the figure of the obviously fake Dumbledore and began to throw hex after hex and imagined the man screaming in pain. He smiled a little at this though he knew it would never come to be.
But no matter what he imagined it didn't stop the nagging voice that was within his head. He trudged on.
TMRDL
TMRDL
He walked for days southward. He came across few people and animals. The land he had been pushed to was abandoned. He was unsure as to why. The ground while cold was not permafrost so it could reap crops. He knew that the Nordic countries fished and herded animals to make up for such things. He knew that such things with the help of herbology and muggle science could grow in much colder areas.
As his usual he awoke on his thirteenth day and began to walk. He ate the jerky from the fox he had killed the previous day as his breakfast. He walked briskly but didn't run. He was in no hurry to make it to the mainland of Russia as he had predicted his course would put him. He had other options but he felt it necessary to review the large amounts of information within his head. He focused on how he would fight off what would be most of the world's wizarding population.
In the far distance he saw six men on horses galloping his way. He sensed that they had no magic signature so he knew they were muggles. He thought of killing them but then he decided interrogating them would be a much better use of his time. He could then ride comfortably on one of their horses.
As they approached he began to ready his hands below his cloak. His hood was drawn over his head.
The men he saw were dressed all in black and seemed ready for a fight. The man that seemed to lead them was a quite tall, Tom could tell even with him being on horseback.
As they came close the leader called out to him, "Hold Wildling, we mean you no harm. My brothers and I have been out to settle disturbances that have been happening in this region beyond the wall."
Tom was surprised that the man spoke English and seemed to speak it well. His accent was a little bit northern but it was still quite understandable. His interest had been peeked and he lowered his arms.
"I am sorry Sir but I am not this Wildling you speak of. I am a simple traveller. Tell me sir am I close to the Nordic Countries or perhaps Russia?" Tom asked. The man looked at him strangely, "I know not of what you speak traveller. You are a few hundred leagues north of the Wall which guards Westeros "
Tom began to have a sinking feeling that this world was not his own. His disgusting emotions came through him again. He felt like a gross child the way the feeling of regret flooded through him. He kept his guard up and stared at the man's eyes.
He pushed into the man's mind hard. He also stunned the men onj their horses so he could search the man.
His name was Jeor Mormont and he was born a lesser noble to a great vassal of the King.
Westeros was quite large. He saw massive lands and huge Castles. He saw no magic and began to despair. He searched for more.
He began to see paintings of men with silver hair riding dragons. He saw another sliver haired man atop a throne made of swords.
He saw a wall that rose into the sky. He saw the man's pride. His son and his daughter in law. He saw what the man called Bear Island and Tom scoffed at the man's adoration of such a dump.
Then he saw the Wildlings. Words whispered through his mind.
They do not bow.
He saw a map with settlements marked at stole the memory.
He pushed out of Jeor's mind.
Jeor fell from the horse and held his head as if he had been struck.
"You!" He screamed, "You're a witch!"
Tom resisted the urge to murder the man but resisted as it would serve him no purpose.
"Yes and I thank you for the memories they will serve me well." Tom said before doing a mock bow. He frowned a bit, "I think I have been headed the wrong way."
He turned north to head towards a near wildling settlement that was on the map.
Jeor yelled after him, seeming to know where he was headed, "They won't bow. They won't follow some child who can paly mind tricks!"
Tom turned back to the man before grinning in a dark manner. "Oh that is where you are quite wrong Lord Mormont. You see, all men are weak. These wildlings will bow just as you do now. All men bow to a King."
Tom walked from the group grinning and feeling an emotion he was quite familiar with. Pride.
So that's Chapter One. I hope you are enjoying the story, I certainly am. Please Review the story or private message me with any ideas or thoughts on the story. I am open to anything you want.
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