— CHAPTER ONE —
Night chase
The cold February wind howled across the frozen fields surrounding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the snow–covered castle towers. Inside the warm Gryffindor sixth year boy dormitory, oblivious to the drama unfolding outside, Harry Potter sat cross–legged on his bed, the heavy curtains drawn tightly shut. He was hunched over the Marauder's Map, illuminated by the glow of Lumos, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The map lay spread out before him, its intricate lines revealing the castle's secrets, each dot representing a soul, living or dead. Harry's eyes, framed by round glasses, scanned the parchment and there, amidst the myriad of dots, was the one that caught his attention the most: Draco Malfoy.
The Slytherin's movements were usually unsuspicious and painfully boring, but today was different. Holding his breath, Harry watched hypnotically as the dot marked 'Draco Malfoy' left the Slytherin common room and headed towards... the seventh–floor corridor!
A wave of determination washed over Harry as he realised that this was his chance to expose whatever sinister activities Malfoy was involved in. Without a second thought, Harry leapt from his bed, the old wooden floorboards groaning under the sudden impact of his rashness. His invisibility cloak lay folded nearby, and he grabbed it, the silvery material billowing as he wrapped himself in it. The thought of Ron waking briefly crossed his mind, but Harry couldn't afford to delay.
But the sudden noise woke Ron up anyway.
"Harry, what's going on?" Ron's voice was thick with sleep.
Harry, annoyed at the delay, only whispered, "Ron, I can't explain right now, but I have to go to the seventh floor. It's about Malfoy."
Ron, still half–asleep, rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I'm coming with you, then. Just give me a sec to get up."
"No, Ron, I don't have time. I'll be fine. I promise I'll fill you in later."
With that, Harry turned and slipped out of the boys dormitory, his invisibility cloak rendering him completely unseen.
Outside the Gryffindor common room, the castle corridors were bathed in shadow, and the echoes of Harry's hurried footsteps reverberated as he raced through the corridor. His breath was quick and shallow beneath the cloak as he made his way barefoot and in thin pyjamas towards the seventh floor. He navigated the twisting staircases and cold corridors, at one point narrowly avoiding Filch and his cat, Mr Norris, and finally reached the seventh floor.
He stopped and, catching his breath after his frantic run, looked down at the map he had been clutching all along. Surprised, Harry discovered that the dot signed as Draco Malfoy was located exactly... in the middle of the Room of Requirement.
"Malfoy," Harry muttered to himself, "what are you up to?"
o.O.o
Hidden beneath his invisibility cloak and clutching the Marauder's Map, Harry Potter stood patiently outside the Room of Requirement, the anticipation of uncovering Draco Malfoy's intentions consuming his thoughts. The minutes felt like hours as he glanced down at the map from time to time to make sure Draco was still in the secret chamber. The constant chill of the thick walls and stone floor nearly froze him, so he cast a warming spell on himself. He could have at least worn thick socks...
The task Dumbledore had entrusted him with, to discover the number of Horcruxes Tom Riddle intended to create, weighed heavily on his mind. It was a vital piece of information that could lead to Voldemort's ultimate defeat, but at that moment Harry's determination to uncover Malfoy's secrets took precedence. So, Harry battled the nagging voice in his head, reminding him of his urgent mission with Professor Slughorn. It was here, in this silent, secluded corridor, that Draco Malfoy would need Harry's attention. To ease his conscience, he repeated to himself that as soon as he discovered what Malfoy was up to, he would return immediately to the mission Dumbledore had given him.
As the night wore on, Harry's eyelids began to droop. He was exhausted from standing in the cold corridor, but he couldn't afford to let the Slytherin slip away unnoticed, not with all the unanswered questions and the sense of impending danger in the castle.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the dot on the Marauder's Map began to move. Harry's heart quickened and he held his breath as he watched the dot approach the exit. With practised stealth, Malfoy left the Room of Requirement and Harry could almost hear the soft click of the door closing behind him.
Harry forced himself to wait for Malfoy's footsteps to fade. Then, still shrouded in his invisibility cloak, he pulled his back away from the wall and walked over to the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement.
Taking a deep breath, Harry started pacing back and forth, focusing his thoughts. He kept whispering, "Show me the room where Draco Malfoy has just been. Show me the room where Draco Malfoy has just been."
In response to his plea, a doorway materialised on the wall before him, revealing a room shrouded in shadows and secrets. Determined to discover what Draco Malfoy was up to, Harry Potter without hesitation stepped across the threshold and found himself inside the Room of Hidden Things.
Harry's heart pounded with anticipation and curiosity as he wandered through the cluttered Room of Hidden Things. Shelves lined with forgotten artefacts loomed on all sides, and his footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit space.
He roamed between the aisles, his invisibility cloak sliding off his head. The Marauder's Map was safely tucked away, and his senses were on high alert. Harry had no idea what he was searching for; he only knew that the Room of Requirement had concealed a significant part of Draco's secret activities, and he was determined to find it.
Unsure of where to begin, he walked with measured steps, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. It was like navigating through the most extensive library of the arcane, except the tomes were replaced with an endless array of curiosities, all carefully catalogued by the Room of Requirement.
Suddenly he heard it — a single, ominous creaking sound, as if an ancient door had reluctantly yielded to the passage of time. His curiosity piqued; Harry made his way toward the source of the sound. There, in a far corner of the room, stood an old, decaying wardrobe, its wood showing signs of age and neglect.
Following an instinct that was now tingling with the anticipation of discovery, Harry approached the wardrobe. Its exterior appeared unremarkable, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it held something hidden within its ageing frame. He took a deep breath and reached for the wardrobe's handle and pulled it open. To his initial disappointment, the interior was empty and shrouded in inky darkness. He began to examine the wardrobe more closely, running his hands along its wood, searching for hidden compartments or any signs of its significance.
The unwanted thought that what he was doing was breaking his promise to Dumbledore entered Harry's mind. Harry sighed. If only it were possible to combine both...
With a deafening slam, the door abruptly shut behind. Panic surged through Harry's veins as he felt the ground vanish from beneath his feet. He began to fall with dizzying speed, spinning and somersaulting through the air. The world around him became a blur of colours, sounds, and sensations, and Harry unable to do anything else, clenched his eyes tightly and brace himself for an inevitable, painful landing. He only hoped that he would survive it...
With a deafening thud, Harry fell to the ground. For a moment he lay motionless in a rather uncomfortable position with his legs up and his head on the ground, catching his breath. Finally, in pain and disorientation, he slowly rose to his feet, clutching his aching head. To his astonishment, he realised that he was still within the wardrobe, but was full of bad feelings.
He would have been happiest not to leave the cursed wardrobe, but he knew that wasn't an option. As he tentatively opened the wardrobe door and stepped out, he realised that he was no longer at Hogwarts unless it was some other version of the Room of Requirement. He sincerely doubted it. An unpleasant feeling of déjà vu came over him. The place he found himself in was like the shop where he had landed years ago during his first trip through the Fiuu network. Harry tightened his hand on his wand and took a few tentative steps forward, looking carefully around.
Flickering candlelight bathed the shop in an eerie glow, casting elongated, ominous shadows. A heavy, musty scent clung to the air, a melange of leather, mothballs, and aged parchment. Shelves lined with curiosities loomed on all sides, their contents a bewitching assortment of the macabre and mystical. Taxidermized creatures, their glassy eyes unblinking, stared from their perches. Antique masks leered from the walls, each with a story of its own. Shrunken heads grimaced from their pedestals, and cabinets were filled with venomous, preserved creatures in glass jars, their serpentine forms frozen in eerie lifelike poses.
Yep, it was definitely Borgin and Burke.
At least he knew where he was. Comforted by this thought, Harry turned to find the exit and screamed in terror. Across from him, with his wand pointed in his direction and a deadly serious expression on his face, stood none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"Well, well, what do we have here? A lost little boy who …"
Harry let his instincts take over. Without waiting for Riddle to finish, he attacked him with Expelliarmus.
It was his fourth fatal mistake of the evening.
The third was that he didn't make sure he was wearing his invisibility cloak before coming out of the wardrobe.
The other boy's shield wavered like the surface of a pond moved by a stone, sending Harry's Expelliarmus back into the shadows. Tom Riddle's retaliation came in a flash, a stream of purple flame that twisted and writhed through the air.
The duel began.
Tom Riddle fought with fluid grace. He cast spells with a precision that spoke of his years of experience, each incantation calculated to hit its target without destroying the cursed objects around them. Harry, his messy black hair flying as he dodged spells, was a stark contrast. He may not have had Riddle's finesse, but his determination and reflexes were unrivalled. He hurriedly cast spells, his voice echoing through the cluttered shop, not caring for the damage they caused. The room crackled with magic as the spells erupted like fireworks, casting eerie, erratic shadows that danced across the shelves of forgotten objects. Eerie artefacts collected on the shelves rattled, and one of the jars exploded violently, spilling its contents when one of the stray spells hit it.
"Who are you?" Riddle demanded; his tone icy as he sent a stream of red bolts in Harry's direction. "What are you doing here?"
Harry jumped back, hiding behind a display case. The glass shattered into a million pieces. Harry reflexively covered his eyes with his arm. Then he leaned out for a moment, parrying Riddle's questions with well–aimed curses.
Tom Riddle smirked and effortlessly deflected Harry's spells. "Very well, we'll do this the harder way."
After another fierce but unresolved exchange of spells, the two wizards began to circle each other, deathly determination on their faces.
Suddenly, images flashed before Harry's eyes.
He saw himself sitting over the Marauder's Map, watching names move across the parchment. He was arguing with Hermione about the task Dumbledore had given him, his frustration evident in his words. He could feel the rush of the wind as he ran down the corridors of Hogwarts, racing to find out what Malfoy was up to.
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" he shouted lividly, pushing Riddle's presence out of his mind as he realised the other wizard was using his Legilimency on him.
The connection was broken, and the duel reached a new level of intensity.
Harry knew he had to do his best, despite the huge difference in their magical abilities. Riddle's spells were cast with a precision Harry could only dream of. A rapid succession of curses and hexes flew between them, their wands a blur of movement and colour. This duel was unlike any of his previous encounter with Lord Voldemort.
Suddenly, in a quick, decisive series of powerful spells, Tom Riddle unleashed a torrent of magic. Stunning, disarming and immobilising spells flew at Harry in rapid succession. Harry parried, dodged and countered as best he could, but the sheer force of Riddle's attacks left him breathless and cornered.
Hit by one of the curses, Harry slammed with his back into a shelf of grotesque heads on pedestals with a deafening crack. One of the heads fell and hit Harry in his shoulder. At the same time, another spell knocked his wand out of his hand. Riddle wasted no time. With an air of malevolent triumph, he cast a spell that sent Harry tumbling to the ground. The magic pinned Harry's feet and palms to the wooden floor, forcing him to kneel before his opponent.
As Harry struggled against the invisible bonds that held him in place, Riddle approached him slowly. With a menacing glint in his eyes, Riddle leaned closer, his voice a sinister whisper. "Now, let's try this again, shall we? What is your name?"
Harry Potter's heart pounded, trapped under the immobilising spell, his mind racing for a way out of this dire situation. He cast a fleeting glance toward the front door of the shop, silently praying for a miracle.
Riddle's gaze followed Harry's and, in a voice that oozed with sinister satisfaction, he informed him,
"I wouldn't count on it. This shop is closed."
Tom Riddle straightened up slowly and pointed his wand at Harry. "So..."
No phoenix, no Dumbledore, or even a portkey, not to mention his parents.
"Piers... Piers Polkiss" Harry, staring at the floor, introduced himself with the first name that came to mind.
A sharp, quick pulse of pain – as if he had been electrocuted – made Harry's back arch. Potter shouted, briefly, loudly, utterly surprised by this attack.
Think, think.
But his mind was like a blank sheet of paper.
'Next time I won't be so lenient,' Tom Riddle said casually, turning his wand in his fingers.
"Harry Potter" Harry threw out reluctantly, horrified by how close he was to dying. If Tom Riddle had decided on Avada Kedavra, nothing would have been able to stop him. Riddle could have killed him here and now, and since no one knew Harry was here, no one would have looked for him. Another crime Riddle would have gotten away with. He would just have to hide the body. Harry suspected that for the future dark lord, this would be the least of his problems.
With an elegant flick of his wand, Riddle summoned a chair on which he sprawled comfortably across Harry. From his whole posture radiated the confidence of a man who had always won. Worst of all, Tom Riddle looked as if he had never duelled. Only his hair was a bit dishevelled and his black robes were a little dusty. And there were the two small stains on his sleeve and the slightly crooked piece of cloth around his neck that looked like a tie but wasn't.
"That's better. Now we can talk."
Harry's chest tightened with a cold, creeping dread.
But the most chilling realisation came when he lifted his head and looked more carefully into the face of the wizard before him. Tom Riddle, a disturbingly material Tom Riddle, looked nothing like the teenager from the diary that Harry Potter fought in the Chamber of Secrets. His features were sharper, more mature, predatory and at the same time somehow handsome.
As if Tom Riddle's mere presence wasn't enough, Harry had, by some miracle, moved from Hogwarts to the Deathly Knockturn Alley. He was trapped in Borgin and Burke's, a shop that looked both eerily familiar and drastically different from what he remembered. Had he moved not only in space, but also... in time?
The horror of this revelation sent a shiver down his spine, a realization that defied all logic and sense. Time travel was not a known skill in the wizarding world – besides Dumbledore had once said that it was not possible to travel more than a few hours back – and the implications of finding himself in the past, alone and defenceless, were staggering.
Playing for time, Harry decided that talking to Riddle would be the best option. Like in the Chamber of Secrets. He knew he had to choose his words carefully, stalling for an opportunity to escape the immobilising spell that held him in this humiliating, kneeling position.
"All right, we can talk. But first, could you..." Harry pointed with his head at his hands, which were stuck to the floor. Riddle looked at him with dark amusement and, to Harry's surprise, cast a spell that allowed Harry to get his hands off the floor. His legs were still bound, however, so he had no choice but to assume an even more humiliating position. Now he was sitting on his heels in front of his mortal enemy.
Harry rubbed his arm, which was still sore after being hit by one of the heads above him.
"Ask your questions" he said, a gloomy resignation in his voice.
Riddle's calculating gaze locked onto Harry, and he inquired, "Who are you, and how did you come to be here?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, aware of the significance of his words. "I'm Harry Potter, a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he replied. "As for how I came to be here... it's complicated, but I believe I've been... transported through time."
Riddle's eyebrows arched, and he regarded Harry with intense scrutiny. "Transported through time?" he repeated, his voice tinged with scepticism. "That is quite an extraordinary claim, Potter."
Harry, keeping his composure, continued, "I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's true. I know this shop from my times. It looks a bit differently now."
Riddle did not look convinced. "And based on the fact that the shop looks a bit different, you concluded that you had moved back in time?"
This sounded even more ludicrous in Tom Riddle's mouth.
Harry nodded vigorously.
"'Exactly"
Riddle crossed his arms over his chest. At this very moment his face betrayed no emotion, so Harry couldn't tell if the older boy believed him or not.
'Then how exactly did you transfer in time?
"I told you it was a bit complicated... I... it's quite a long story."
"We have time." Riddle's lip curled into a faint smile, though his eyes remained cold.
Harry had no choice but to comply. He moved his shoulders to stretch his back, which was a little sore after the blow, and shuddered slightly from the cold. He hadn't felt it during the fight, but as the adrenaline–fuelled emotions subsided he realised that he was still barefoot and in his pyjamas. And it was only a tad warmer in the shop than in the dark corridors of Hogwarts. On top of that, his feet began to pinch; probably shards of glass had been knocked into them.
"I was out stalking this Slytherin I'm on the outs with last night, and it turns out the bastard is hiding from me in a secret room on the seventh floor." As soon as he mentioned it, he saw a flash of recognition in Riddle's eyes. Okay, so that meant he knew about it too. Maybe he'll believe him then. "As soon as he came out, I asked the Room of Requirement to show me the room where this Slytherin was staying. Well, that's how I ended up in the Room of the Hidden Things, and that's when I came across this wardrobe. Something pulled me towards it, so I went in and... And that is how I ended up here."
"Just like that... You walked into it? Into an object that could potentially be cursed? Without thinking?"
"Now I know it was stupid."
As he told his story, Harry Potter realised one thing: he knew who Tom Riddle was, whereas Tom Riddle had no idea that the boy kneeling before him was the one who would lead to his future downfall. If he can just convince Riddle that he's a harmless idiot, perhaps the man will let him go, so that he can look for someone to help him get back to his times? After all, he couldn't die here, not with a Voldemort waiting for him to defeat in the future.
"And as soon as you saw me, you attacked me..." Riddle pointed out. "Why?"
Harry took a deep breath and replied, "I attacked you because I panicked. When I saw your wand pointed at me, I reacted out of fear. I didn't know what your intentions were, and I had to defend myself. It was a reflex, and I… I apologise for it."
Riddle seemed to consider this explanation carefully, his gaze unwavering.
"Let's suppose I believe you... How far in the future do you come?"
"February 1996. And here?"
"February 1947."
Harry breathed in sharply. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking 50 years. 49 years, to be precise.
"I... I have to go back to my own time! Please let me go so I can find someone to help me!" Playing the role of a frightened time traveller came easily to Harry, especially since that's how he felt. At the same time, he looked around Riddle's figure, searching for his wand, which he had lost during the duel. Unfortunately, he didn't see it anywhere.
Riddle studied Harry, his dark eyes narrowing as if he was considering Harry's request.
"Please," Harry urged, "let me go. I need to find a way back to my time. I don't want to change anything by accident."
Riddle regarded him with a sinister glint in his eyes, the corners of his lips curling into a sly smile. He gave the impression of someone who knew he had all the cards and was about to use them. "I will release you, Potter, but it won't be without conditions."
Harry's heart sank. He had a sinking feeling that Riddle's terms would not be favourable.
"Name your terms," Harry said, his voice resigned. He had no choice but to listen to what Riddle had in mind. Remember, you're just an ordinary, stupid teenager who gets into unknown magical artefacts...
"Actually, I have one simple condition," Tom purred, his eyes glinting with devious intent. "I will release you, but in return, you must swear an oath of loyalty and obedience to me."
Harry's eyes widened in horror. "You are kidding!", he blurted out.
"On the contrary, I'm deadly serious. if you truly are a time traveller, as you claim, you could be useful to me."
The proposition hung in the air like a malevolent storm cloud. Harry's heart sank as the full weight of the request settled upon him. Swearing allegiance to Tom Riddle, the dark wizard who would become the dreaded Lord Voldemort, was a nightmarish prospect.
"Why should I agree to your terms?" Harry questioned, seeking to buy some time, even if it was just a few precious moments.
Riddle's response was merciless, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because, Harry Potter, I am the one holding the wand pointed at you. You are at my mercy. You can either accept my offer or face the consequences."
As if to emphasise his words, Tom Riddle stood up from his chair and towering over the kneeling Harry pointed his wand at him. "So…?"
The cruel reality of the situation weighed heavily on Harry. He was immobilised, powerless, and vulnerable. Tom Riddle had him in a stranglehold, and there seemed to be no way out. He had to play along, bide his time, and find an opportunity to escape this nightmare. Besides... They were just words. Breaking the word to Tom Riddle will not be a disgrace to honour, quite the contrary.
In a moment of utter helplessness, he relented. "Fine. I agree. So, is it enough for me to just say that I will be loyal and obedient?"
Riddle's smile was chilling as spoke, "Let's do this magical, shall we?".
He extended his hand towards the kneeling Harry. With a languid and undisguised reluctance, Harry placed his hand on his palm. As Tom Riddle's cold fingers closed around his, a shiver like an electrical impulse ran down Harry Potter's spine. At the same time, there was also a second, different feeling – a fleeting one, like a blink of an eye, and Harry nipped it in the bud – a feeling as if he was finally home, in the right place.
"I want you to swear to me something too," Harry suddenly said, trying not to think about what he was doing. "Swear you won't kill me and help me find a way to my times."
Riddle narrowed his eyes and said icily, "You are not in a position to make any demands, Harry Potter."
"Then save your time and kill me now."
For a moment, Harry and Tom stared at each other with cold, determined gazes. Harry, upright, on his knees, his cheeks burning with humiliation and anger. Tom Riddle, with his terrifying aura, towering over him, ruthless and calm. Neither of them would back down.
"You first," Riddle finally said. Harry hoped that meant agreement. "Repeat after me: I, Harry Potter, swear by my magic that…"
"I, Harry Potter, swear by my magic that…"
Every word he spoke left a bitter taste on Harry's tongue. But he didn't turn his head. He looked Tom Riddle straight in the eye with cold hatred.
"…I will be loyal and obedient to Tom Marvolo Riddle…"
"…I will be loyal and obedient to Tom Marvolo Riddle…"
Every word was a betrayal of all that he believed in and fought for.
"…my new master."
It was the antithesis of what his parents had done for him, and Harry knew that even when he found a way to break that vow, the words he had just spoken would haunt him for the rest of his life.
"…my new… master."
As soon as Harry said the last word of his vow, a streak of light appeared around their clasped hands. It did not tighten around them, as Harry had expected, but hung in the air, as if waiting for something. Riddle looked at it with undisguised, sinister satisfaction, then spoke again in a solemn manner.
"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, accept the Oath of Loyalty sworn by Harry Potter and promise not to kill him or take away his magic until I believe he has broken it. When I decide I no longer need him, I will help him find a way to return to his times."
Cold fear has swept over Harry as he heard the part of Riddle's vow. The glowing band above their hands finally closed over them. A feeling of emptiness and finality washed over Harry.
However, he didn't have time to think about what he had done, for as soon as the oath was sealed, Riddle withdrew his hand and with a quick, decisive wave of his wand, cast a stunning spell on Harry. Harry's limp body fell to the floor with a thud.
o.O.o
With a casual flick of his wand, Tom Riddle lifted the unconscious body of Harry Potter into the air, his inert form hovering just above the cluttered floor of the shop. It was a necessary precaution to ensure that the potentially disruptive presence of his prisoner didn't interfere with his efforts to clean up the aftermath of their violent duel.
Tom Riddle surveyed Borgin and Burke's coldly. The shop, normally a haven for rare and dark magical artefacts, was in disarray. Tom's brow furrowed in irritation. He had been cautious, measured in his strikes, careful not to damage any of the objects. After all, explaining the destruction to his employers was an inconvenience he would rather avoid. But Harry Potter, in his desperate fight for freedom, had cast spells blindly, hitting everything in his path.
Tom's eyes flickered to a shattered glass case containing delicate vials and mysterious potions. The contents had spilled, mixing and swirling. A cracked mirror lay on the floor, its shards reflecting a fractured image of the shop. A cupboard of cursed masks had been thrown open; grotesque faces now scattered about like eerie masks of death. One of the heads on the pedestal lay on the floor, staring at him reproachfully.
Potter had proved to be an unpredictable opponent, clumsy in his approach but surprisingly effective in his attacks. He was no match for Tom's immense talent, but there was a tenacity about the young wizard that intrigued Tom. It was as if there was something more to Harry's story, something hidden beneath the surface.
Fortunately, he will have time to discover what it is. A lot of time.
With a wave of his wand, Tom began to clean the shop, a meticulous process of restoration. Broken glass reassembled, damaged artefacts returned to their original state, and debris floated back to its proper place. Borgin and Burke's gradually returned to its eerie, meticulous order, the only evidence of the duel being the floating body of the second boy. At least the spells Potter used could not permanently damage the dark magic items Riddle's employers had collected with such care. And Tom, fortunately, was careful and restrained himself.
Once the shop was restored ad his opponent's wand found and tucked into Tom's robe pocket, Tom Riddle turned his attention to the cupboard Harry had fallen from.
He wasn't an idiot like Potter and had no intention of packing into a potentially dangerous and cursed object, but he did want to examine it. The fact that this ordinary, dust–collecting wardrobe had turned out to be such a thing amazed him immeasurably. Even Burke had suggested some time ago that it would be a good idea to get rid of it, as it was just taking up space. And here was such a surprise...
He raised his wand and cast a revealing spell. After a moment, his sharp eyes caught a faint glimmer from inside the cupboard. With a sense of anticipation, he summoned the source of the light and two items emerged from the depths of the cupboard. An old piece of parchment that appeared to be a blank page, but in his fingers sparkled with hidden magic, and a cloak of invisibility that appeared to be authentic. A smile played at the corners of his lips as he contemplated his new acquisitions.
The parchment intrigued him, its contents shrouded in mystery. Perhaps it was an enchanted map leading to powerful artefacts. The Invisibility Cloak, on the other hand, had its own appeal. Tom Riddle knew of such cloaks, rare and powerful, and the prospect of possessing one filled him with satisfaction.
Without hesitation, he slipped both items into his leather pouch. They would be added to his growing collection of rare and valuable artefacts. As he reflected on the strange events that had unfolded, Tom Riddle couldn't help but feel that fate seemed to be involved. His encounter with Harry Potter, the items he had acquired and the questions that remained unanswered all pointed to a greater plan, one that transcended the boundaries of time.
With one last appraising glance at the shop, Tom Riddle turned his attention to the unconscious form of Harry Potter. The young wizard floated in mid–air, suspended by Tom's magic, a mere inconvenience to be dealt with.
As an afterthought, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pouch – why not try it out right away? He put it on Potter and judged the effect to be satisfactory. Then he cast an Attraction Charm on his new acquisition. Even though it was dark and frosty outside, Tom felt like going for a walk. He needed to clear his mind before he face Harry Potter again.
o.O.o
In the depths of Knockturn Alley, a chilling darkness descended upon the snow–covered streets. The old, dilapidated buildings stood like silent thugs, their facades weathered by time and secrets. The windows were dark, reflecting the icy chill that gripped the street, and the shadows they cast seemed to dance with malevolence.
The snow–laden cobbles crunched under Tom Riddle's hurried footsteps, the cold air biting at his exposed skin of his neck and face. His long, dark cloak billowed behind him as he left a trail of footprints in the fresh snow, each step crisp and deliberate. The bitter cold of the winter night hung heavy in the air, turning his breath into frozen puffs. Tom's pace was swift, his purpose unyielding, as he pulled an invisible burden along the desolate lane.
If anyone living in this notorious alley looked out now, they would see history unfold.
But no one was looking. At least not officially.
A/N
Please keep in mind that this is not going to be a friendly or pleasant story. Especially for Harry Potter. I'm in Tom Riddle's team, and I think that since Lord Voldemort was a punching bag for Potter in the canon, fanfics are there to make sure that the roles are finally reversed. Besides, what's a decent Dark Lord if he gets beaten up by a teenager every year?
More seriously, expect shades of grey, because I don't think the world is black and white. Also, be prepared that Tom Riddlewill have an upper hand. He may not kill Harry Potter, but he won't be easy on him. It won't be typical slave-fic, though. Harry has been forced to swear an oath of obedience, but that doesn't mean he's been stripped of his own will and responsibility for what he does. Oh, no, no.
Besides, what fun would it be for Tom Riddle to bend someone to his will who must be obeyed anyway?
At some point in the future, if I don't get bored of this fic, some young Death Eaters will join to our two charming gentelmen as well. And then the fun will just begin.
One thing is 100% sure: this story will never turn into a slash between Harry and Tom, or Harry and any other character. I don't like romance. So if you started reading this hoping for a fiery to stormy relationship between Harry and Tom... get set that it will be one, just platonic.
But I do like Tom Riddle throwing Crucio (especially on Harry Potter). And acting like a cunning, intelligent badass.
I also like Harry Potter very much, despite appearances.
I won't post more warnings so as not to spoil the plot. But... you read it at your own risk. It will hurt, very. Mentally and physically.
If you liked it, leave a comment! Comments feed authors! Well, and I'd love it if you share your thoughts on the story! :)