Chapter One

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, tremors causing him to shiver violently. He stuffed his fist in his mouth, hoping to prevent the Dursleys from hearing the scream slowly creeping up his throat. It would surprise many people to find out that his nightmares were not caused by Voldemort or the things he had witnessed. An occasional vision still came his way, but mostly the nightmares were about the horrors he had to endure there, at Number 4, Privet Drive.

“Open the door, Harry,” his cousin’s raspy voice drifted through the thin wood paneling, and Harry stifled a sob, burying himself under his covers.

Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, Dudly would leave him alone. Go away, Dudley. I can’t deal with this tonight. I can neverl deal with this, but especially not tonight. Just please, please go away. Desperation crept over him, despair seeping into his bones because he knew that there was no escape, no matter how much he mentally pleaded with his cousin.

“Two choices, Harry. Open the door or I will.”

Responding to the threat in Dudley’s voice, Harry crept to the door in trepidation, slowly sliding back the latch and allowing the door to fall open. Goddamn it, why the fuck does he do this to me? Why don’t you leave me alone, you big oaf? I just want some peace for once. Is that so much to ask? Trembling violently, knowing the fear showed in his eyes, but unable to suppress it, he allowed his cousin access to his room. Finally, the raven-haired boy got up enough courage to ask, ”Can we please not do this tonight, Dudley?”

The extravagantly overweight teenager narrowed his eyes at Harry, who was trembling before him. “Do you want pain tonight?” he asked, his lips hardening into thin, terse lines as his gaze bore into Harry.

The Gryffindor shook. “N-no. I’ll just go get ready.” I hate my life. I hate Dudley. I hate myself more. I don’t know why I have to put up with this. Oh gods, Dudley, just make it fast tonight. It’s going to be brutal either way, but just get it over with.

“You’d better.”

Harry laid face down on the bed, his legs spread to allow his cousin access. Dudley forced his entrance and finished himself off within second before disengaging and leaving Harry to clean up the mess.

Harry sobbed quietly and hurried to the bathroom as quickly as he could manage. He wished desperately for his seventeenth birthday to arrive so that he could fend off Dudley’s fiendish attacks. Hell, if he wasn’t afraid that he would get expelled from Hogwarts, he would have blasted the Dursleys out of house and home a long time ago. Hogwarts was his only hope, his only escape, and more than anything, he could not afford to give that up. To do that would be to truly trap himself in the Dursley household, and then he would never be able to escape.

Harry woke up to an owl tapping on his window. Reading the letter lifted his spirits, his heart a little lighter knowing that his godfather was a free man and that Wormtail had been captured. The letter also mentioned that Sirius would be arriving at the end of the week to rescue him from the Dursleys. Hurry, Sirius. I don’t know how much more of this abuse I can take. Just hurry. Please.

He did his best to avoid Dudley while he fixed breakfast, but every once in awhile, Dudley couldn’t resist the urge to pinch his arse, and Harry flinched away every time. He was truly beginning to become enraged when the doorbell rang, shaking him out of his homicidal thoughts.

Harry looked at his relatives sourly. Saved by the fucking bell. You’d better be counting your blessings, Dudley Dursley. There’s only three more days until I turn seventeen and then how are you going to get your rocks off? I sure as hell won’t be a participant in your deranged idea of pleasure. The Dursleys, by the gob smacked expressions they wore, told him that they weren’t expecting anyone. And then his scar began to flame.

“What are you waiting for, boy?” Uncle Vernon bellowed. “Go see who it is!”

Harry, in too much pain to get angry over a raise in volume, cautiously obeyed. His courage almost failed him when he reached his destination, the scar on his forehead more fiercely on fire than ever before. His hands shaking badly, he opened the door with no small amount of trepidation, and found himself starting into the face of Tom Riddle- Voldemort- himself.

“Hello, Harry,” the young man standing on the doorstep said politely, hands tucked casually into the pockets of black muggle jeans, a red silk shirt completing his ensemble.

Harry shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. Why is Voldemort, in the guise of Tom Riddle, on my doorstep? And why isn’t he trying to kill me?

“May I come in?” Riddle asked.

The Dursleys snuck up behind Harry as soon as they were certain that the visitor wasn’t anyone wealthy or who they considered important. Uncle Vernon barked, “Who are you?” at Tom, who raised an elegant eyebrow at Vernon’s discourteous behavior.

Harry grinned savagely at his relatives. “Why, Uncle, don’t you know? He’s the man responsible for my parents’ death and numerous attempts on my own life,” he said, his voice laced with anger and resentment. The Dursleys paled and ran for their respective rooms.

Harry rolled his eyes, turning his angry gaze on his nemesis. “Why are you here, Voldemort?” he hissed, wand drawn. With his relatives safely in their own rooms, Harry had ascertained himself room in which to duel if it became necessary.

Tom frowned at the level of violence directed his way, unsurprised and unconcerned as he leaned against the doorframe. “I want to offer you a-

“I want nothing to do with you!” Harry interrupted angrily, his eyes spitting sparks of fury. There is no way in hell that I am ever going to join the ranks of the person who killed my parents!

Tom sighed. “Will you at least let me explain my side of the story first? How can you fight for either side if you don’t know the reasoning behind both?”

Harry growled. Why do I need to know his story when he is responsible for my parents’ death, and therefore responsible for the seventeen years I’ve been stuck in this hell-hole? “You killed my parents!”

“For a good reason!” Tom protested, standing upright, his own eyes flashing dangerously.

Harry stopped, his eyes gleaming an angry green. “Killing is never the right answer. Now leave before I convince myself I’m wrong in that respect.” How dare he tell me he had a good reason to kill my parents! What nerve!

Tom sighed again. “We both know that we can’t kill one another with the Killing Curse, so put your wand away and at least let me explain myself,” he said, his anger completely deflated.

Harry thought over the Dark Lord’s words. He was intrigued, even though he didn’t want to be. Goddamn him, I’ll listen, just because some of the things that Dumbledore has been saying about the ware aren’t making sense anymore. This had better be worth my time. “Fine,” he said. “You have two hours.”

Tom began talking immediately, unwilling to lose any time that had been granted him. “Well, you see, it began when I met Redilu Terran, a werewolf and the boldest person I’ve ever known. He was also the first dark creature I came in contact with. Both of us were in Slytherin together, and we both had an asinine love of flying. I hated Quidditch, though, because I find all sports- Magical and Muggle- extremely tedious. Redilu, on the other hand, loved the sport.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

Tom glared. “Well, if you’d let me tell my story, you would understand.”

Harry sighed impatiently, but motioned for Tom to continue.

Tom took a deep breath before continuing. “Our second year, Redilu was determined to make the House Team as a Chaser. He tried out, like everyone else, and was the best choice for the spot. He didn’t get placed on the team, though, because the new Lycanthrophy Limitation Act had just been passed by the Ministry. The act prevented werewolves from playing Quidditch, living in a dorm, teaching, and so on.”

Harry interrupted then, immediately suspicious. “If that’s the case, why was Remus Lupin allowed to teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts in my third year?”

Tom frowned, slightly annoyed at the interruption, but answered the question. "The Act has been amended since it was put into play, and some of the restrictions were lifted."

"Oh, alright. That does make sense, since Wizarding Law changes so often," Harry said. "Please. Continue."

"Well, upon finding out, Redilu became infuriated. His lycanthropy, over which he had no control, was once again preventing him from doing something he loved. He felt that he desered a spot on the Quidditch Team and immediately began petitioning the Ministry, trying to get them to repeal their decision. He was causing an uproar at 12 years of age, and that caused the Ministry to panic. They had too much riding on the Lycanthropy Limitations Act and with all the werewolves backing Redilu, if the Ministry didn't do something, the Act would be retracted and rewritten to give werewolves more benefits and less restrictions."

Tom paused, gathering his thoughts. The next part of his story was extremely painful for him and so it was difficult to relive the memories. "In our fifth year, after Redilu turned 15, I found a prestiged Auror injecting Redilu with silver. And that's the day I realized the true depth of teh corruption that runs in the blood of all Ministry officials."

Harry frowned in thought, finally asking, "What did Redilu do?"

Tom snorted. "That's just it. He did nothing except petition for a Quidditch spot. He questioned the government and they killed him."

"Why did they wait three years?"

"To take the heat off of them. By that time, Redilu had all but given up hope of ever being on the team and everyone else had basically forgotten his cause."

"So the timing was right, in the Ministry's mind," Harry concluded for him. "But why did you start the war?"

"Because I never forgot his cause. I swore, as I stood over his dead body, that I would have vengeance on the Ministry, and I swore to Redilu that I would turn this world into one of equality, the only thing he ever truly wanted."

Harry nodded in appreciation of the true purpose behind Tom's cause. A missing fact caught his attention. "You said you saw the Auror administering the silver, but why weren't you caught?"

Tom laughed bitterly. "Because I was hiding under an Invisibility Cloak. The Auror never noticed. I would've killed him, but to start a war in Azkaban would have been impossible."

"All right. I've heard the reasons you started the war and I agree with your cause. But what I'm having trouble understanding is the reasoning behind the murder of my parents and how their death furthered your cause," Harry said. "You have an hour left, so start by explaining that."