Author's Note:

After working with developing a gray Harry, I found myself really wanting to write a darker one. I suppose that this could even fit in with my other fic, which deals with multiple universes. Perhaps this story simply happened in one of those.

Pairing: Unabashedly Tom Riddle/Harry Potter.

Which means this is SLASH. So if you don't like that then don't read. Please don't ignore that warning and then go on to give me flames because I will not be kind in my response.

Plot: What if the sliver of Lord Voldemort's soul that was unknowingly lodged in Harry's scar wasn't a Horcrux at all. Instead, when the Dark Lord's curse rebounded that Halloween night, a piece of his fractured soul sought out the one thing that felt similar, equal even. And what would have happened when, years later, Harry opened Tom's diary and came face-to-face with the one person who knew what that meant?

Note: The first few years will move by quickly (though I will adequately develop the characters) and I will be changing things from canon quite liberally. So if it goes against what happens in the books for no apparent reason, I will drop a few lines to acknowledge it or trust that you will go with it/give me the chance to explain in future chapters.

Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.

Prologue:

The Dark Lord popped into existence just off the main street of Godric's Hallow. The small wizarding village was nearly empty on this Halloween night and the air was crisp and had an underlying chill to it, perhaps a sign of what was to come.

His cloak billowed behind him as he turned and quickly headed in the direction that Wormtail had described.

Just thinking about what it was that he was doing brought a malicious smirk to his face. To think that the Potter's had trusted that pathetic rodent with something so integral to their family's safety amused him to no end. This was why he preferred to work alone and why he never let anyone in. In his opinion a person was only capable of ever being truly loyal to his or herself; and even then someone often did things that went against his or her own best interests.

So there was no way that he would ever let someone have that much power over him as to know any of his secrets. Though, he had won followers, especially those of his inner circle, by letting them think that they knew him best. He may not have cared for personal relationships, but he sure knew how to get what he wanted out of people by pushing the right buttons.

As he made his way towards the Potter's humble cottage, which in his opinion was beneath someone like James Potter with his wealth and pureblood status, he could practically taste the sweet victory that would soon be his.

Because, ever since he had heard of the prophecy more than a year ago, he had been eager to rid the world of that child before they could ever really become a threat to his plans. He was so focused and intent on securing his path to immortality that he completely disregarded the warnings that this babe would have power that he knew not.

There was simply no way that that could ever be true.

For he was Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard since Salazar Slytherin and he would swiftly cut down any threat that stood in his way to complete and utter dominance of the magical world.

How could a child ever hope to stand against him? The Dark Lord had access to such magic and power that there was nothing in his mind that could ever beat him. And he had his Horcruxes just in case something occurred that he hadn't foreseen. Which was doubtful!

He thought of everything.

The Dark Lord hadn't gotten to where he had in life by doubting his abilities or questioning plans that he had spent a great deal of time on.

And his evil smirk became truly terrifying as he crossed over the threshold that was protected by the now-useless Fidelius Charm.

Again, he wanted to cackle at Pettigrew's betrayal; people were so easy to manipulate with a little fear and intimidation. Oh how Pettigrew had jumped at the chance to save his own hide at the expense of his friends.

As he approached the front door, he slowed. Through the old, textured glass he caught a glimpse of the happy Potter family in the living room. They were tossing the little brat up and down in the air and making the most ridiculous faces at him. It almost caused him to be sick.

Thankfully, the last joyful moment of the Potter family didn't last much longer for him to see.

In his eagerness to cement his dominance over wizarding Britain, he blasted through the door and reveled in the familiar sounds of panic and fear that his presence naturally brought out in people.

The woman, who he knew to be the muggleborn Lily Potter because he had tried recruiting the both of them to his cause because they were highly skilled with magic, took the child and ran upstairs while James bravely stood between him and his target.

"You will never get him!" James screamed before engaging the Dark Lord in a duel.

He lasted much longer than his victims normally did. It just proved how tragic it was that they hadn't joined his side when they had the chance; for many of his own Death Eaters could barely string a coherent sentence together, especially Crabbe and Goyle. Shame.

But in the end James Potter fell like so many before him. Knowing that he was even closer to his end-goal of making sure that no one would ever be a challenge to him, the Dark Lord stepped over the bruised and bloody body and headed up the stairs to get Harry.

He found the child with his mother in the nursery and thought it was pitiful that she didn't even have a wand on her. To someone like him that didn't make any sense: a wand was everything to a witch or wizard. He had no idea what she was possibly thinking. At least James had attempted to fight him.

But still, he supposed that he should reward his loyal follower who had made him aware that the prophecy had existed in the first place by giving him what he had desired. It wasn't something that he really wanted to do, but it was all a part of his plan at playing people's emotions to keep them loyal. Or else he would have little Pettigrews all around him, betraying him left and right.

Fear and death only did so much to keep his Death Eaters in line; occasionally, he needed to reward one or two for his methods to be most effective. T make them think they had a chance of being his most favored.

"Stand aside, you silly girl," he said in an annoyed tone, keen to get on with things.

"No, not Harry. Take me! Take me instead!" she pleaded with him again and again.

He was becoming agitated with her incessant stubbornness to save her son; didn't the woman realize that she could live if she only sacrificed that whiney brat? Surely she could have another one if she wanted a child that badly. The Dark Lord didn't understand saving another person at your own expense for any reason.

"You don't have to die," he said very matter-of-factly. Though, his focus was on the small child that she carried in her arms. The infant was foreign to him and just as pathetic as he expected that it would be. Except that the baby's eyes were the color of his favorite curse and they bore into him like no other pair had ever been able to do before. It unnerved him.

But again, she kept imploring him that if he just had kindness and a heart that he would kill her instead of her child.

He snorted derisively at her assumption that the Dark Lord wasn't capable of feeling; he cared very much for his own well-being, thank you very much.

"Very well," he said without a care in the world over whether she lived or died.

His eyes grew hungry as he whipped his wand out before him.

"Avada Kedavra," he said as if he were greeting an old friend.

The jet of green careened towards the woman and she fell instantly to the ground. All of the life was soon gone from her eyes.

The baby had fallen to the ground as well. Magic, of course, had protected it from getting hurt. At that age, the innate magic of children could see them through a lot of incidents that would normally kill or severely injure muggles.

Now it was just the Dark Lord and the child who was prophesized to have the power to be able to destroy him. As if any witch or wizard would ever know the locations to his Horcruxes or be able to destroy them! Preposterous.

He steadied his wand before the child and took one last look at his eyes, forcing himself to not become distracted by their color or the look of unknown recognition that he found in those glowing orbs.

"Avada Kedavra!" he cast again with a triumphant jeer.

However, an explosion of such magnitude erupted about the room from the moment that his curse hit the child's forehead. Pain, unimaginable pain coursed through his body as he felt the spell rebound upon him.

His spirit was ripped from his body and he was driven out of the room and into the night with such force that many towns passed underneath him before what was left of his spirit had settled in the middle of an empty and dark forest.

But not all of his soul that was present in his body had gone with him. For a part of him, a very small part indeed, had remained behind. He had split his soul so many times over the years to create his Horcruxes that his rebounded curse had chipped away a mere fragment from his unstable core and left it to float about in the decimated nursery.

The sliver of soul barely had any consciousness to it and it couldn't quite be considered to be a Horcrux with how much of the original soul that it did posses. Nor had it been made in the correct manner to bind it to his original body. However, it had just enough to it to be able to look about the room and assume that it had just been momentarily separated from its larger part.

And when the fragment of soul bound itself with the other entity in the room that felt so much like what it was used to, it didn't even realize that it now resided in the forehead of the child. It felt at home.

Albus looked over the baby that Hagrid had handed to him only moments before as he walked along Privet Drive in Little Whinging.

"But Albus, you can't be serious!" Minerva McGonagall said in a clipped tone while walking alongside him. Her underlying Scottish brogue, normally kept in check, was evident given her shock that the old man was actually going to go through with this.

"Certainly, Minerva. There is no safer place for him." Albus responded in an 'I know better than you tone.'

She ignored his condescending remark.

"I have been watching this house all day. They are the worst sort of muggles, Albus! They won't raise him properly, even if they are family."

The Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was at a loss as to why Albus Dumbledore was ignoring her opinion now when he had asked for it so often during the recent war.

She was about ready to say something else when Harry let out an agitated cry. Even though he was only a year old, he knew that she was trying to protect him. He could feel the good intentions coming off of her, but it was overshadowed by the strange feelings that he was getting from the old one who was holding him. This man made him uncomfortable and he didn't feel anything good coming off of him at all.

Albus, however, was quick to cast a sleeping charm on the child as it started to wiggle in his arms.

And by the time he placed the child on the doorstep of the Dursleys, the child was asleep. Then he added an envelope that would explain everything to his Aunt and Uncle.

Minerva was hesitant to leave young Harry and had a horrible feeling in her stomach when she eventually turned and followed Albus reluctantly back to Hogwarts. She would always regret that moment.

Now, the future of the wizarding world may have gone differently had Petunia Dursley looked upon the child with as much love and fondness as she looked upon her own son with. However, the pain and envy at not getting to join her sister in that fantastical world had left too deep of a scar. She loathed magic and resented her sister for what she had gotten to experience. But most of all she despised Dumbledore, who had rejected her eleventh hour plea to go to Hogwarts. He had kept her apart from her sister and he was the reason why her life had turned out like it had.

She only kept the child because of the threats in the letter that could befall her precious dudekins if she resisted. Apparently, Harry's presence would provide safety to their home and that was the only reason why she took him in.

And so she never loved nor properly cared for the child that she found on her doorstep the next morning. But it was the hate and contempt that she had for the child that would forever change the future of the world.

Comments? Reviews are great!

I'm going to go with Snape hearing the entire prophecy and passing it on. I never understood how he only heard the first three lines, was noticed, got kicked out, and then Dumbles still had time to hear the entire thing without missing anything. Not buying it.