Tom Riddle, age 5, hated the orphanage he lived in. Wool's Orphanage was an awful place for the small child. Independent, he barely cried or give a fuss, so the caretaker Mrs. Cole barely paid any attention to him. The children did not talk to him, not that he wanted them to. They kept away from him due to strange events that occurred around the tall boy. Sometimes a boy's toy would break or disappear, a girl that Tom did not like would lose her doll, which somehow ended up in the attic; the bed of a boy caught on fire in the middle of the night. Though Tom did not care. They left him alone, and if they didn't, he would take some possessions from them to keep them away.
One day, however, a very unusual, freakish, thing happened. It was raining outside, sheets of rain slamming against the window of Tom's bedroom, lighting flashing the skyline every minute or so, the thunder rattling the orphanage as electricity coursed through the air. While all this happened, the young Riddle was in his room, sitting on his bed. He recently took a book from a boy a couple of years older than him, and decided to read it as he was very, very intelligent for his age. His bed was right against the window, the sharp sound of rain splattering against it was relaxing to the young boy, the frequent lightning providing extra light as he read the book too advance for a child his age.
They said that it is a hurricane, or something like it. Very unusual for Britain, hurricanes are supposed to be an American problem Mrs. Cole complained as she made sure all the kids were down at the basement as the storm intensified. Although Tom did not go with them, he didn't want to. He just wanted to sit and read and experience this freakish phenomenon in the comfort of his bare room. Besides, it did not seem so bad. It was just a little water and a breeze.
Then his window shattered.
Tom gave a yell of surprised, and did his best to shield his face with the book as he did his best to back away. However, the precise moment he moved, as if Thor or Zeus was aiming at him directly, a powerful purple lightning bolt struck into the room, hitting the boy.
The pain was overwhelming. He could feel his flesh burn, bones cook, and organs sizzle. He felt as if he was being pulled roughly by both sides, Thor and Zeus using his body as a tug-of-war rope before, somehow, he felt himself starting to split. His head was pounding, his brain feeling as if he was being ripped apart, downward and downward the rip went. Tom could feel his body going numb, the pain edging away. He thought his vision would double, that he could turn his head to see half of his body standing bloodied and burnt to a crisp, but when he got enough control to turn his head a couple of inches, he screamed.
There, standing looking perfectly untouched was him. Another him. There were two Toms! The two stared at each other for a second that seemed to last an eternity. They stared at each other's handsome faces, before looking at their hands. Though Tom was just struck by an angry bolt of lightning, both Toms were untouched! Not even a blemish on their skin! But then, why were they're two of them? What happened?
Before Tom could ask, before he could question the logic of how there could be two Tom Riddles standing in the same room, he felt himself flying away. Into the air, through the hurricane. Lightning continued to strike at Tom, but none of them hurt. He felt very strange. Was he dead? No, he can't be dead. The other Tom is living, so he has to be living too. But living how? He could feel his body changing, it was warping, losing form. His skin and clothes were becoming the same shade of angry purple that the lightning bolt that hit him was.
He was flying higher and higher, through the clouds, and through the atmosphere. He was raising and raising, the land beneath him becoming smaller and smaller. His vision became strange. He wasn't sure how to describe it. There wasn't the sky, or stars, or even the moon. But colors. A collage of colors that mixed and weaved together before clashing violently. Tom felt he was traveling. But couldn't think of where. The colors continued to rush against him, melding and clashing at the same time as he continued to travel to… wherever.
Then, he started to fall. The colors started to fade, going out of his vision, being replaced by fluffy white clouds and a blue hue sky beneath him. The buildings he was falling towards looked strange, alienlike to the young Riddle. He could feel his cosmic body taking shape again, his senses began to return as he felt the rush of air pushing against him as he fell, his clothes billowing in the wind. The buildings were closer now, and they looked so foreign to Riddle. They were taller, shinier, newer. The boy could not begin to make sense of it when, as suddenly as the lightning struck him, he hit the ground.
It hurt. But not much. His whole body was sore as if he slept funny in bed. He looked around, he was in a busy street, filled with people wearing funny and odd clothing. There were barely any men in suits, women were wearing pants, and… some had these contraptions that blared out noise. The cars, if they were cars, looked totally different as well. Riddle was confused, he was lost. He had no idea where he was. Finding the first person, a woman wearing a hideous pink dress with curly blonde hair carrying what seemed to be a giant purse on her arm, he asked, "Excuse me, ma'am, where am I?"
"Ugh, get lost kid, I'm late to a meeting," the woman said rudely.
Tom did not like that. How dare she acted that way! "Excuse me," he said again. "I'm lost and I don't know where I am."
"Yeah, feel for you kid, but I'm late so—" She gave a shriek as the purse split open, money and make-up falling out along with a notepad. "You little shite!" she screamed, kicking Tom away. "Officer! Officer! That kid tried to rob me!"
"I didn't—" Tom was cut off as two men wearing black uniforms ran up to the boy, each taking an arm.
"Alright kid, where's your folks?" one of the officers asked.
"I don't have any—look, I am sorry, but I do not know where I am," Tom said, doing his best to keep his calm.
"Don't have any? No relatives?" the same officer asked, ignoring Tom's question.
"No, where am I?" Tom asked again.
The two officers looked at each other. Then, making a decision, they carried Tom to a car. "Well boy, you in luck," the second officer said. "You have a home now."
"But I don't know where—"
"Where do you think you are lad? You stupid or something?" the second officer finally laughed.
Tom stared at the two of them, completely shocked at their behavior. It was ten minutes later he realized where they were sending him to: an orphanage.
This orphanage, however, looked completely different from the orphanage than Wool's orphanage. It was a gray stone building with open windows. There was a playground to the side where a group of children wearing second-hand clothes were playing. Tom looked around frantically, hopelessly, as he tried to answer the single question that racked through his mind the last twenty minutes: Where was he and what the hell happened?
It was by fortunate chance that he caught a glimpse at a calendar hanging on the wall. But it couldn't be right, no it has to be wrong. According to the calendar, it was August, 1985. But that had to be wrong, it just had to be. For not only half an hour ago was it June, in 1932. Where did the half-century go? Tom was so confused, so stumped, that he barely noticed what was going on around him. At some time, somebody asked him for his name and age, which he gave. There were papers being signed, smiles being given. The two officers looked smugly happy, as if they have saved the world, and Tom was escorted deeper into the strange orphanage. Away from everyone else, up a set of stairs, and into a small room.
It was painted light blue; the walls were completely bare except for a clock that hung on the wall. There were two dressers and a single wardrobe pressed against the wall, and two beds on opposite walls. On the dresser was a black box with a grey screen inside. It wasn't a mirror, as on the bottom there were various buttons. "This is it," a cheerful voice said, "your new home! Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get used to it. If you want to use the telly, keep the volume low and it must be off before nine. I'll let you get yourself settled while I get some clothes for you."
And the voice was gone. Tom was alone, completely confused, out of place, and strangely very, very alone. He had somehow traveled a little more than fifty years into the future in half an hour. Tom couldn't wrap his mind around it. How was it possible? What even happened? What about that other Tom? Is he stuck in the nineteen-thirties while this Tom is in the eighties? What happened during the last fifty years?
His head was full of questions, but there were no answers to be in sight. Instead he was in another orphanage, another room, surrounded by children who'll think he's freakish. Sighing, Tom guessed that at the end of the day, no matter if it was the thirties or eighties, he was in the same situation. He only hoped that there were snakes around. He liked talking to them.
It has been two years since Tom came into the eighties through the freak hurricane, and he had adjusted to his new life. After getting "new" clothes, Tom spent the first few months living at the orphanage, named Child Care Institution, learning about what happened during the last fifty years. Reading books meant for kids older than him, Tom learned as much of what he missed. At first, the children were impressed that Tom could read such advanced books, but that impressment turned into annoyance, and fear, as the strange events surrounding him started again. He didn't want to make friends with any of them. They annoyed him. The only people he actively spoke to were the few odd snakes he could find lying around, and even then it was to order them to do things. Just as at Wool's Orphanage, Tom began to have a sort of collection of other children's possessions. Dolls, toys, and weird plastic things called "action figures" all laid in a box at the top of the wardrobe. Tom somehow convinced the matron to have a small bookshelf in his bedroom, which he quickly filled with books he obtained, either at a nearby library, or through his collection of others' possessions.
Just as he was reading two years ago in nineteen-thirty-two, Tom was reading a book as the door to his room opened. The matron walked in (Tom never bothered to learn her name), followed by a crying boy. The boy seemed to be his age with shaggy black hair and round glasses, pressed against his forehead as he did his best to wipe tears from his emerald eyes. Tom took some interest in the fact that the boy had a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead, but ultimately ignored him.
"Tom… this is Harry Potter," the matron said sweetly. "Harry, Tom is going to be your roommate, okay? If you need any help at all, Tom will help you."
Though still crying, the boy nodded. "Good, if you want, you can watch the telly, Tom doesn't, just know that it has to be off by nine and don't have it too loud," the woman continued. The boy just cried some more and nodded. "Well, I'll be back with the rest of your clothes. Have fun you two." And she left.
The boy still continued to cry. It was a pathetic sight. His entire body was shaking, his voice seemed hoarse, and cheeks puffed out. "Will you shut up?" Tom snapped.
The boy stopped immediately. "S-Sorry."
"Shut up. …Why are you crying?"
"Because—because Uncle Vernon—"
"You have an uncle, yet you're here?"
The boy nodded. "I didn't mean—I didn't mean to do it—the snake told me to—it's her fault!"
That got Tom's interest. "What do you mean 'the snake told me to?'" he asked.
The boy looked at him. "Nothing, "he cried out. "I didn't say—"
The boy yipped and said quickly, "I talk to snakes and the snake told me to prank my cousin!"
"You talk to snakes?"
The boy nodded. "They find me… whisper things to me. That's not normal, is it?"
"No, no it is not," Tom said. "You're a freak."
That only got the boy crying again. "However," Tom said above the cries. "You are not alone."
"W-What do you mean?" the boy sniffled.
"I can speak to snakes too," Tom said.
"You can?" the boy asked, looking hopeful.
"I can. They tell me things as well, such as where Amanda is hiding her dolls, or what Jayden did with the older girls," Tom said. He stared at the boy. "What was your name again?"
"Harry Potter," Harry sniffled.
"Well… Harry Potter," Tom said. He stood off his bed and walked up to the boy. Harry only stood to his chest. "I think I'm going to keep you," Tom said.
"Yes. You're mine now," Tom said, giving the boy a smooth smile. "That means that we… look out for each other."
"You mean… you'll be my friend?" Harry asked hopefully.
"If you'll put it that way, yes," Tom said. The boy smiled and shook Tom's hand.
"Then I'll be yours!" Harry said eagerly. "I'll be your friend." Tom just smirked, maybe it was a good thing that the lightning bolt struck him.
A/N: Whenever there's a Tom/Harry love story involving time travel, (as far as I can find) it is always Harry going into the past. I looked at that and think "Nah, we can make this crazier." So I did. Just so you know, there will be some time skips until we reach fourth year where the main story takes place.