Author's Note: Hiii! Well, I'm the kind of person that reads into a type of story (in this case time travel) then feels the need to write one of my own. Ahem. I really shouldn't be doing this, I have two stories already on the go... but whatever. Inspired by fic "Juxtaposition" by prone2dementia - I definitely recommend- (as well as many others in the genre). Its a shame that there isn't much of this kind o fic around- if you guys can recommend anything, I'd be happy to check it out. I don't mind slash :) (This fic is not Slash/Yaoi, but more a dark/rivalry friend/enemy thing.) I'm sort of writing this on the fly, so don't expect updates every couple of days. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own this

WARNING: this fic is AU, it will include some screwing about with the Harry Potter timeline and character histories, as well as contain spoilers for the books. Character deaths. Swearing. Rating may change. Sporadic updates...

Published: 13 December 2009

Chapter 1: Of 1935

The crowds had parted for them. Both of them had said their parts, but in the end there was only one way that the battle could have gone.

The battle of Hogwarts. Casualties strewn on both sides, a circle of spectators surrounding the both of them- there was no escape. His face, twisted into a mask of disgust and hatred, and his lips spat the final curse that would seal both their fates.

"Avada Kedavra!"


The spells hit, both wizards feeling the strain of the power reverberating back into their hands. Harry's wand pushing for disarmament while Voldemort, with the power of the Elder Wand, pushing for death.

But something went wrong.

The Elder Wand was trying to refuse its wielder's wishes. Of course it was! It would not kill it's master! It would not kill it's true wielder!

Where green and red light had met, molten silver and gold was spilling forth.

A light- brighter than anything Harry had ever seen before- enveloped the duelling wizards, blinding those present before finally fading.

Voldemort crumpled to the ground, dead, wand turning to dust in his fingertips.

Harry was nowhere to be seen.


Harry was in pain.

Scratch that. Harry was in agony. The Boy-Who-Lived was no stranger to pain... but this was something else. Worse than anything he had experienced, Cruciatus included- he screamed. The light was pressing in at him from all sides- he couldn't breathe-!

...And then it was over.

Harry flew to the floor with a hard thump, any air that had been left in his lungs forcefully being pushed out. He sat up, struggling to see past the blackness threatening to overtake his vision.

World finally coming into focus, he pushed himself roughly to his feet, breathing in the salty air, trying to calm his fast-beating heart. The sun was high in the sky proving for a pleasant day, but... Something felt off.

He wasn't in Hogwarts anymore.

Feeling for his wand, his heart came to a halt when he realised that he didn't have it. Patting himself down, desperately trying to locate it, he came to another startling conclusion. His clothes were about ten sizes too big. And there were no sign of his shoes. He stumbled up a roughly cobbled street unsteadily, ignoring the looks he was getting from the strangely dressed people passing him. He finally came to a halt by a dingy looking newsagents.

It was by chance that his eye caught on the bundle of newspapers sitting innocently outside the shop. It was by chance that Harry had distractedly read the headline. He picked up the paper, hands shaking.

"Young sir? Are you alright?" A concerned feminine voice rang out beside him. Harry didn't hear her. Slowly looking up to catch sight of his reflection in the dirty shop window, green eyes widened behind broken glasses and his face lost all colour.

Swamped in clothes that were ten sizes too big, he didn't look older than eight or nine years old.

The paper dropped from his hands, headline blaring for the world to see.

"Adolf Hitler Pushing For Conscription- What Is He Planning? May 31st 1935"

Harry turned on his tail and ran.

This wasn't possible- it wasn't possible! What- how could this have happened?! How was this even possible?! Forgetting the previous "hows", Harry came to an abrupt halt, feeling sand pooling between his toes. He was standing on a beach.

Forgetting how he got there... how was he going to get back?

He was alone, wandless, and helpless. He had no way of contacting anyone. He knew no-one! He was in past for God's sake- he looked like a damn child! He didn't even know if they'd won the war- if he'd beat Voldemort.

He was alone.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as the weight of the situation finally hit him. Just what was he meant to do?

Feeling his legs going from under him, he plopped to the sandy floor, head in hands. He could hear the quiet sloshing of the ocean spread out before him, but ignored it.

Just another screwed up day in the life of Harry Potter.

Harry didn't know how long he'd been sat there. He didn't care. He was content to sit on the soft sand, depressed, but someone had been rude enough to run into him. He was kicked forward, face shoved into the sand. Sitting up spluttering out his sandy meal he glared at the two that had interrupted his brooding. He wasn't prepared for what he saw.

A girl who looked around the same age as he did, with short brown hair and a chubby face. A stringy boy with sandy blonde hair who also looked around the same age. There was nothing too remarkable about them, they were dressed rather oddly, but Harry brushed that off. What had caught his eye... what had united the both of them... was the looks on their faces.

Already light skin looked an ashen grey, tears were leaking out of their eyes. They were shaking. They looked terrified.

Feeling something that Hermione had once called his "Hero complex" come into play, Harry decided to find out what was wrong to see if he could help. He was the adult of the situation, after all. Even if he didn't look it. And these kids looked like they could use some help.

"Hey- are you alright?" Mentally, he smacked his palm against his forehead. Obviously they weren't alright. He decided to take another route. "What are your names?" The kids stayed silent, shrinking back in fear. Harry felt his eyebrows furrow. Something was definitely wrong here. He opened his mouth again, when a voice rung out behind him.

"Amy. Dennis. We have to go- we can't keep Mrs Cole waiting now, can we? We're going home soon." A voice that sounded a little older, (if not a little bratty), than the boy whose mouth it was coming out of. Harry spun around to face a boy who looked startlingly familiar. Dark hair and dark eyes- he heard the girl behind him give a strangled whimper.

It couldn't be-

"Amy Benson! Dennis Bishop! Tom! Where did you three run off to? I told you to stay with the group!" A middle aged, familiar looking, lady run up to the four children and was about to start scalding them when she noticed the state of "Amy" and "Dennis". The two children launched themselves at her, wrapping their arms around her legs. She looked at them, bewildered, before seemingly putting two and two together and glaring at "Tom".

"You- what did you do?" She hissed out in a strained voice, trying to comfort the two howling children.

Dark eyes glared back at her defiantly. "I didn't do anything. Ask them if you don't believe me." The woman pulled the kids away from her, asking them if what the other boy was saying was true. All she had gotten was twin frightened glances at Tom before both children had shaken their heads in the negative and launched themselves at her again.

Harry looked on in barely disguised horror. There was no way-

"You, boy- where are your parents? It's getting late, you should be getting home." The woman was addressing him. Harry swallowed. Just what was he supposed to say? Defenceless, he didn't want to be anywhere near- "Boy, can't you hear me?" Green eyes snapped to her face.

His mouth opened, then shut again as he looked away. He had no way of contacting anyone. He had no money and no magic. He was alone, and in the past. And he did need a place to stay while he sorted this out...

And if memory served him correctly... Tom Riddle was on a trip with his orphanage. He glanced uncertainly at the boy stood beside him. Glittering dark eyes- so different from the crimson they would be in the future- stared appraisingly back at him. Harry swallowed his nervousness. He had been ready to fight this nightmare back home- he wasn't going to back down to some bratty child.

Looking the lady in the eyes, he finally spoke. "I- I don't have any parents- they're dead."

He saw Tom shift, his eyes narrowed.

Harry Potter didn't know what he had just gotten himself into.

Author's Note: Well then? What do you think? Tom is around 9 here, due to be 10 in the December. Harry is 8, due to be 9 in the July. But that'll be explained next chapter. I'm going by roughlly the history of what is going on at the time with WW2, but don't kill me if its a little screwed up xD. Til next time!

Please R&R