Note: Revised 8/16/10

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Oh hells, I wish I did.

A/N: My first fanfic on this account, and probably ever. I'm quite a picky person and in this weird paranoid way I sometimes do these long revisions. You'll probably see revisions but I'll note it on the bottom if I had. I'll try to update regularly and I hope to finish this story, for once.

Pairing: Harry Potter/ Tom Riddle

Summary: Post DH, Harry Potter, through the use of dark magic, travels back to 1932 with the sole purpose of killing Tom Riddle. His plan quickly changes and he ends up adopting the future Dark Lord, hoping to change him for the greater good.

Warning: incest TR/HP, slash, straight, sexual content, time travel, language, awesomeness, violence, smut, and boy on boy action. I think this plot has been rarely used. Yes it has been done, but… I mean compared to all the marriage law FFs I've read I've only seen two or three FFs of this plot ever remade. If you guys know any FFs that have similar plots like this, message me and let me know. Other than that, I like to think that I made this very original. Enjoy!


It was the final day that would decide the fate of the Wizarding World as they knew it.

Around them, the forest was burning up in flames, along with the owlery, taking the animals within it to their graves. Swarming darkness popped up around the outer perimeters of the castle, near the forbidden forest. The darkness molded itself into figures of bodies, before finally revealing the Death Eaters. Like foot soldiers, they had matching evil smirks on their faces as they marched up to the stone bridge connecting Hogwarts to the forbidden forest. They were horrible and confident, aware that they were only inches away from an easy victory.

Bellatrix Lestrange and her legion came from the west end of the forest, while Barty Crouch Jr. and his pack came from the east end, fully surrounding the castle in an army of shadows and darkness. After their first line of Death Eaters came in, more popped up out of nowhere in the back and formed another row in an orderly manner, wand at the ready- waiting for instructions from their superiors. Familiar faces were seen in the ranks; Malfoy, Dolohov, Pettigrew, Yaxley, Greyback, and others not so familiar. Werewolves, provided by Greyback, scoured around the Death Eaters, barking wildly while only being restrained by whips and leashes.

One Harry Potter gazed down at the battlefield from his high place in the Headmaster's tower. He felt cowardly and ashamed; he should be there with them! He should be the one leading the battle against Voldemort! He spared a quick guilty glance at the Order's army, lined up at the entrance of Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione were lined at the front, wands at the ready, with Kingsley Shacklebot and Alastor Moody siding both of them. Behind them were a mixture of Aurors, Order members, and volunteers who would probably never survive the battle.

On the front lines, Ron's fists shook out of fear as he watched the black parade march closer and closer towards them, only about a hundred meters away. Feeling soft fingers tread gently on the back of his shaking palm, he stopped his twitching. He gazed upwards and saw Hermione -his angel, his life- smiling one of those smiles that always told him everything was going to be okay. He believed her, always did and always will. He squeezed back and affectionately brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, before quietly whispering, "I love you, Hermione Jean Granger."

She caressed his cheek with the hand that he kissed and replied, "I love you, Ronald Bilius Weasley." It was a sacred moment for both of the barely young adults, their first confession to each other ever. Of course, they had realized their feelings, but it was only at recent. They had not been able to date like normal couples or develop a relationship because the war demanded their attention. They had to put feelings aside and help Harry find the Horcruxes, but even now it was too late.

"Will you marry me?" Streams of tears had already started flowing down both lovers' cheeks. Ron did not have a ring prepared, but made do with transfiguring a lock of his red hair into a golden ring with a bright red ruby in its center, "Mum always said that the only gift worth giving is a portion of thyself." Hermione chuckled and nodded furiously, "Yes! Yes!" Ron smiled happily through his tears and reddened nose, he slipped the ring onto her finger and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. "Forever, 'Mione." He whispered lovingly.

"Forever." She replied before slipping her fingers into his and latching on, continuing to watch the advancing of darkness.

Not long after the dark army settled in front of the closed entrance, did a shadow appear in front of them. The darkness that emitted from the figure grew in itself until it became a large black orb made of swirling shadowy material. It continued growing and suddenly before anyone could guess, the shadow ball exploded and sent the stone gate flying towards the school. Fortunately, it swerved away from the army. The dark sphere quickly changed into the bony-figure of Lord Voldemort, clad in his traditional black cloak. He stepped elegantly through the entrance and his Death Eaters stood their ground, waiting for instructions. The Dark Lord sneered at the Light army and grasped his pale ivory wand.

"Look at all you fools... How you continue to resist me, knowing in the end you would all die, one by one, perishing under my Death Eater's wands. How you would all betray me for your savior, the one that sat by the side as your family members died, all because of him."

"You liar! Don't listen to him!" Hermione harshly declared.

Voldemort stared at her with an evil smirk before continuing, "You call him your savior, yet he is not even here to help you fight. But alas, as I am the most merciful and powerful Dark Lord, I shall give you a final chance. Yield your forces. Sacrifice the Boy-Who-Lived to me… and all of you will remain unharmed. Refuse my request… and I will commence the slaughter of all who dared to conceal him from me. You have one minute, make your choice now."

Harry stared at the scene; he wanted to give himself up but knew it would be for nothing. Voldemort would lie and destroy them anyways. Even if he gave himself up it would not be enough to buy Voldemort's mercy.

When nobody answered, and instead glared or sneered at the snake face, Voldemort gave a heavy sigh like a father tired of his troublesome children, before he spoke conclusively. "Kill them." And thus the trudging of heavy foots and the cries of war sounded through the hills of Hogwarts. Magic blasted at their targets in an array of colors. Yells of 'Avada Kedavra' and 'Sectumsempra' rang from dry lips. Death Eaters were mildly surprised that the Light army would take such measures as to use illegal dark spells against them. Minutes into the battle, Harry knew they wouldn't win. Already he was in agony, Moody – the greatest Auror of all time – had died, along with Tonks and her husband - his friend - Remus. Ron and Hermione were holding their own, but anybody could see that they were close to exhaustion.

Voldemort paced towards them with a wicked smirk donned on his face. He raised his wand up and mouthed the words which would finish as, 'Avada Kedavra.

Harry closed his eyes, he could not watch any further. Abruptly, a gentle hand was placed onto his shoulder. He jumped and turned to see Dumbledore smiling sadly at him, "It's time." He led him towards his private quarters, which was hidden in a wall. There were several ceremony candles lit and on the floor, carved right into the wood, was a five star pentagram, filled with a mysterious white dust that sparkled with the gleam of candlelight.

"You know what to do Harry." Harry nodded and entered the pentagram.

"Do it swiftly, and you save us all. Fail, and there might never be a second chance." Dumbledore stared heavily at him as Harry nodded once again.

"I'm ready, sir."

The old wizard offered him a sad smile and patted his shoulders. Picking up his book, he walked over towards his drawer and took out two twin knives. Both lethally sharpened to cut easily through flesh. He handed one to Harry and commenced the spell reading.

"Chronus Lunum." The first side of the pentagram instantly lit up, and Harry made his first cut on his wrist. Blood dripped in the middle of the pentagram, only to disappear through the floor.

"Through blood, may life be reborn." Harry hastily cut his other wrist and watched as the second side similarly lit up.

"Ultimo Transfero." Dumbledore stepped into the pentagram and immediately gasped in pain as the pentagram sucked the magic out of him to power itself. The third side had lit up.

"Through life, may time be reborn!" Dumbledore yelled with all his might, quickly slashing both his wrists. The blood filled the pentagram, the white dust turning a clashing crimson. Sudden crimson light circled around Dumbledore's body, clutching around him until he fell over, dead. Harry cried, he cried over his mentors death, he cried over his friends suffering, and most importantly he cried because his poor destiny as the chosen one. The pentagram lit up once again in yellow light, covering Harry's body in sparkles and glitter. It felt good… for a moment. Immediately Harry could feel a sharp pain that erupted from his stomach. It twisted and pulled at his organs and played with his bones. It felt even more horrible then the torture curse itself. He closed his eyes, feeling his nails embed themselves into his palms. Pure agony, would describe the feeling. Yet there was no blood, none at all.

A sudden bang declared Death Eater's forceful entry into the room. Harry opened his eyes and for a moment, time just stopped. Bellatrix stopped in mid-attack, the green light of an 'Avada Kedavra' bursting through the tip of her wand. Voldemort stood behind her with a ghastly expression of surprise. In a flash, Harry could feel another explosion of pain, only now it radiated through his whole body, making his head feel like it was being repeatedly slammed into a stone wall. He lost consciousness, only to awake moments later… near an orphanage.


He watched all of them. They made him sick, disgusted; those filthy brats. Those children happily conversing with their future parents, but he wasn't allowed to be down there with the rest of them. Today was another adoption day, at Wool's orphanage, where they would open their doors and display chilled refreshments in the dining hall for parents who were looking to adopt. However, like all adoption days, Mrs. Cole would ask the caretaker Roderick to lock him up in his room as to not 'ruin' the chance for the rest of the children. It was hardly even a room. It was a somewhat large, old broom closet that was set next to the building's dusty attic. He hated his room, it was always chilly and dusty, and on particular winter days, he couldn't sleep because the deadly chill always kept him awake. Roderick, the orphanage's caretaker, was a menace that took careful consideration to punish him whenever he got the chance. Out of all of them, he especially hated the man. He hated the nasty smirk on the bastard's ugly face whenever he finally had time to torment him. He hated how the meaty arms would always jab at him as they passed each other in the halls. He especially hated how Roderick was so imaginative, pitiless, and brutal in his torture. When he was five years old, he 'accidentally' pushed a meaty boy, who was bullying him, down the stairs. It really was an accident, he didn't know what happened. That night, he was dragged from his bed and had gotten beaten by Roderick within an inch of his life. There were still scars on his back to prove it.

He would never be adopted; nobody wanted him because he was a monster. They had repeated this so many times to him that he had actually started believing it. He was a monster, a freak. He could make bad things happen to people who were mean to him. Only recently, he had set a girl's hair on fire for stealing his book, but he had no idea how it happened. It just did. Like all the other times.

He continued staring from his place on top of the stairs, convincing himself that he didn't care. He hated them, hated them all. He didn't need any of them. He watched and sneered until he got fed up. It wasn't odd for a six year old to cause a tantrum, but he was no ordinary six year old. He had pride, and as he stomped back into his bedroom, already noticing his eyes fill with tears, he willed himself not to cry. Tom shut his door and stomped towards his window. He held it all back, the need to explode and scream at the world. "Lock it away, you don't care, you're better than them." Repeating the mantra to himself, Tom gripped his fists and furrowed his eyebrows. He needed to get out of here.

Flashing his eyes at the park nearby, he watched around the area for any signs of his main tormentor. Seeing no sign of him, he reached carefully for the silver railing next to his window. The railing stretched conveniently from the high roof all the way to the gravel cement floor. This wasn't the first time he escaped. He clutched the silver railing and began climbing, using the spots of missing brick holes as leverage. Once touching solid ground, he began scampering off towards the sunny playground.

Sooner then later, a large beefy hand shot out of nowhere and gripped his right shoulder. A hand he knew all too well, with its foul meaty stench and the multiple rings on each finger that had in the past collided with his face. He only had seconds to prepare before he was yanked backwards, falling face first into the streets. His knees were harshly scabbed along with his elbows, but other than that and the oncoming shock, he was unharmed. Shaking nervously, he heard the creepy baritone voice.

"Hello little Tommy, what are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to stay in your room, hmm? Didn't I say that if you didn't I would take you to the basement and throttle you?" Mr. Roderick drawled with a sinister curl to his lips.

Tom instinctively crawled away, trying to bring space between his tormentor and himself.

"Please…no." Fear brought about tears and as they streamed down his face without his control, all he could think of was the whips and steel rods, and Roderick's fist flying towards him. His lips stretched in a deep frown before he winced, feeling the cut that he had gotten last night on his bottom lip split once again. Slowly, the blood clotted and flowed freely down his chin. He didn't attempt to move, there were bigger problems.

"Now, now Freak. I didn't give you permission to cry." Roderick sneered at him and raised his fist over his head. Tom cried once more and turned his head, bringing his arms up to defend himself. However, nothing came. He nervously took a quick peek and saw a man who grabbed Roderick's fist while it was in mid-swing. He was dressed…weirdly, in what seemed like a black suit jacket…but it had softer cloth then the regular men's thick brocade suits. Attached to its back collar was a strange… hood that peeked awkwardly outwards whilst on his back. His pant legs were made of denim, a cloth usually used for pullovers. Around his shoulder was a leather messenger bag and donned on his feet were a pair of rather odd looking flat shoes. As Tom took a quick glimpse at his face, he couldn't help but find himself fully enthralled by the young man. He was obviously charming, with his sculpted yet at the same time soft face and his shaggy, raven black hair. But within the depths of those emerald colored eyes, he saw something that perked his interest. A wizened, aged gaze that described what words could not.

"What are you doing?" The sweet, rough, deep baritone was like music to his ears. Tom watched frozenly as a seeping fire exploded from the terrifying gaze of his protector towards his tormentor. Although still in a terrified mood, he cheerfully realized; he liked this man.


Now I know you've seen this before, but please review. It's not for me to bother you, but for you to help me become a better writer by telling me what I need to fix, what I did wrong, and the like.