AU: Dumbledore didn't die from the horcrux (yet), the attack on Hogwarts didn't kill him but he is in hiding, as are the rest of the Order. Based a few days before Harry's birthday, Sirius is still alive. Enjoy. :D

The first thing Tom noticed when he opened his eyes was blood.

Eyes heavy, he clambered to his knees and peered around. The floor was soaked in blood. His palms and clothes were dripping. Tentatively, he drew a finger to his face. His skin was soaked in it.

He looked up and recoiled. Facing him, on the opposite wall, was a body.

The face had been horribly mutilated, its eye sockets empty and jaw hanging loosely in its skin. Tom could feel his pulse quicken.

He had no memory of the large marble hall he was in, or how he could have come to be there. He last remembered sitting in his dormitory in Hogwarts.

The smells of blood and flesh were overwhelming. He gagged, scorning himself for his weakness and scrambling to his feet. He slid in the blood but retained his balance. There were bodies everywhere. Men, women…Tom felt his throat clench. Children, savagely torn.

The grand marble hall looked like hell. It was cold, dark. A fire hummed lowly in the enormous grate but did nothing to heat the room. The small light resembled a candle in the expanse of the walls.

Tom's hand clenched his wand in his pocket. He could feel magic hanging in the air. Spells had been cast in this room not long ago. The person who killed these people was a wizard. Grindelwald or his followers? Had the castle been attacked? But this wasn't Hogwarts...

Voices drifted down from the staircase.

Tom looked quickly around. There was nowhere to hide here.

He cast a disillusionment charm and drew quickly against a wall, eyes trained on the doorway. He would have to be quiet and fast. He could hold his charm long enough to find out who had taken him here, but not forever.

A figure appeared. A pitiful looking man, all rags and wildness, holding the door open for those who followed him.

A man floated through the door in an ethereal manner, cloaks billowing like smoke. Tom felt his body stiffen. Perhaps man wasn't the right word. The creature was pale, completely white. It had large slit eyes that shone red, even from so far away. Its nose was flat, no more than two slits. Snake like and inhuman, it seemed revolting and powerful.

Tom had never seen anything like it. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't Grindelwald.

Men and women followed it, all fearful but revering. When they noticed the condition of the hall, they grew nervous, some appearing sick. The creature ghosted through the carnage, walking through the blood in a state of calm.

Tom sank more closely into the wall. He needed to get out. That much was clear.

"My Lord," one man addressed the creature, "The prisoners-"

"Have them cleaned away." Its voice was raspy and strained. "They would not co-operate, I felt no need to keep them any longer. Wormtail."

The pitiful looking man replied: "Yes, my Lord?"

"Take some of the bodies to Nagini. She will need to be fed."

The others settled somewhat, but still watched the creature nervously, casting spells to vanish the blood and levitate the bodies away. After a time, they had gone, leaving the creature alone.

Its head raised as it smelt the air. Eyes circled the walls and Tom didn't dare to breathe. The creature turned to the fireplace, watching the flames crackle.

Tom, hesitantly, crept along the wall. His charm would fade soon.

"Stop."

The word alone was nothing to fear but Tom felt his heart skip. How could it have heard him? He didn't see its ears.

"Reveal yourself now, or die."

For a moment, Tom considered his chances of running.

"That would be unwise."

The charm faded. Tom would have to earn his escape. If the creature was trained in legilimens, he would not be able to escape it easily.

The creature turned to face him. As it did, his face lost its calm and flickered into anger.

"Who are you?" It hissed.

Tom cursed himself and swallowed the fear in his chest. Why was he so afraid of that thing? It was repulsive, yes, but Tom knew better than to show fear.

"My name is Tom Riddle." he said in his boldest voice at that time.

The creature regarded him for a moment. In a heartbeat, it stood before him, peering down at him.

Tom jumped. It had moved so quickly. The creature was even more revolting closer to him. It laughed at his fear.

"Are you really?" it trailed. Tom could feel it prying around his mind but didn't dare try to stop it. He knew he wouldn't be able to.

"So you are." it said, more to itself than to Tom. "I thought, perhaps, polyjuice potion. Maybe one of the boy's friends had decided to try to fool my servants. But you are Tom Riddle." Its eyes shone. "I'm honoured."

It laughed - a cold, humourless sound. It made Tom feel cold. It was a horrible feeling, to feel so belittled.

Tom felt rejected and hated, admired by others, but never fearful at someone greater than himself. And yet, he knew this creature was more powerful than he was; the creature knew it too.

"Who are you?" Tom asked lowly.

The creature glowered at him, mouth forming a twisted smile. "You do not know? And yet, you are grown. You must be in your seventh year at school, yes?"

Tom nodded hesitantly.

"Then you must already know the name Voldemort."

Tom stiffened. "How do you know that name?"

The creature laughed again. "I know it because it is my name. I am Lord Voldemort." He watched Tom's eyes widen before continuing. "This is not Hogwarts, child. The year is 1997. How you came to be here, I do not know. Know that I am your future. I am Lord Voldemort."

Tom reeled. "I won't believe it."

"But you should."

The creature held Tom by the scruff of his shirt. "You must be nearing your seventeenth birthday. I know what you've done, what you've dreamt."

"I never dreamt you." Tom hissed, eyes wincing at the sight of the creature's face.

"A shame." Voldemort chuckled, "That you could not yet dream so far. Perhaps in time, you grow to be more daring. You're just a child; pitiful, cursed by that filthy name. You imagine a greater world but do not yet dare to claim it."

"Nothing about you seems great." Tom gasped, pain radiating from his neck. "Only deranged. If I am you, will you harm me?"

"I don't see why not." Voldemort murmured. "You have spoken to me with disrespect and the sight of you displeases me."

"Then you are mad." Tom glared.

"You have potential, child." Voldemort hissed in return. "But for now, you are worthless. Just a reminder of a time when I was weak and unprepared."

Voices sounded from the doorway and a man entered, masked.

"My Lord, I-" He noticed Tom's presence and the anger that marked his master's face. "My Lord!"

Voldemort flicked his wand, throwing Tom carelessly into the floor. "Take him to the dungeons. I will see to him personally soon. For now, we have preparations to make."

"Certainly, master." The figure nodded.

Tom didn't have time to register what was happening before ropes snaked from his wand, binding him. As he struggled, Voldemort approached and took his wand from the ground, admiring it.

From his pocket, he produced him own. The identical wands lay side by side in his hand as he idly toyed with them.

The creatures eyes trained on him were the last things Tom saw before the masked man led him away, into the dungeons.