Through time, a HP/TMR story

Timeline: Harry's sixth year.

This is the rewritten version of the story that was uploaded in 2011 under the same name, on my original account, elfinmyth, which I currently only use for K, K+ and T-rated stories. I tried my best to remove all grammar- and spelling mistakes, and also changed several points in the story, though I have left most the same.

Disclaimer for the rest of the story: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, and for later chapters, I don't own the Vampire Diaries either, nor the character Luthièn, as she was based upon a friend of mine.

Enjoy

"Professor, do you really think this is such a great idea?"

"Harry, we've been through this already many times. It is the only chance we have to defeat Voldemort for good. He has become too strong."

"But what if it doesn't work? Then we've got two Voldemorts to deal with!"

"It is a risk we have to take. But I do not believe he can live in one time as two people; his past and present form. One has to die, and since Voldemort's soul was not so damaged in his past as it is now, his past form will win the fight of survival."

Harry still had his doubts, but followed the Headmaster in silence, down to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where everything had been set up for the spell. They had prepared everything as well as they could in the past few weeks, and now finally the moment was there. He wished he had taken a cloak or something. The cold November night was sending chills through his body, and he would have to stand here for about half an hour… Nonetheless, he took his position and inhaled the forest smell deeply to calm himself down. Dumbledore took his place on the other side of the circle, closed his eyes and spread his hands, though Harry could see they were trembling. Harry mimicked the movement and together they began to chant the spell upon which the future of the world rested. He hoped they wouldn't be interrupted by one of the many forest creatures. The circle could not been broken by anyone except the person they wanted to.

Tom Riddle was sitting in Charms class, playing a bit with his wand under the table out of boredom, messing up the hair of one of the girls in his class, a stuck-up Gryffindor named Minerva. He'd always thought she would have done better at Ravenclaw though. His mind drifted off when listening to the voice of his professor. He sneered inwardly. As if he didn't know everything that anyone on this school could teach him already! He couldn't wait to go back to his room and work further on his plans for the New Wizarding World. A glorious era in which witches and wizards would no longer have to hide. The only thing that placed doubt upon him was the killing. Yes, he had killed his father, but he had had a good reason for that. The death of the girl the Basilisk had killed last year however, had not been foreseen. There was no way he could tell anyone and lift his heart, or he would be expelled… It had been useful to him however. Without her death, he would have never been able to make his first Horcrux already.

It will all be for the greater good in the end

He calmed himself with that thought, as always. And, as always, he tried to ignore the little voice in his head that told him killing could not be justified. Surely Dumbledore's doing.

But how else would he gain immortality?

Finally, the bell rang, and he quickly walked out of the room, already on his way to the Slytherin dorms to check on his diary and the Gaunt ring, his second Horcrux. Suddenly, he felt some sort of pull, as if magical strings were attached to him and guided him. They led him to the door, and outside. First, he struggled, not liking the feeling, but then he thought there might be a reason for it.

Why not? Let's see where it will lead me. It can't hurt to follow it.

It dragged him past the gatekeeper's hut, where that oaf Hagrid lived nowadays. Somehow Dumbledore had found out that he hadn't opened the chamber, but he had not been able to prevent him getting expelled. He frowned when he felt the force pull him into the Forest. And what was even stranger was the appearance of the forest. It looked like it was getting older. When walking past a young tree, it aged, to become an old one when he looked back at it. Stones weathered, and more trees aged or even completely disappeared, to make room for new, young ones. Then he saw a clearing that he hadn't known there to be. Strange. He thought he had explored and discovered every part of this forest. Including that spider valley Hagrid was oh so proud of. Not that there were many Acromantulas. Two people were standing in the clearing. It looked like they were holding a ritual of some sort. He stepped closer.

"Hey, What are you doing here?"

They seemed to not hear him, and he became irritated.

"I asked you something!"

They continued to ignore him and he narrowed his eyes. He now saw they were standing on a sign of some sorts that he didn't recognise. It was made out of glittering pieces of salt, sprinkled on the grass. He moved closer and saw the persons were an old man that he recognised somehow, and a boy around his own age. He felt a connection to the boy… He immediately pushed the thought away. He was not connected to anyone.

He felt an urge coming up to break their circle, and acted upon it by stepping in between them. The next moment, he wished he hadn't. An excruciating pain shot through him, as if his body were on fire. In his head, he heard a high, cold screech of disbelief, pain and confusion. Then, it suddenly stopped, and he felt empty inside. He noticed he had fallen to the ground. The old man and the boy were leaning over him. The man's eyes twinkled while he smiled. –God, he reminded him of Dumbledore. Who was he, his grandfather?- and the boy stared at him with a mixture of horror, disgust and hatred. Now what had he done to deserve such a look? He tried to speak, but his throat felt dry, and his head was dizzy. Then, his vision blurred and he blacked out.

"And, Harry?"

"He's dead. In this world I mean. His present form I mean. Merlin, this is confusing... I could feel his disbelief and pain, and anger when he felt himself die…"

"Very good" Dumbledore murmured.

"Professor, I have a question. Will you show Riddle everything we know about Voldemort? Everything he has done?"

"Yes. Yes, I believe that will be best. Besides, he deserves to know. All the horrible things he is capable of doing. If not, he will probably make the same mistakes in the future. I think that, if he now sees what he could become, he will see how wrong it is."

"Yeah, I know that if you showed me a picture of my future self, a mass killer who resembled a snake without any feelings more than a human being, I would want to change that fast. On the other hand, I don't really think I would believe it."

"Oh, I think he will believe it. He has already made two Horcruxes, and it changed him already. Didn't you see his eyes?"

"Red. Yes, I saw that. Not the blood-red they can become though. More… wine-red."

"Exactly. Remember Harry, he already is a killer. That can't be changed anymore. The best we can do is prevent any other death by his hand."

"But that he didn't kill every other person that Voldemort killed, doesn't bring them back though… my parents, Sirius, Cedric, and countless others."

"Yes. That is true. Just think about that he won't ever kill again."

"You hope."

"I hope." Dumbledore agreed. "Well, I wished we had had more luck and got him back from before he killed, when he was twelve or something, but alas, that can't be helped. Luckily, we haven't brought him back from when he was in his most powerful period…"

"Wait a minute, that was a risk?!"

"Well… yes. I thought you knew." The Headmaster admitted, slightly surprised.

"Of course not! I can't believe this…"

"I'm truly sorry I didn't warn you my boy. I hadn't thought about it. But we don't need to worry about it hmm? Everything went well. I've arranged a room for him already by the way."

"What will you do if he wakes up?"

"I'll place my pensieve in his room, containing my memories about Voldemort, and how Tom Riddle changed into that being. Not in chronological order of course, or else he might even understand himself and do the same again anyway."

"Do you really think he can change?" Harry asked, his voice filled with doubt.

"Maybe. All we can do is try and see. And if he doesn't, we can always send him to Azkaban on charge of murder."

"True."

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes?"

"One of the reasons he became like this was because he never had someone to talk to. Please keep him company at times. I can't lock him up there without anyone to hold onto. He would go mad. Again."

"But he's a monster! He killed my family and ruined my life! How can you expect me to… to…" he trailed off.

"Harry, please understand. It is not too late to save him yet."

Dumbledore suddenly looked very old and tired, and Harry didn't have the heart anymore to protest.

"Do you… do you pity him professor?"

"Yes Harry. Yes I do. I am partly to blame for what he became, just like everyone else who taught him at Hogwarts. We shouldn't have left him to grow up in that orphanage, nor sent him back there every summer. It's where all the misery began."

Harry looked down when he saw something glistening in the corners of Dumbledore's eyes.

"Alright, it is late my boy. You'd better hurry to bed. I will make sure Tom will be locked up securely in a room. You have permission to skip classes tomorrow so you can help me if he wakes up. And you can of course tell Mr Weasley and Ms Granger everything about it now. They might be able to help you carry this heavy burden. However, I don't want the whole school to know that Voldemort is here in the castle. I'm sure you understand. In time, you can tell your other friends, but for now, just those two."

"Yes. Thank you professor. Goodnight."

He woke up with a pain in his head. He vaguely remembered something. Very vaguely. He had been pulled to trees, the Forest?, and seen two humans there. And then pain, the pain, the emptiness. And then nothing but glaring, glowing emerald eyes. Beautiful eyes…

"Finally awake?"

His head shot up and he gripped his wand tightly. Or rather say he gripped his clothes where his wand should have been. The black-haired boy with the glowing green eyes was sitting on the other side of the room, glaring daggers at him. He noticed it was the place furthest away from himself. He suddenly remembered everything from last day. Strange. It had been afternoon when he had walked into the forest, but when he had woken on the ground, he was sure he had seen stars, as if it was night. It had been fairly dark, now he thought of it. The room wasn't really large, but there were two doors in it. One, he supposed, led to a bathroom of sorts, and one out.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"You're still at Hogwarts. And my name is Harry. Harry Potter."

The boy spoke like he was talking to a piece of filth. It angered him immensely. No-one dared to speak like that to the Tom Riddle. "Listen, I don't know what your problem is, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk to me like that."

"Wish all you want."

Tom rose from the bed, and suddenly Harry started screaming at him. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

He backed away, shocked at the reaction, and saw now that the boy was clutching tightly onto two wands, one he presumed was Harry's, but the other was his. "My wand! Give it back!" he exclaimed in an authorial voice that usually made everyone do whatever he wanted.

The boy just smiled bitterly. "You think you can intimidate me? Think again Riddle. I've been through worse. Much worse, thanks to you"

"What?" Now he really was confused. "I don't even know you!"

"Oh, but I do know you. If you want answers, look at the table there."

The boy pointed at the left corner, where a small table was standing, a pensieve placed upon it. He eyed Potter warily while approaching it. He let his fingers circle through the silvery substance, and watched the pictures swirling around in the silvery depths. Most of them seemed to contain an absolutely horrible face, with a waxy skin and blood-red, haunting crazed eyes. Some seemed to be about himself, and in more than a few, the black-haired boy appeared. He looked back, uncertain, but the boy was just staring at him with cold eyes. He looked at the pensieve again and made his decision. Lowering his head in the bowl, he fell into one of the memories.

He was in a graveyard, and saw a little fat man coming nearer, holding a small bundle in his arms, walking towards a cauldron. Two boys were already standing there. He recognised Harry. A cold voice that came from the bundle ordered to kill 'the other', whoever that might be. A killing curse and green flash, and Harry was now staring at the body of the other boy. Then, he was tied up to a gravestone. Tom watched in horror as the little man dropped something disgusting in the cauldron. It looked like a baby, and yet it couldn't be, it's skin far too grey and raw. He couldn't do anything but watch as the man completed the ritual, pulling a bone from the earth, and after that, cutting his own hand off. The man took a knife and cut Harry's arm open, and yet there was nothing he could do.

Then, something rose from the cauldron. It resembled a man, but again, it couldn't be. The eyes opened and he inhaled through a few slits where there should have been a nose. "Lord Voldemort has returned!" a high, cold voice said, filled with joy. Tom froze, and wanted to deny it. This can't be… no! But when he turned around, he saw the name on the gravestone Harry was pushed against. The name of his father, and suddenly he remembered the graveyard as well.

He was pulled into other memories, about blood, slaughter, torture, and always that laughing. His laughing.

This isn't what I wanted. He thought. This has nothing to do with my plans…

He watched as he killed man, woman, children, and enjoyed it immensely. Tears were pricking behind his eyelids, but he refused to let them fall. Were these views from the future? His future? And then, he saw himself again, breaking into a house. A man shouted to upstairs, and was killed. Voldemort walked up the stairs and saw a woman standing in front of a crib. "Not Harry, please not Harry!" "Stand aside girl!" "Not Harry, please!" "This is your last warning woman, you don't have to die, get out of my way!" But when she continued pleading, she too was killed. Voldemort turned to the baby in the crib and carefully putted his wand between the baby's eyes. No, no no no no!"Avada Kedavra!" And then, Voldemort was no more.

The next memories came as a relief. He saw himself, still normal, asking professor Armando Dippet to teach Defense against the Dark arts. To his surprise, he was refused. It was only a short memory, and made place for another one directly after. He was in the same office, but now there was the old man that had brought him here. He suddenly realised that it was Dumbledore. It had to be a few years later, for he saw that already, his face was wrong somehow. He heard the conversation, and now understood why he had been refused. In the earlier memory, but also in this one. Dumbledore had known him, through and through, better than he knew himself. For he had not foreseen what he could have done. He suddenly wondered, since when Dumbledore had known all this. From his childhood? He couldn't watch anything more, and tried to escape the pensieve, but something held him down and he heard a voice:

"Watch it all Riddle. Watch everything you've done."

And so he did. He saw more and more slaughter, now not only by himself, but also in his name. He couldn't take more, but was still forced to watch. The memory that came as the biggest shock, was, surprisingly, one where he still was himself. And yet not. A memory himself, he realised. And then he saw his diary and groaned. Why had he made the cursed thing? He saw a girl, redheaded. A Weasley maybe. She was dragged into the chamber. He saw his diary possessing her and made her write bloody messages. He saw her giving him her soul, and he saw him taking it mercilessly.

He watched the fight in the chamber, and didn't feel anything but relief as he saw the diary destroyed. He never knew this was something he was capable off. Not in his present form. But apparently, he could. The thought made him feel small, very small. He thought he had control over everything, yet he couldn't even control his own actions? Only when the Basilisk fell, he felt a sting of loss. She had been the only one he had been able to talk to as a friend. A substitute mother.

The memories changed again. This time they were all about his Horcruxes. What items he had used to make them, how he had gotten a hold of them, and some memories even showed who he had killed to make them. Then, he saw Dumbledore destroying his ring. The Gaunt ring, and again, relief came to him. But not only that, a realisation as well. Both the Horcruxes he had already made, had been destroyed already. Did that mean he was mortal now? He didn't even know if these memories were from the present, the future or the past anymore. For the memories containing the black haired boy, who was now sitting in the room, surely had happened already. But he had never become that monster. Not yet at least. Where was he?

The last memory out of many, was a prophecy. He heard it two times. Once, when Dumbledore was speaking to a witch, whom he called Sybil Trelawney, and the second time in the headmaster's office, where Harry heard it as well. Now he understood why he had tried to kill a baby, but he didn't think that he would do it again. Not now. Not now he'd seen everything.

And then he was back in the room, forcefully thrown out of the pensieve. He turned his head towards Harry, but the boy was gone. "Tempus" Thank Merlin he had learnt some wandless spells… it was night now. Had he been in the Pensieve for so long? Hours and hours. He thought back to the memories, and wondered why he had gone to such a length to gain immortality, even going so far to drink blood of a unicorn. Who would want that cursed half-life? And then the philosopher stone... Harry had stopped him though. Now he felt grateful for that, and he also understood why the boy always stared at him with hatred and disgust. He had ruined his life and taken away his parents. His chance at a happy, normal life was gone, all because of Tom. For the first time since he was a little boy, he let his tears flow and curled up in bed.

Harry entered the room and watched Riddle, who was asleep now. Or was he only trying to make him think so? He let the door open; it didn't make any difference anyways. It was spelled so that only he or Dumbledore could pass the threshold. He carefully and silently walked up to Riddle, and sighed in relief when he noticed the boy was really asleep. Then, he saw the stains of tears on the cheeks of Riddle, and he froze in shock. He hadn't thought of Voldemort as a human. Not even from when he was known as Tom Riddle. Before he had made Horcruxes maybe, but certainly not after creating two of them… was it because those two had been destroyed already? He watched in fascination and hadn't noticed how close he had been until he nearly fell over the bed. He quickly scrambled away as Riddle's eyes fluttered open.

"Who…?" he said sleepily.

Harry didn't answer, and just stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, not knowing exactly what he had to do.

"Harry?"

"Don't you dare to speak my name!" Harry spat.

"I… I'm sorry."

"Are you?" he asked with an icy voice.

He didn't know if Riddle had caught what he meant, but when their eyes met, he knew he had.

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Doesn't bring them back."

"They're… they're really…"

"Yes. Welcome to the future," The Gryffindor said mockingly.

"The future. That ritual…"

"Was to bring you here, so that that died."

"It's gone? Voldemort is gone?"

"Why, you almost sound like you're glad to hear it. Dumbledore might think you can change, but you can't fool me. I know what you did. Even at school. Was it an accident, that you murdered your father? Accident, that Myrtle died?"

"The last was," Riddle said defensively, but Harry just snorted.

"Even it was an accident, you used it well. But now all the Horcruxes you'd already made are gone. The diary as well as the ring."

"Yes. I know," he said flatly

"One would think you'd be devastated. You're mortal now," Harry said, for the first time showing something of incertitude.

"If someone had told me that news yesterday morning, I would have been outraged, indeed. But now… now I saw what they brought me. Brought the world. What I did or could do… I'm glad they are gone."

"Doesn't change what you did."

Harry turned around and walked out of the room, leaving the door open on purpose. Riddle couldn't get out anyway.

Tom sat on the bed, staring at the open door. He could feel the magical barrier in front of it, and knew he could never get through it without a wand. Possibly not even with his wand. He recognised Dumbledore's magic on it. Closing his eyes, he sighed. He only opened them again when he felt another presence in the room. A nervous house-elf was standing next to the table with a tray of food.

"Hello there."

The elf remained silent and stared at him with accusing eyes. He wondered if he knew… but that was impossible. Why would Dumbledore inform a house-elf of something like that? Doubt filled his head though when the house elf opened his mouth, carefully choosing his words and speaking slowly, as if to a dangerous animal.

"You are the one who hurt Harry Potter Sir?"

He frowned. He didn't know how to answer. It had been his future self who had hurt Potter, but he would have if he hadn't been transported here. "I… I think so."

The elf rammed the plate down, looked at him hatefully and spat in his food. Then, he disappeared with a loud bang. He watched the food and didn't think he could eat anything that contained house- elf spit. A long sigh came from the door opening and Tom spun around, facing a very old- looking Dumbledore.

"I am sorry for Dobby's behaviour Tom. He is pretty attached to Harry."

"Professor Dumbledore? It is you, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is me. Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not," Tom mumbled. He was actually kind of glad that he saw someone he knew.

"Not?"

"No. I… I wanted to thank you actually. For giving me a further choice, if that was your intention."

"Tell me Tom. Why is it that you suddenly changed your mind?"

"Well, that's obvious isn't it? That," he said, pointing at the Pensieve, "was never included in my plans. Not mass killing and mindless slaughter."

"Not mass killing. And what about normal killing?" he said, placing an warning on the 'normal'

"If I… if there is… a good reason for it." Tom decided, but he could see on Dumbledore's face that that was not what he had wanted to hear.

"Tom. There are never reasons good enough to kill someone. There is always a better solution. Look at yourself. What you've done. Or, to you, what you would have done. Yet, I didn't lower myself to killing you. Your older self, yes. But not you."

"But why? Why couldn't you just kill me?"

"Would you have wanted that?"

"No. of course not. But wouldn't it have been easier for you?"

"Ah, that's the question isn't it? The killing on itself, maybe. But after that? The guilt that I'd ruined another life, no matter how distorted it had become… no. I wouldn't be able to live with that."

"Is that why you didn't kill Grindelwald?"

"One of the reasons," Dumbledore replied, more to himself as to Tom.

"One of them?"

The professor's attention suddenly snapped back. "Yes, and that is all you need to know. Now, should I let some other food be brought to you?

"If you want to, please." A few minutes later, they were both sitting on Tom's bed, Tom eating from his new plate. He hadn't thought he had been this hungry… "Professor… that prophecy…"

"Was fulfilled the moment you came here."

"What?"

"Come on Tom. Do you want to become like Voldemort? Do you still want to become a Dark Lord?"

"No. No I don't. But what has that to do with… oh."

"Yes, oh. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord Tom. Not you. Voldemort is dead now if you want him to be. As long as you do not become him again, the prophecy has ended."

"So that was why Harry was one of the two doing that ritual."

"Yes. Without him and the connection you two share, we could not have brought you from the past."

"But that connection was made with the older me. Not with me me."

"That connection runs deeply. Now you are here, you are still bound together. Magic follows strange ways, especially when time is concerned. Hence the reason why no-one has been able to find out how time turners work yet, and probably never will."

"Professor, can you tell me about this world? I mean, developments and stuff? It is now fifty years later after all."

"Well. In the magical world not much changed. More the Muggle world, but I don't think you would want to hear about that hmm? Let's see, inventions in the Wizarding world… Ah, of course. Two Weasley twins created a joke shop, with all kind of new invention, and they all work on top of that, plus the cure, since they tested everything on themselves."

"What kind of inventions?"

"Great boxes of magical fireworks and skiving snack boxes, which contain candy that makes you ill so you can skip class… and some more dangerous material that is officially strictly forbidden inside of the walls of Hogwarts… Though I tend to close an eye sometimes," he grinned. "I think that if you want to see more about the present world, you should read some papers. I'll bring you some if you want."

"That would be great professor. Thank you."

"Alright. I have another question for you Tom. About killing people. Surely we don't agree on this but… try to feel a little remorse, would you? Don't let them be dead for nothing."

"They're dead already. There's nothing after death. Why should I feel remorse? It's not like it will bring them back."

"That's where we don't agree. If there is nothing after dead, then why do you think ghost exist? They could choose between staying here and moving on. If there was nothing after life, why would people even want to move on? Think about it."

"I'll try." He said shortly, not wanting to admit that even the thought of dying and dead people frightened him.

"Then I'll leave you alone now. Try to sleep some more. I'm sure time-travelling must be tiresome."