A/N Yes, a time travel fic. Yes, it has been done many times. Yes, you should still read my version because it's brilliant (tongue in cheek).

In which Ron and Harry travel back in time to nurture Tom Riddle into making the right decision.

Tom Riddle was a cruel boy. He'd been told so often.

You will burn in Hell. You will have the heart ripped out of your chest and your blackened soul shattered by the devil himself.

So they said. Tom believed them. Not because they were smart. Muttons were smarter than the adults of his orphanage if only because they knew to run from the wolf.

They didn't. They fed him. Gave him a roof and a bed and kept him alive.

Tom curled his slight frame under the covers, shivering when the gust of wind sliced at his skin. The broken window that would never be fixed, squeaked. His stomach growled. Perhaps "fed" was too strong a word for what they did for him. But he would live; he would survive until the devil came as promised and he was strong enough to be King.

What did he care for his heart? It only hurt as it shuddered in his chest with each rejection from potential parents who refused to give him even a cursory glance. It only ached as his things were stolen by 'brothers' who shared his roof, if not his blood, before beating him black and blue with a choke full of mud in his mouth.

The devil couldn't come soon enough.

"Sir, you musn't, please."

Tom's ears perked at Hilda's voice. She was the nicest of them all. She only sneered; she was never physical. She would be the first to go when he became King. That way she wouldn't have to suffer.

Tom knew about suffering. It was caused by that beating thing that the devil would take.

A door clattered open, and stairs creaked as thudding footsteps echoed closer. Tom slipped out of the bed to crouch at his door. His small ear pressed against the splintering wood, frozen solid, red, and robbed of sensation by the cold.

The footsteps stopped.

"Sir, you must be mistaken." Hilda's voice was right there too.

A knock rapped on his door and Tom leapt back. He wasn't expecting it to come to his door. Years of eavesdropping had taught him: he didn't get visitors. Those were for others who were loved.

Another knock.

"Tom?"

Tom reached behind him for the stained mattress, feeling the familiar fabric to calm his gasps. His fingers fumbled, dropping to the scarred frame instead. They traced the patterns, soothing.

"Tom, can I come in?"

The stranger was asking him for permission. The novelty of it was enough to shock him into answering.

"Come in," he said as he had seen the adults of the orphanage do. His voice didn't waver.

As the door opened, Tom leapt to his feet, glancing around. His few possessions were tidy, his desk neat. Only his bed was unmade and he quickly pulled at the fraying duvet.

Spinning on his heel, his gaze jumped from his room, to the ajar door to the man who took up his entire room. He was a large man with auburn hair, and startling blue eyes that darkened with anger as he took in Tom handling the duvet. Tom didn't understand emotions except anger. Anger and Hate. Those he could understand. He'd been privy to them since he first opened his eyes to the world.

"Could you give us some privacy?" The man asked Hilda. The woman glanced at Tom with such distaste, the air curdled with it.

Without waiting for an answer, the stranger shut the door.

Tom smiled in his head, the way he had taught himself to do when he found that smiling led to beatings. He wished he could close the door on Hilda. Maybe this was the devil he'd been waiting for.

But if the devil was already angry, perhaps he had failed without even realising it. A part of Tom screamed with panic. No, this was his chance to leave! He couldn't stay here and miss his chance.

"Are you angry?" Tom asked, his voice small.

The red-head looked at him in surprised, settling himself on the floor, legs crossed. "Not at you, no." he smiled then, his eyes softening into a startling bright blue. "My name is Ronald Weasley. You must be Tom Riddle."

"That's right." Tom said cautiously. The panic that had coursed through him left a slice of adrenaline, leaving on edge.

"Sit," Mr Weasley gestured and Tom settled on the floor, mirroring the man's posture.

"I've heard so much about you, little one."

Tom sat up straighter, not daring to believe. "Really? Like what?"

"Hmm, like, you're the smartest boy in this entire orphanage. Though, I disagree."

Tom sniffed at that.

Ron smiled. "Perhaps disagree is a strong word. I think you're the smartest person in this village, including the men and women and children."

"You're smart too then," Tom ventured. "For figuring that out."

Ron laughed. "I guess I am."

Tom smiled, pleased. He had never made someone laugh before. Not in the light way Ron just did. Usually it was when his head was wet from being shoved into a soiled toilet and taunting laughs echoed in the hallways for weeks. He hated laughter. But this man – whom Tom was now sure was the devil – had a wonderful laugh.

Ron sighed, looking out at the darkening sky. "It's getting late."

Tom gasped. "You just got here, you can't leave."

Ripping away hope, now that was too cruel for words.

Ron reached out to grasp his small hands in his. The large, scarred, freckled hands swallowed his in such warmth, he could feel it spreading through his entire body.

"The idea was for me to spend some time getting to know you and vice versa, but there were some complications with the – " Ron paused to find his words. "travel arrangements. I know you have no reason to trust me, what with me showing up at your home in this fashion, but I would like it very much if you came home to us."

"Yes." Tom answered immediately, still distracted by the warm hands.

Ron looked surprised. "Well, ok, then."

"When can we leave?" Tom asked. "Now?"

Ron still looked a little shocked but nodded, rising to his feet. "Let me help carry your things."

"No, that's ok." Tom grasped at his things, quickly shoving them in the pockets of his too-large jacket. They were his things. His responsibility.

"Are you sure you don't need time to say goodbye to everyone?"

"No." Tom refused to elaborate. Then stood firm, waiting.

Ron glanced down at his pockets, that could fit all his belongings without even bulging. "Is that all?"

"Yes." Tom didn't want to sound defensive. He wanted to sound mature and adult-like and devil-like so this man would accept him.

"Well, let's go then." Ron spread his arms. "We're going to apparate so I'm going to have to carry you, little one."

Tom hesitated. When he stepped close to people, they hit him and that hurt. Tom didn't like pain.

"Trust me," Ron said. "It'll be an odd sensation, but it won't hurt."

Tom came closer.

"It's magic, like we'll teach you to do."

Magic. He knew it. This was the devil.

Those were his last thoughts as he was whisked away, his stomach being tugged and his body tightening as though he was being shoved into that toboggan in the park.

And soon it was over.

"Welcome to Godric's Hollow."

They had landed inside a living room. Plush carpet caressed his bare feet as Ron dropped him to the ground. A large grandfather clock ticked away in the background. The couch looked well used and soft, facing a crackling fire. The walls were a warm cream coloured, sparsely decorated by pictures of smiling – moving? Tom had to blink as one waved – people. He could only recognise Ron among them.

That's when he noticed the boy - no older than him - standing by the foot of the stairs. A messy-haired boy with green eyes framed by round glasses and a cautious smile.

He stepped forwards with a raised hand. "Hi, I'm Harry. You must be Tommy."

A/N Preview for next chapter if you review, it's been written up, just needs some editing so should be soon enough. What do you think?

I'm happy to hear some suggestions although this chapter was short

See you soon in the next chapter!