Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money off of this story. Unfortunately.

...

In his cupboard, wrapped in a threadbare blanket and curled in on himself to ward off the evening chill, Harry Potter tried to make patterns out of the cracks on the underside of the stairs. The exercise helped distract him from the gnawing in his stomach. He'd burnt breakfast that morning—Uncle Vernon had asked him to pour his coffee while he was supposed to be tending the eggs, and he hadn't been able to properly do both at once—so he'd been sent to the cupboard as soon as his chores were finished. The Dursleys hadn't let him out for lunch.

Or supper.

It was while he was attempting to forget the hunger brought about by this turn of events that the house shook. Dust from the stairs fell on his head, and Harry jolted into a sitting position, nearly banging his head against the low ceiling in his surprise. Before Harry could determine whether he ought to sneak out and see what'd happened, pounding echoed overhead. Uncle Vernon (the pounding was more the sort to be expected from a lumbering bulldozer than a bouncing wale, meaning that it was his uncle and not his cousin) was trampling down the stairs.

That decided him about sneaking out. If his uncle was taking a look, Harry certainly didn't want to do so; he'd only get in trouble for leaving the cupboard.

Vernon muttered something to himself as he headed for the door. From what few words Harry could catch, it sounded as though his uncle viewed the shaking of the house as some sort of prank.

Then Vernon's voice abruptly cut off, and the reverberations from his footsteps stopped.

"Ah, you must be the owner of this house," said a voice, and Harry leaned forward so as to hear it more clearly; it was the type of voice that a person couldn't help but enjoy listening to. Smooth and charming and soft as velvet. He didn't know how the man had gotten in (although he guessed that maybe the shaking in the house had something to do with a door being blown down), but Harry was already curious as to what he had to say.

"And who in the devil's name are you?" snapped Vernon.

"That's not for you to know." The man sounded almost threatening. "I'm here for one particular reason, and it has nothing to do with you, nor your whore of a wife or hog of a son. If you do not cause me trouble, I will not hurt you. If you do anything to make things difficult for myself, well… I think it's best I not go into specifics. I wouldn't want to tempt myself." The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood almost straight up. If the man wasn't there for Vernon or Petunia or Dudley…

"You want the boy. You… you're one of them."

The man chuckled. "Oh, I'm not just one of them. I'm the most dangerous of all of them. And I can read your mind—I know what the term 'them' means to you. You believe I'm a freak. If you weren't so terrified, you would be belittling and threatening me in the same manner you do the child who has been entrusted into your care. It's pathetic, really. Do you know there are wizards who view your kind as nothing more than primitive animals? Ten years ago, a war was waged by a madman who wanted nothing more than to enslave your entire race. The only thing that stopped him from succeeding was the boy you've got locked in a cupboard."

Harry's eyes were wide. He didn't understand what was going on, not entirely, but what little he could glean from the conversation was surely too fantastic to be true.

"Say I believe you," growled Vernon. "What do you have to do with any of this?"

"What do I have to do with it?" The musical lilt of his voice turned terrifying. "Dear Mister Dursley, it just so happens that I am the madman."

Harry's heart stopped.

"G-get out," snapped Vernon. "Right now-"

"Only if you give him to me."

Make him leave, thought Harry, for all his initial curiosity had faded to fear. He didn't want a madman to take him, especially not one who talked about wanting to enslave people—one who seemed to think that Harry had caused him to lose a war. He prayed that Uncle Vernon would have some decency, that he would claim Harry didn't exist or that he wasn't home. Some little part of him even hoped that his uncle might physically protect him.

Of course, such hopes were nothing more than desperate fantasies.

"Take him," spluttered Vernon. "T-take him, and leave."

"Wise choice."

Footsteps approached the cupboard, and Harry huddled in on himself, terrified of the person he knew would soon find him.

He was shocked when the door opened to reveal a handsome, dark-haired man who looked to be in his early thirties. He was well-dressed and neatly groomed, his hair brushed to the side in a slightly dated style, regal cheekbones prominent on a perfectly sculpted face.

An angel, thought Harry, until he recalled the conversation he'd overheard and reminded himself that the man was likely a violent lunatic.

"Do not fear, child," said the man. "I know you are afraid of what you heard, but I have no desire to hurt you." He knelt in front of Harry and offered him an expression that was almost reassuring. "I want to take you away from here and give you a real home."

Harry blinked. "I don't understand."

"But you will."

Terrified as he was, Harry knew he had no choice. Resignation settling heavy in his stomach, he nodded as was expected of him; going along with the desires of those more powerful than himself made things much easier in the long run. The Dursleys had taught him that much.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Good. Now, gather anything you'd like to take with you. I'd prefer not to linger longer than necessary."

Harry did as asked, picking up his tattered book bag and packing his broken toy soldiers, what little clothing he had, and a book of children's stories he'd swiped from Dudley's room when no one was looking. The stranger watched him carefully, but did not comment on Harry's lack of belongings.

When Harry was finished, the man extended a hand to help him up. Harry took a moment to gather his courage before grasping it.

"Now, I believe we've both outstayed our welcome." He glanced at Vernon, deliberated for a moment, and pulled a stick of wood out of his pocket. "Obliviate," he said, and a flash of light struck the large man and sent him to the ground.

Harry stared in shock and horror. "W-what-"

"I erased his memory," said the man calmly. "He won't sustain permanent damage. Really, I cannot understand why you would show concern even if I had killed him. He has treated you horribly."

"That doesn't mean you should hurt him," Harry protested. "It's wrong!" Quickly he remembered himself and clamped his mouth shut, but the man did not appear to be angry.

"No. Say what you think, child. It's been much too long since I've known anyone brave enough to do so. I find the change refreshing."

Harry shook his head. "Who are you?"

"I am Tom Riddle. That is all I have time to tell you at the moment. The rest can wait until later." They stepped outside, and Tom turned to Harry. "Hold on tight. This will be vaguely unpleasant."

Then he turned, and both he and Harry vanished into thin air.

…

Tom watched carefully as the Boy-Who-Lived fell to his knees after apparating the first time, his eyes wide and face pale. He gagged several times but did not throw up. Judging by the thinness of his arms and legs, Tom guessed that it was not due to a strong stomach, but because there was nothing in his system to expel. Anger tightened in his gut, but he forced it back. He was attempting to forge a different path than the one he'd taken previously. Beginning that endeavor with a death (or three) on his hands would not be a good start.

"W-what did you do?" spluttered Harry.

"I apparated," said Tom. "It's the most common method of transportation amongst witches and wizards."

"W-witches? Wizards?"

Tom wasn't sure whether Dumbledore was incredibly stupid or woefully naïve to have left the boy with Muggles who neglected to so much as tell him of the existence of magic, let alone that he himself was a wizard with an extraordinarily important destiny.

This was why I was able to defeat him so easily the last time, thought Tom, shaking his head. The child should have been trained from the moment he could walk, brought up in a world where he knew his place, knew how to fight, and knew what was expected of him. He should have been given instruction and support. He should have been cared for.

He shouldn't have grown up in circumstances so similar, and in some ways worse, than the ones Tom himself had faced. Dumbledore was lucky he hadn't had another dark wizard on his hands. It was only Harry's strength of character that had kept Tom from having to face him as competition instead of as a true enemy.

"Yes," said Tom, in his most patient voice. "Witches and wizards. I know you haven't been told any of this, but magic is real. In fact, you are magical."

He blinked. "No, but that's not possible. I can't be a- a wizard. I'm just Harry."

Just Harry indeed.

"Oh, you're more than a wizard, Harry Potter. You're an important one."

"You think I lost you a war," said Harry accusingly. "That's what you told Uncle Vernon."

Tom wasn't sure whether to be irritated or impressed by the boldness of his tone.

"I don't think it, Harry. I know that you lost me a war. However, the situation is much more complex than that. I suppose… well, I did start a war, and you defeated me. My defeat, however, was not permanent-"

"Obviously," muttered Harry.

Tom shook his head. "No, not obviously. See, when I came back from my initial defeat, it was not as a man. It was as a monster. You tried and failed to beat me once more, and in the aftermath of your loss, I took over the world."

"But you haven't..." Harry trailed off, as though afraid to contradict him.

Tom merely shook his head. "You'd be amazed at what a person can accomplish with magic. I ruled for hundreds of years, and it made me miserable. Things I had not thought to appreciate were suddenly gone, and nothing I'd thought I wanted offered me even the smallest amount of satisfaction. Eventually, I grew unable to continue such an existence. Using extraordinarily complex magic, I went back in time to ensure that the bleak reality I once created never comes to pass. Unfortunately, I could not inhabit my already present body; I came back with my entire physical being, and as such, there are now two Tom Riddles in this plane of existence."

Harry blinked. "You must be mad."

"In some senses? Of course. But in this I am telling the absolute truth."

"Even if you are, I d-don't understand why you'd come for me."

Tom shrugged. "I've come for you for a number of reasons, one of them being that we share a connection of sorts. Or rather, the creature I once was shared a connection with you."

"You once were?" asked Harry blankly.

Tom attempted to elaborate. "Since returning to this time, I've taken rather painful measures to regain certain aspects of my humanity. Those measures have changed me enough that I can no longer identify with the monster I used to be. You must remember that, if nothing else. I am not Lord Voldemort."

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Harry protested.

Tom took a deep breath, gathering his patience as best he could. "I realize that this is overwhelming. In fact, there are few grown wizards who could fully understand what I am telling them. Do not think too much into it."

"But-"

"But I am not who I once was. That's all you need to know on that particular matter." He cleared his throat. "Now, as I'd been attempting to say, I came for you for more than one reason; one of these is the connection I'd mentioned. The others are too complicated to get into at the moment, but all are harmless. I promise that it is not my intention to hurt you." Some of his motives were more manipulative than he was suggesting, but Tom would keep that to himself for the time being; Harry's cooperation was integral in defeating his other self, and while Tom knew he'd have to come clean sometime very soon (he didn't want Harry to stumble upon sensitive information by other means before certain things could be explained), he couldn't risk chasing Harry off quite yet.

Of course, it'd occurred to Tom that he really didn't need to bother explaining things, or even taking Harry in at all, when he could simply seek out and defeat Voldemort himself.

It was only the awareness of what inevitable consequences would stem from such drastic action that kept him from acting. His initial defeat at the hands of the baby Potter had taught him that attempting to subvert prophecy only invited it to happen. Things would play out in a similar vein as they had before. He couldn't change that, but he did have the power to alter the end result. With his influence, Harry Potter could grow into someone well able to defeat his other self. Tom also needed to ensure that the boy had enough strength of character to face down Voldemort with every intention of dying; it was the only way to get rid of the Horcrux inside of him without risking his life or sanity. Given, Tom would have willingly sacrificed anyone else if it meant getting rid of the abomination more easily, but Harry had to be alive to finish Voldemort off.

Tom also allowed, albeit reluctantly, that he did not want the boy to die unnecessarily. Harry had always impressed him, whether it was in standing against him and surviving all but the last of their encounters, hunting and destroying every one of his Horcruxes, or even emerging from a childhood so similar to Tom's own with a sense of morality that was as intriguing as it was disconcerting. To allow such a person to perish when there was an alternative seemed almost perverse.

Really, it was those same (slightly discomfiting) sentiments that had decided Tom on taking the boy in himself, rather than influencing him through less direct means. Oddly enough, he genuinely wanted Harry to reach his full potential. Not only because of the intrinsic benefits, but because he was fascinated by the prospect of what the boy could do given the right instruction and motivation.

An even smaller part of him had decided to attach himself to Harry for his own sake; if anyone could keep him from falling back into the behavior that'd caused so much damage in that other reality, it would be Harry Potter.

"I don't trust you," said Harry baldly.

Tom smirked. "You'd be a fool if you did." He nodded towards the manor to which he'd brought them, smirk growing as Harry's eyes widened upon noticing it for the first time. "Come, Harry. It's time you explore your new home."

…

A/N-

So, I'm writing another Philosopher's Stone AU. This one (clearly) is going to center around Harry and Tom. To be entirely honest, I was planning on writing a story about Voldemort taking over the world and hating it so much that he went back to his Hogwarts years to keep it from happening. As it is, I wasn't up to the challenge of finding a plot that didn't center around defeating Voldemort, nor of developing personalities for a host of characters who are only known because of an old tapestry and J.K. Rowling's notes.

And goodness, am I grateful that I went this direction instead. I started without high hopes, but plot bunnies abounded and this has grown into much more than a rewriting of Philosopher's Stone (or any of the books after it). The basic story line is similar, but there's at least one big extra plot point that I can't wait to introduce. I'm having an easier time with the characters as well. Honestly, I've got high hopes for this; even if you think it starts a bit slow, things pick up and get interesting quickly, so please stick with it. Constructive criticism is also appreciated.

p.s.: That other story I mentioned as the foundation for this one? I've got five-hundred words of it written (it's mainly Voldemort's thoughts as he realizes how much a mess of things he's made of things). I didn't think it was relevant enough to include, but it could easily serve as a prologue for this fic. If you want to read it, either leave word in a review or shoot me a PM and I'll send it to you.