Hatred boiled in his veins, pure unadulterated rage washed like the waves of an incoming tide at his soul. A dark seething mass of frothing anger filled him to bursting as he stomped through the dark woods of the forest of Dean and thought back to the night before.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Taking a deep breath, Tom tried to settle his anger at the indignity of it all. Him, in Hufflepuff, HIM! And the worst part was that he couldn't even argue the decision as he was putting considerable effort into killing a dark lord out of a feeling of familial loyalty.

Reaching the top of the rise, Tom took a moment to glance up at the sliver of moon that looked down on him before he quickly bypassed the shoddy alarm ward placed there and glanced down at the crude facility that he remembered as a training ground created and run by one of the Knights of Walpurgis. Avery had been extremely useful in his last lifetime for his skill in training Death Eaters into a fighting force, a talent he had missed on his second rise to power.

The one time dark lord made a mental note that if he should ever get around to contaminating any founder's relics this time around he would use the hat as a chamber pot liner.

With a wave of his wand Tom conjured a half dozen cylinders roughly the same size as a muggle chemical drum. A quick bit of spell work and the solid steel rolls were charmed to be unbreakable and had a charm originally designed for Quidditch carved into them to reduce friction next to his personal summoning rune.

Checking his work with a critical eye Tom nodded before dropping the six small bronze Knutz on the six one and a half ton chunks of metal disappeared. They wouldn't last long but they, honestly enough, didn't need to.

Checking that everything was secure, Tom disillusioned and silenced himself and strode into the Death Eater camp. He had once done this almost daily, his old self had enjoyed moving unseen through his forces and listening to the gossip, it had helped to cultivate the aura of omniscience that he enjoyed with his followers. Now he used it for a far darker purpose..

Shifting around the guards, wards, alarms and traps set up around the camp, Tom ghosted through his onetime followers until he reached the center of the camp.

Pointing his wand skyward, Tom let his mind and magic reach out until far, far away he felt the tingle of his own personal summing charms. "Accio Death." He whispered before apparating out of the camp, the wards he had originally set up in camps such as this one had been designed to keep people from showing up unexpectedly, he had been less interested in his followers leaving.

Behind him the camp continued on, the summoning charm and minor apparition being so common that it didn't even raise an eyebrow amongst the revelry and noise.

Reaching the edge of the wardline, Tom apparated away. He then apparated several more times before taking a deep breath and turning to watch the camp from several miles away.

Seven minutes after the summoning charm was cast Tom stood atop a rise and watched as the camp disappeared in a flash of light and fire, the rumble of the explosion crept up his legs for a moment before the shockwave hit him, the wave of pressure and sound whipping past as this part of the world experienced its first kinetic bombardment.

He had discovered the theory of orbital portkeys buried deep in the department of mysteries after taking the ministry the last time. A prototype portkey had successfully dropped an unspeakable off in orbit for several seconds before the man had been returned.

That success had been ignored by his old self. However, his recent time spent in the tender mercies of Lily Potter had introduced the one time dark lord to the writings of a man by the name of Heinlein, his reading of the fictional lunar revolution had sparked an idea in his mind and now he was seeing the results of that particular event.

Six one and a half ton cylinders, charmed to be impervious and frictionless, summoned from orbit and accelerated to seven thousand five hundred miles an hour had each struck with the force of ten tons of muggle dynamite each.

The result was a blasted hellscape that had once been a training ground for the Knights of Walpurgis. With a smirk, Tom activated his own portkey and was whisked away. Behind him the last bit of magic leached out of the conjured metal causing the weapons to fade away and leave no evidence of what had caused the destruction.

In the end, it was as if some vengeful god had reached down and smote the Death Eaters in a biblical rage.

The walk up the path to Hogwarts had Tom rub his eyes tiredly. He had spent far too long at the Hog's Head in his Grey Man disguise, carefully avoiding drinking any of the swill Aberforth had served him as he spoke in carefully chosen volumes with an officer from the department of muggle worthy excuses about the 'underground gas field' that had exploded down south earlier that night and how they didn't have any idea on what could have possibly caused it.

Shaking his head at the idiot death eater wannabe's that had scurried from the room to report to their lord on what they had learned, Tom stopped at the gate and took a deep breath.

"Tom."

Glancing at the old wizard that stood in the cool night air Tom sighed "The training camp is gone, no survivors," he declared simply.

For a moment, Tom felt Dumbledore's gaze linger on him before the headmaster turned back towards the school and walked with him. "Do you regret what you have done?"

Thinking about the question, Tom shook his head in the darkness "No," he could feel the older wizards need for more than that before he pressed on, "I regret that it was necessary, the loss of so much magical blood is a shame. That being said it was necessary, we both know that, so I have no regrets in doing it."

He could see Dumbledore nod sadly beside him as the old man thought back on his own actions during the war with his onetime friend so many years before.

Entering the castle, Dumbledore seemed to gain some measure of strength as he turned to the time displaced Ex-Dark Lord, "Well, I shall leave you to get some sleep. You have a full class tomorrow and I suggest you be well rested for it."

Resisting the urge to scowl at the thought of classes after getting such little sleep, Tom gave a half bow before he left for his room and cursed the hat, Dumbledore, time travel and his old self all in one breath as he thought back to the end of the Hogwarts sorting.

Lifting the hat from on top of his head, Tom frowned slightly at the nearly empty great hall. Only himself, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick occupied the massive room.

"You made a mistake coming here Tom, this school is under my protection," the aged Wizard declared and Tom gulped as he could feel his one time nemesis pull magic in from the very stones of the castle.

Blinking at the statement, Tom sighed and carefully let the hat slide back down over his face and sat there as he felt the magic swirl around him for several seconds before it slowly settled down as the trio of magicals calmed down slightly from their combat state.

"Are you going to come out from under the hat?"

Pushing the artifact up so he could look at them, Tom carefully gauged their readiness to commit bodily harm on him before he pushed the hat further up his head. "Are you going to give me a chance to talk? Or will you jump straight to the hurting and screaming portion of the evening?"

Glancing between each other, the trio seemed to have a silent conversation before the two males lowered their wands leaving McGonagall as the sole combatant at the ready if he should attack.

Taking that as the best he was likely to get, Tom pushed the hat off is head and set it to the side before he leaned forward on the stool and sighed. "What can I help you with Headmaster?"

"Perhaps you can start with telling us where Tom Potter is? Be aware that while I would like to see the boy returned safely I am unwilling to barter your safety for his," Dumbledore said with a growl as Tom sighed again and shot a dark look at the hat that had gotten him into this position.

"I am Tom Potter, adopted to Lily and James Potter and brother to Harry Potter," he explained before shrugging at their incredulous looks. "I would swear a wizard's oath to that effect, but I get the feeling you are a tad wand shy at the moment." he said with a smile before shaking his head. "I was also once Tom Riddle, the self-appointed Lord Voldemort." he declared and rolled his eyes as Flitwick raised his wand again in response to the name even as the headmaster nodded in easy acceptance of this fact.

"And yet you are here and he is not, so what happened?"

"In simplest terms, I lost." he growled before slumping in the stool and shaking his head. "Lost to a child of all things, But in losing I was finally made whole, for the first time since my fifth year in these halls I was complete."

Glancing at the three Tom shrugged, "I admit that I made several attempts to defeat death, one of the first ones left me… twisted, like a dark reflection stripped away of anything that might have been good," he said with a snarl of rage at the way his mind and soul had been shattered by the Horcrux. "For some reason the warnings on that particular bit of foul magic had the warnings written down after the spell itself."

Tom hated the idiocy of that particular author, the accidental death of Myrtle Warren during his fifth year attempt to control the beast was the last moment he had as myself, after that moment everything was like a waking nightmare, "I knew what I was doing and even the thoughts behind it, but it was as if someone else was in control."

"The first law of magic warns of such." Dumbledore said with authority as he quoted said law, "Tamper with the deepest mysteries, the source of life, the essence of self, only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind." to cheat death itself is said to cost you your life in turn.

"I can wholeheartedly agree with that particular law." he snapped before running his hands through his hair and sighing again. "After performing that particularly vile deed I descended into deeper and darker magics, the twisted mind within me even managing to dig up one of Harpo the fouls lost rituals, a particularly vile piece of magic known as 'viasmós tou Horae' the 'rape of the time' which would send one back through time to their most pivotal moment, now for me I was quite sure I would end up standing in the orphanage as you handed me my letter."

"I see that didn't happen?"

Glaring at the old man Tom snorted and shook his head "No, unfortunately the scattered remnants of the spell had little to say about what happened when your attempt at time travel ran afoul of a true prophecy."

Swapping out with his Simulacra down in the Hufflepuff dorms Tom flopped into his bed with a grunt as sleep worked to claim him. He lifted his arm and glared at the bands of burning fire that locked them in place, his magical oath to Dumbledore being the only thing that had earned him some small amount of trust even after his rather fantastical story.

Still, at least Dumbledore was covering for him while he was out dealing with the Death Eaters, but the old man could have at least given him a day off after taking out one of the training camps.

(A/n) Horae was the goddess 'gang' attributed to the natural progression of time, it tended to be a fluid group that changed members throughout the ages but were set in groups of three, three, three and four which according to Arithmancy would end up with three groups of three being closed by four for thirteen across four seasons for seventeen total.

You can think and wonder on why those numbers are important and how they are similar and how they worked into the ritual as well as how a man by the name of 'Harpo the Foul' would find a way to corrupt something as natural as time with such numbers.

Needless to say this particular ritual will not be spoken of here and any attempt to replicate it will see your soul burned out by the Mageía of Greece with the fires of Olympus before even the memory of you is obliviated from the minds of the world.

This unfortunately has little use as a deterrent as nobody remembers the last guy to try and use the ritual, but the Mageía are set in their ways.

(A/n 2) Yes I had the warnings behind the spell, I found that to be perfect for something as horrible as the Horcrux.