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"Phoenix tears..." said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course... healing powers... I forgot... But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me..."
…The diary…
…Harry seized the Basilisk fang…
… Straight into the heart of the book…
…Screaming, writhing, flailing…
…Gone…
Harry watched as Riddle vanished into thin air, his face a ghastly mask of pain. The diary lay harmlessly on the ground, smothered by a pool of its own ink. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the erratic pounding of his heart.
Then it happened.
The diary began to pulsate with an eerie blue glow. The ground shook and shuddered, as if it was groaning with some unearthly pain. Harry did his best to steady himself.
The light grew. It filled the chamber with a strange illuminating blaze. Harry could see Ginny begin to stir. Her flaming red hair looked almost violet in the azure light.
The light consumed him. The last thing Harry saw before he blacked out was Ginny Weasley, her mouth parted in a silent scream.
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Time is a strange enigma. It never begins and never ends. Time is eternal, and yet, every moment of it is precious. Every human lives for a very short time, and then they are no more.
Time is not set in stone. The future can be changed, the present can be lived. But the past… it is unchangeable. To change the past is to change the present. Such an action would destroy the patterns of the world.
When Harry was pulled into the distant past, the pattern began to break.
Time changed.
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[The past]
The nurse bustled down the ward, a certain air of business to her gait. A few greying curls escaped from the tight bun of her secured at her head. Absently, she tucked them back into place. The patients on either side of her were fast asleep, their tiny childish faces relaxed. Only a few made any sound, but she quietened them with soothing words and small promises.
"You'll be going home soon. You're almost better now. Won't it be lovely to see your parents again? That's a good child…"
They were young, and some could be troublesome. But in general, the nurse enjoyed caring for children. They reminded her of her own grandchildren, whom she loved dearly. She would not want any other job.
When she reached the end of the ward, the nurse stopped. The bed in the corner was silent, but is occupant was wide awake. The boy watched her with large emerald eyes, his face clouded with confusion.
"Well hello!" She said brightly. "You've been sleeping a long time, haven't you dear?"
He was a strange case. Someone had brought him in a few days ago, saying they had found him in the street. He had been dressed in the oddest clothes, all soaked in blood and ink. He'd been so weak… she'd been afraid that he would die. But he was a lucky one. It looked like he would be fine.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm the nurse here. You're at a hospital now. We found you in the street, all beaten up. Your lucky to be alive, my boy!" She reached for her clipboard and flipped to an empty sheet. "Now, you'll have to give me your name. We haven't got yours yet."
His face scrunched up as he concentrated, desperately trying to think, to remember.
"I… I don't know."
Oh dear. That was worrying.
"Are you sure dear?" she asked kindly. "You must remember something. Just try."
He closed his eyes. A small frown creased his lips.
"I think I was called… umm… It was something beginning with 'h'…"
"Henry?" She put in helpfully. "Harold? Harry?"
He opened his eyes.
"It was Harry." He said. "I'm Harry."
"And your surname?"
"I don't know…" He looked distressed.
"Alright," she soothed. "I'll go find the doctor shall I?"
Amnesia. The boy – Harry – had amnesia.
Oh dear.
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*Avada Kedavra – One of the three unforgivable curses. It is unblockable, and deadly to the victim. There are no records of survivors of this curse…*
Tom looked up from his book. The room was silent, and the other orphans were fast asleep. The only light was from the moon, which came in through the window next to his bed. It wasn't much, and he still had to squint as he read, but he didn't dare to light a candle. If someone saw… well, he didn't want to be caned…
For a moment, he had been sure that someone was awake. He tensed; ready to hide the book if anyone looked his way. But no one moved, and soon Tom relaxed. He tuned back to his book.
*…The use of the killing curse warrants life in Azkaban. For further information, read 'Curses – a Study'…*
He stopped reading. This time he was sure that he'd heard something.There! Someone was awake!
Tom stuffed his book beneath the pillow and tired to lie perfectly still. A small figure slipped out of one of the beds. It was that new boy, Harry. He padded silently across the floor and crept out of the room. Tom let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't been caught.
Tom thought the new kid was… strange, to say the least.
Harry was the first child to join the orphanage in a few months, and the other, older bullies were always picking on him. He was small for his age, with large dorky glasses to go with his large dorky eyes. He was undersized, delicately built and wraith thin. There was a certain quality of bewilderment about him, as if he wasn't sure quite where he was from one moment to the next. He wandered about the orphanage in a strange half daze, never quite in touch with reality.
Tom shook his head. It was like sending a lamb to the slaughter. How could such a dreamer survive in the real world?
Personally, Tom was no dreamer. He was a realist. It was a dog eat dog world, and you had to be the best to win. And Tom was most definitely the best.
He was a good actor. Everyone believed that he was a noble, honourable sort of boy. The kind that would help anyone in danger. The sort that could take of themselves. As long as they believed that, he was adored. Even the bullies deferred to him. But Tom was no nice guy. He cared about himself, and him alone. That was just the way it was.
Even the teacher at Hogwarts believed he was good. It didn't matter that he was a Slytherin. To them, he was the ideal student. Poor but brilliant. The perfect star of the perfect sob story.
Ha.
Tom threw of the covers and stood up. He didn't really feel like sleeping, and anyway, he wanted to see where the new kid was going. His curiosity had been piqued. Tom was a very curious person by nature.
Hopefully, he wouldn't be caught. But if Harry could get away with it, so could he.
Tom moved quietly passed the other orphan's beds and out of the room. No one saw him go.
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(You can't remember the future…)