My new story! ^_^

My friend sydni has agreed to beta this, so there will be less mistakes than usual. ;)

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

The warmth of the fire soothed Harry. Curling up into tighter ball, Harry continued to stare into the fire. The Room of Requirement, following his orders, had made sure that no could find him. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment. It was bad enough that he had to deal with the loss of losing his godfather, the only person who had felt like an actual family member to him, forever, but to have been told right after about a prophecy that stated he will either be a murderer or the victim of Voldemort was too much to bear.

There was no doubt that the others were frantically searching for him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They couldn't possibly understand how he was feeling right now. No matter how much he could try to explain it to them, they wouldn't understand. They could do whatever they wanted, but he, he was a marked man. No matter what he did, the prophecy would be forever looming over him, because, as Dumbledore said, Voldemort would never stop hunting him down.

Strange likeness between us...

Tom Riddle's words from second year ran through his mind. It was ironic. The one person he could have probably related to the most was the person trying to kill him. They were both parselmouths; they were both half-bloods that grew up as orphans; they, as Riddle had pointed out then, had even looked quite alike. Having pasts that were too similar to each other, why have they ended up as two different people? A thought ran through Harry's mind. Their pasts? What did he even know about Tom Riddle's past?

'Almost nothing,' Harry answered himself. He knew almost nothing. A thought passed his mind. If he knew more about his past, could there be a way to find out his weakness? At least they could find out a way to kill him, since normal methods don't work–

Harry felt sickened with himself. Was he really thinking about how to kill someone, never mind that it was Tom Riddle? He shuddered. If the mere thought of killing him was making him feel disgusted, how in the world was Dumbledore expecting him to actually do the act?

Harry didn't want to think about it anymore. Uncurling himself, he stood up and stretched, sighing as his bones started popping back into place. A glance at the clock told him how long he was in there for. The others were probably thinking that he had gotten kidnapped or something, or one of them might have been smart enough to realize that he had hidden himself in the Room.

His stomach was growling, but he didn't have the energy to grab some food. He could have always called Dobby, but the thought of having company made him feel worse than having an empty stomach.

With that, Harry also decided on spending the night in the Room as well. He really couldn't handle being around others yet. With that thought, the Room morphed itself into a comfortable and cozy bedroom, startling Harry. Grinning despite himself, he kicked off his shoes and slipped into the bed. Sighing at its softness, Harry's mind started wandering again.

What would have happened if he went back in time before Tom Riddle became who he is now? Was that even possible?

'It would have been a lot of work,' Harry thought, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

As he laid there on the bed, his mind wandered yet again to a different thought. Why couldn't someone else kill Voldemort? Why did it have to be him? Harry frowned. Punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape, he tried to fall asleep, but to no avail. His mind was racing; trying to come up with different ways for him to avoid the prophecy. He couldn't do it. No matter what Voldemort did, Harry couldn't kill him.

Please, take this burden away from me...

Please, let there be someone who understands...

††††††

"What would have happened if I went back into time before Tom Riddle became who he is now? Or would it be was?" Harry frowned. Time was really confusing. "Really confusing," Harry muttered, but louder than last time. The person siting across the room looked up, his blue eyes trained on him.

"What's confusing?" he asked. "And since when did you start talking to yourself," he added, amusement flashing in his eyes. Harry stuck out a tongue.

"I'm wondering why you're still keeping a diary. I already told you, guys don't keep diaries." The other person rolled his eyes. Picking up the 'diary', he tossed it to Harry.

"Keep it if you want it so much," he said, a small smile making its way across his face. Harry flushed, his grip on the black diary tightening. A small plan formed in his head. Seeing his smirk, the other man warily made eye contact.

"What are you planning?" he asked cautiously, putting aside the book he was reading.

"Nothing," Harry said innocently. "I think I'll write my deepest thoughts in this diary, though it would be bad if I lost it right? Especially in our Common Room." Harry fingered the gold lettering on the cover. "But there's a name, so there's no problem. The snakes know who to return it to." Harry finished cheerfully. The other person jumped up and swiped the diary away from him.

"Are you or aren't 15?" he hissed at him. Harry pouted.

"We just finished our OWLs, so give me a break," he whined. The other person sighed. "Please Tommy?" Tom's eye twitched.

"Never call me Tommy, and I'll give you a break." Harry beamed and saluted him.

"Yes sir." Tom Riddle smiled slightly, unable to stay angry at him.

"Go to bed, it's late." Harry pouted again.

"Let me stay up."

"No little brother." Blushing, Harry glared at him. Tom smiled; not the warm smile usually reserved for him, but the smile that he usually gave to the few people that annoyed him past his limit. "Bed. Now."

Five minutes later, the two of them were comfortably in their own beds, trying to fall asleep. The others in his dorm weren't back yet from the second party they threw for the end of exams, so he felt safe to openly place a few wards around Harry's bed. Closing his curtains, and warding them as well, Tom settled back himself, and tried to fall asleep.

Please, take this burden away from me...

Please, let there be someone who understands...

Eyes snapping open, Tom sat up and ran to Harry's bed. Removing the wards, he ripped open the curtains. Harry laid there, clearly sleeping comfortably. Frowning, he placed the wards back up and headed back towards his own bed. He thought that it had sounded like his little brother, but if it wasn't him, then who was it?

Well, I hope you enjoyed it so far. Tom Riddle is OOC, but I need him to be like that. ;)

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For the statuses of the stories that I am working on, or to see any future stories, please refer to my live journal (link on Profile).