Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honour belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

General Warnings: Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

Summary: Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equalled survival, and weakness equalled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

Previous chapter:

Eating the Hogwarts meal one last time for this school year; Tom couldn't help but feel more than reluctant to return to the orphanage. Living in such a dirty and dingy thing couldn't compare to having such fun at Hogwarts.

Well, he could use the time to read more of Slytherin's journals. His research into that had fallen a little flat in comparison to all the things he could learn at Hogwarts. He had also collected some useful things in the Room of Requirement – trunks full of old things that students had lost, money and jewelry; brooms and books, and a multitude of potions preserved with stasis charms.

It was truly surprising how much people could lose without becoming aware of it.

Well, at least he knew that it would only take two months for him to return.

For his second year at Hogwarts.

Chapter 9 – Onwards to Year 2

Diagon Alley was still as busy as Tom remembered it to be; families hurrying from one shop to the next, the sun bright and warm on the Monday afternoon. His vacation had been largely unspectacular – spent reading and practicing his wandless magic; while imagining his next year at Hogwarts. Occasionally answering some owls he received from his friends, always so eager to hear his opinion. Every letter only served to amuse him even more. Orion had already told him at the beginning of the year that for pureblood families, Hogwarts was a test. The children would be expected to use their families teaching to find a foothold in the hierarchy, and the ensuing order would most likely last for decades after Hogwarts.

It was another fine detail that would make things easier for Tom. He had tested it during the last year, and after not a single student had snitched about what happened to their families, at least not noticeably – he had adjusted his plans accordingly.

Naturally, Tom would make it his first priority during the next school year to figure out a way to make such a thing impossible in the future.

The only difficulty was the Muggle World; Tom was born shortly before the Second World War – and England would certainly not be spared the bombardment. Such a mundane issue that had struck him cold once a bomber plane had flown past their orphanage.

The war that would claim so many lives, destroy so many worlds that even decades later when he first learned of it in school, it had left Tom reeling.

On September first, 1939 the Second World War started. A war that would only end six years later in 1945, with over several tens of million victims. Tom didn't know if it was his own imagination, but muggle London seemed tense already, as if they could feel the embers ready to ignite.

It hadn't been a problem this summer break, but Tom would have to spend some time next year thinking about that issue. It wouldn't do for him to die prematurely in some random attack – that wasn't what he had this second chance for.

Tom wore simple, but well-tailored robes – a necessary indulgence – as he went about his business, adding even more books to his already large collection from the previous year. He was quite a scholar at heart, and magic was just so fascinating. It was a shame that wizards seemed to have declared so many things impossible just because none in their memory seemed to have the ability.

His friends all had the ability to cast many of their spell repertoires wordlessly – and even if Tom thought wandless magic was still beyond their ability – he would at least try to teach them some.

Tom fingered the advanced transfiguration book pensively, wondering whether it would be worth spending money on – when he remembered a little detail that had fled his grasp before. Didn't Grindelwald rise during the Second World War?

Tom remembered the Dark Lord before Voldemort, called Gellert Grindelwald. The one defeated by Albus Dumbledore, who used to be his friend? lover?; Tom didn't quite remember. Only that his defeat was what propelled Dumbledore's name to such a legendary status.

Distracted by his spiraling thoughts, he quietly picked up his chosen books, paying absent-mindedly after grabbing a newspaper. Tom rather disliked the prophet, for someone used to a comprehensive and truthful paper – it was barely more than a gossip rack. But even gossip often contained nuggets of truth.

Tom waited until he was in his room at the orphanage until he started perusing the newspaper, pouring over the articles with a single-minded focus. It hardly satisfied him, but he was already out of the loop enough so far away from any happenings.

Regarding Grindelwald, Tom didn't quite remember when Dumbledore beat him, but it should be some years away. He would have to think of a way to take advantage of his knowledge – no matter how premature such thoughts were currently. Tom would never become like Grindelwald, or Voldemort. A Dark Lord was a target for everyone. Would be fought by the government and volunteers alike. Tom would choose a different way.

Sighing, he packed his new books into his trunk where the rest of his things were already arranged carefully – before shutting it a final time.

Tomorrow he would go back home.

To Hogwarts.

{1}

The Hogwarts Express was as striking as he remembered it to be, and Tom like last year made his way to the station with a cab quite some time before the Express even started. Choosing one of the last compartments, he made himself comfortable with one of his new books – and waited.

As the minutes passed, Tom heard more and more families arrive – the noise increasing steadily, and Tom furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

Why did they have to be so obnoxious anyway? It wasn't like their children would be gone forever.

Locking his compartment with barely a thought, Tom waited for his friends to arrive. He wasn't in a mood to socialize and wear his mask – and his friends would understand.

Unsurprisingly the first one to unlock the compartment, and enter was Orion Black. The now second year Slytherin was the one who was most observant among their group – apart from Tom naturally – and knew most of Tom's habits already.

''Tom.'' Orion greeted him warmly, levitating his trunk upwards – and apart from a light tan Tom couldn't notice any difference from the last time they had seen each other during the ride home.

Tom smiled back, expression devoid of innocence, but much more genuine for it. ''Orion, how was your break?''

''Great…'' The Black heir seemed rather embarrassed. ''But I missed you.''

Tom blinked at the unexpected confession, but surprisingly he could relate. He had noticed his lack of eagerness at his solitary existence at the orphanage – the irritation of having no one to share his joys with. ''Me too, Orion. I have missed you as well.''

Maybe Orion could sense his truthfulness, but the stoic Slytherin was outright beaming from joy. For all his smiles, and kind words – Tom wasn't very good at expressing himself.

The door clicked open another time, Darian grinning at Tom eagerly, Alyria and Eileen in a quiet conversation behind him, Avery lurking silently nearby; Theodred and Cassius's voices clearly audible – and Tom could feel his mood improve with every familiar face.

The compartment was soon enough full, their trunks out of the way – and Tom renewed the spells on the door; only this time he made them stronger.

''Welcome back.'' Tom greeted his closest friends, and pet – the joyful faces answering his unspoken words.

''We missed you, Tom.'' Darian spoke for all of them – all the children who had assembled around the one who had changed their life.

Darian didn't think he was exaggerating. It was just a feeling – a small inkling that without Tom their lives would have been far more different.

''I'm so glad we can go back to Hogwarts.'' Theodred remarked quietly, the thought echoed between all of them.

''Will miracles never cease?'' Eileen raised her eyebrow is amusement, and Cassius snickered to the side.

''Stop teasing Theo already. All of us are glad to be back.'' Orion interrupted, sighing when he saw Eileen huff in amusement. He truly didn't understand her half the time.

''That is true.'' Alyria stated shortly, before pulling out one of her books – ignoring the world around her.

Tom shared an amused glance with Orion, Darian groaning in aggravation at the stand-offish behavior of his twin.

The rest of the train ride was passed comfortably, all of them eager what the new school year would bring.

{2}

The common room was mostly quiet as more and more students went towards their rooms, or chose to seat themselves, waiting for the new Slytherin students to arrive. Tom was more than pleased by the awed looks still shown his way, the respectful distance his existence garnered. He was seated in his usual armchair, still not wholly decided on what he should do with those little lambs. His friends were seated around him, speaking quietly among themselves.

Perhaps a demonstration was in order? A few subtle threads? Or should he catch them with the carrot instead of the stick?

It didn't take long for the eight new first-years to be led to the common room by the fifth year prefects – seeming curious and excited at having been placed in this house.

Tom was aware of the irony involved. Just last year he had been in the place of the first years. Now a year later, he was watching the same procedure as the ruler of Slytherin. But that was the difference between them.

Seeing the form of the seventh-year prefect and former ruler of Slytherin, Jonathan Wilkes whispering something into the fifth-year male prefects' ear – Tom's curiosity was more than peaked. Especially as Wilkes then approached Tom's group – steps sure, but eyes lowered.

His slaves had reported to him that Wilkes had flayed into some dissatisfied seventh years last year during late March – the ones who could not get used to listening to a first-year half-blood.

It had intrigued Tom – one reason why he was inclined to think better of Wilkes.

Wilkes stopped in front of Tom, a respectful distance away, before waiting to be acknowledged. It was an interesting move to make, Tom noted.

''Wilkes. Is anything the matter?'' Tom finally asked after a moment of prolonged silence. He had to admit, he was rather curious.

Jonathan Wilkes tilted his head in acknowledgement. ''The first years have arrived. Do you want to say anything to them before we release them into their rooms?''

If Jonathan Wilkes previous move was interesting, then this question thoroughly piqued Tom's interest. The notion was worth thinking about, and Tom had thought about it for quite some while, before dismissing it.

They would learn to obey him sooner or later anyway.

But if Jonathan Wilkes, a seventh year prefect was offering… ''I'll leave it up to you, Jonathan.''

The change of address was not lost on the seventh year. Jonathan Wilkes liked to think of himself as intelligent, ambitious certainly – but he had never understood how much he was still lacking until that December evening during his sixth year.

Slytherin – as far as he remembered – always had a few students 'ruling' the House. They were always a mixture of fifth and sixth year, the seventh year students too busy studying for the NEWTs – the best and brightest of their respective years.

It was a reward for those who had the highest grades, were the most widely respected in their year. Still, they had far less power than others might think. They could only change some minor rules, make the other Slytherin's remember them as authority, as someone superior. Ironically Jonathan Wilkes believed that Slytherin hadn't had a ruler until Tom Riddle sat on that armchair as if it were a throne, magic saturating the air – looking untouchable even with his small stature.

It hadn't even occurred to Wilkes not to obey, not to assemble the whole House because of an eleven-year old's order.

He had watched with bated breath as the whole House had shut up and listened. From the second years to the seventh years – they had let him go unchallenged, let him take up the reigns – too much in awe, too afraid to go against him.

During the following months Jonathan had watched as their House slowly, subtly transformed. Not everyone was happy with the circumstances, but those were quickly silenced – and Jonathan hadn't missed the way two third-years – Lockworth and Selwyn paled every time Tom was so much as mentioned.

Tom Riddle ruled Slytherin.

Jonathan was aware that the status quo had changed when he had first heard a fourth-year correct himself when he was about to say mudblood, the smile on a second years face when Tom only so much as looked at him.

He had never even heard of half the things Tom could do with his magic, and for all the fear and nightmares it had brought him, Jonathan couldn't regret the hot-headed spur of the moment reaction when he had spoken against Tom. It had shown him the gulf between them – how different Tom was from the rest of them – and Jonathan could understand why even Orion Black had let Tom Riddle take the lead without any opposition.

He had debated with himself for the whole summer break, wondering what he should do with his fascination.

It had only been when he saw Tom Riddle for the first time in two months, sitting down on his arm-chair, still looking like he was reclining on a throne fit for a king – that Jonathan decided he wanted to know Tom better. Be closer to him.

So Jonathan Wilkes only nodded at the instructions, lowering his head slightly, a small respectful bow more than anything else – and turned back to the first-years.

Feeling like a burden had been lifted form his shoulders, and yet like it had increased a thousand times.

It looked like it would be a very interesting year.

{3}

Second year so far was not much different than the first year, Tom privately thought. They still had the same subject, same teachers – same routine. Yet, other things had changed.

Tom had wondered if summer break would tempt some students to attempt some kind of rebellion against his rule – but it seemed to be the opposite happening. Perhaps it was because of Jonathan Wilkes' seventh-year prefects' rather public submittal – or because they realized that going against him was no use, but the House seemed to be even more respectful to him than last year.

Jonathan Wilkes had been a pleasant surprise. Tom had already known that the boy seemed to acknowledge his rule, but to show his support so openly had been a risky move. One that impressed Tom.

For now, Tom had made sure that Wilkes had the authority to be a speaker for the upper years, in case they did not wish to bother Tom. He was the link between Tom and the older Slytherin's that Tom rarely interacted with.

It worked out rather well.

Tom and the rest of his group were more than relieved when the first week was over, and they could spend the Saturday holed up in their hide-out. Tom actually sighed in relief as he slumped on his armchair and Cassius closed the door behind him – all of his friends showing their own signs of exhaustion as they allowed themselves to rest.

''T…Tom…'' Tom turned his eyes downwards at the trembling form of Avery sitting at his feet, the boy having been very quiet during the last weeks.

''Yes, Alexander?'' Tom pretended to be unaware of the issue. It was clear to him that Avery suffered from withdrawal. The boy having become addicted to his magic, and after two months without it – he was bound to be desperate. It was a sign how dedicated to Tom he was to not have asked it of him before they entered this room.

''Pl…Please, Tom.'' Avery pleaded desperately. ''I've been a good boy.''

''Good boys don't disturb someone when they are tired. I'll be sure to punish you thoroughly later.'' Tom smiled warmly at the trembling boy, seeing the elation there – before ignoring his pet to focus on Orion.

''What do you think of the first-years so far?''

Orion shrugged. ''Honestly? I haven't seen anyone particularly outstanding so far. Still whatever Wilkes said to them seems to work. They seem to be completely in awe of us.''

''They won't dare to cause any problems.'' Darian added, ''…and the rest of the House seems to be settling under you nicely.''

''Indeed. Have you seen how they look at you?'' Cassius snickered. ''They can't seem to decide whether to fear, or be in awe of you.''

''They don't know Tom. Not like we do.'' Theodred interjected quietly. ''Or they would know that they should do both.''

''Do you want to expand the group, Tom?'' Orion changed the topic, elaborating when he saw Tom's raised eyebrow. ''We're all in the same year group. It would be good to have some older students in this group. That way it would be easier to make sure all year-groups follow the rules.''

''I have thought about it. I agree with you that we need some more people. It would be highly helpful.'' Tom agreed, chuckling when he saw the expressions, torn between acceptance and reluctance. ''Don't worry, this won't change anything. We will just have a few more friends.''

''Any suggestions?'' Darian asked. ''I'm not really that familiar with most of the upper-years apart from their names and the most commonly known facts.''

''Let's ask our slaves. They're in fourth year. They should know who would be more receptive.'' Tom finished the discussion, smirking maliciously – expressions just as dark appearing on his friends faces.

Alyria and Eileen seemed to be ignoring them entirely – but Tom knew that it was because they were raised differently from the male purebloods. They were loyal to him, but not prone to violence, instead they studied magic.

He didn't begrudge them their choice. They were just as drawn to him as the others were after all.

Eillen finally looked up from her book – looking at Tom pleadingly. ''Tom, can I try out some my potions on your slaves at some point?''

Huffing in amusement, Tom agreed – watching slightly stumped as Eileen nearly teleported with how quickly she had grabbed her things and Alyria, before marching out of the room. Tom figured he wouldn't see them again until the potion was finished.

Only minutes later, just as the clock was about to strike twelve; the door opened haltingly. Tom had given the password to the two fourth-years during the last year since they couldn't betray him anyway.

Daniel Selwyn and Jerald Lockworth stepped into the room, and without hesitation kneeled at Tom's feet. They knew by now not to leave that position until Tom allowed them to.

''My slaves.'' Tom greeted them warmly, and he saw them tense minutely. They knew by now that he was by far crueler when he smiled like that.

''Yes?'' Jerald Lockworth – still the bolder of the two – asked, voice slightly trembling.

''From the fourth and fifth-years, who would be most suited to be a leader?'' Tom crossed his ankles – looking down at the two in amusement.

''Malfoy.'' Daniel voiced his opinion, the blond not daring to raise his face. ''Abraxas Malfoy. He's the leader of the fourth years… and he has spoken well of you.''

''Oh? Has he?'' Tom hummed the name Malfoy more than familiar. Lucius and Draco Malfoy had been of that family. Perhaps Abraxas was their father, or rather grandfather in Draco's case.

''Yes. He spoke about how amazing it was that even a seventh year, especially Jonathan Wilkes submitted to you so quickly.'' Lockworth added nervously.

Tom smiled in amusement. ''What do you think about me?''

Lockworth paled several shades, until he looked rather sickly. ''You are my master.'' He eventually stated when the Unbreakable Vow forced him to answer.

''Indeed, I am. No matter – I will approach Malfoy later. It is good to know that he does possess some intelligence at the very least.'' Tom decided, and he saw Orion nod out of the corner of his eye. It seemed like he approved of Malfoy.

''What about Wilkes?'' Darian suggested, eyeing the two students kneeling at Tom's feet predatorily. He hadn't played with anyone for two months and he was just itching to draw his wand and make them scream.

Though – of course – he would wait until Tom gave his permission to punish his slaves.

''He's been keeping an eye out for the upper years, and he's shown that he respects you enough.'' Cassius remarked. ''Plus his family are famous barristers; they've been lawyers for centuries. They represent the majority of the important pureblood families, so they have quite a bit influence.''

''Let's first bring Jonathan on board. I want to observe Malfoy some more.''

With that, it was decided and Tom turned his attention to the slaves still kneeling at his feet. Transfiguring some debris into two hollow egg like objects, Tom handed them to the two confused fourth-years.

''If those are still undamaged in thirty minutes, you may leave this room. If they are damaged…'' Tom smirked gleefully. ''You are going to stay here for quite some time. All of us are afraid to be out of practice… So it might be a little painful. Now, you may move around this room, but not leave it. Good luck.''

Tom ignored the whimpers from the hastily scrambling boys, and turned his attention to the pet still trembling at his feet.

''My dear Alexander…'' Tom sighed, almost as if he was disappointed and he could see Avery's shame at having disappointed him.

''I'm sorry, Tom.'' Avery whispered shame-facedly. ''But… I… I just…''

''You've been a bad boy.'' Tom trained his wand at Avery – watching curiously as the twelve-year old clawed at his stomach viciously, screams erupting from his mouth.

Tom purposefully flooded Avery's body with his magic, saturated the air with it – and he could almost see Avery's conflict between pleasure and pain.

Tom didn't stop though, increasing the dose constantly – pain and pleasure warring with each other – listening to the incoherent begging released between bloody lips. Avery – Tom knew – had quite the resistance to torture already, where his slaves still passed out after some dozen minutes, Avery often managed to stay awake in one go for close to two hours.

Tom was only peripherally aware that his two slaves had lost their little game, and were screaming at the other side of the room, his friends looking like they enjoyed themselves immensely.

This day had been very relaxing, indeed.

A/N Been a while! A new chapter… hopefully it is well-received. Don't worry Tom won't remain unobstructed forever, but for now he is too young to garner serious interest… so you'll have to wait for a while while his influence grows…

I'll try to get another chapter out this month, though I won't make any promises.

C'ya soon

AriesOrion