Disclaimer: I do not own.

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A spell had hit the crystal ball, and the world had gone black. He wryly supposed it was Fate, or Destiny. They both seemed to hate him equally.

"And the new transfer student this year, going into Seventh Year, Adrian Cobre!"

He walked up to the stool with a lazy confidence, placing the hat delicately on his head.

"A time-traveller, eh? Brave, yes, but far more cunning than the first time I sorted you… SLYTHERIN!"

The hat came off; he walked over to the table. There were no cheers this time -- instead his housemates were staring, analysing, assessing. And the rest of the school? Well, they didn't care.

-x-x-x-x-

"I expect you all have something to demonstrate?" Tom Riddle hissed, glaring dangerously at the seventh-year Slytherins. They all lowered their gazes from the flashing dark-green eyes, Adrian included. He didn't really want to test Tom's patience.

"Ah, I'm sure they have something planned!" Slughorn exclaimed jovially, smiling cheerfully at them. "Come on now, let's see what you've done!"

The first to step up was a teen named Stephen Connolly (not pure, they whispered, has an idiot Muggle for an uncle) and conjured a small rat. "Imperio!"

Tom watched gleefully as the rat jumped and twirled. "Mind control, hmm? Is it perfected?" This was directed at the teen.

"Yes, it is."

The powerful teen smiled sadistically as he turned his wand on the student beside him. "Let's try it then. Imperio!"

A small frown of confusion marred Adrian's face, and the teen beside him murmured, "A spell can never be used against its creator. Forty-sixth law of magic. Usually it backfires, but with the darker curses…" He trailed off, a dark look appearing on his face.

Tom had apparently had enough of the first curse, and turned back to his group. "Any more demonstrators?"

Another stepped up, with the distinctive blonde hair of the Malfoy family (but he's not pure either, the voices said, a bastard child, that one, his mother had an affair) and conjured a cat. "Crucio!"

The cat would have screamed, had it been human. As it were, it gave an inhuman screech of pain and suffering, and lay twitching on the ground. Tom was pleased, but refrained from casting it on his peers; at least at the current time.

"Any other demonstrations?" Tom called, his gaze searching, before fixing on Adrian's face. "How about you, Cobre? You haven't done anything, yet." As Adrian paused, he turned and smirked to the rest of his 'friends'. "Maybe he can't do magic--"

Adrian stepped up, as the morbid realization hit. He had to do this, or risk changing the future. Conjuring a large dog, he summoned up all his hate, and called, "Avada Kevadra!"

He saw the flash of green light; heard the rush of death. And he smiled.

That night, Adrian Cobre disappeared in a flash of white light, just as he had appeared. And when Harry James Potter opened his eyes, he knew that Dumbledore had it all wrong. His mother's love had nothing to do with it.

It was the forty-sixth law of magic. A spell can never be used against its creator.