"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry threw himself to the side; green light shot past him and headed into the thicket. His lungs heaved and he could barely stand. This was it- this was the end of everything. Voldemort was finally mortal, and Harry could defeat him- if he didn't end up dying first. He moved shakily behind a bush; his legs collapsed from underneath him. They had been dueling for what seemed like hours. No one else was in the small clearing that they had somehow managed to end up in. Harry lay on his back; sweat pouring down his face. Voldemort had hit him with more than one vicious attack; his strength was almost gone.

"Come along, Harry. Do you really think you can beat me? Mortal or not, I am still more powerful than you will ever be."

Harry couldn't stop shaking. He had done so much, been through so much. He couldn't die now, not when he was so close. He strained to stand up but couldn't; it was an effort to even breathe.

Voldemort glided over and looked down on the struggling boy. "I always thought killing you would be harder than this," he hissed, pointing his wand at Harry's forehead. Right at his scar. "But here you are, half dead already, with no one's precious love around to protect you." He chuckled quietly.

This was it. This was death.

Voldemort sneered and began to speak again, but stopped sharply. The creature seemed to convulse, and a strange light came into his eyes. "Leave me alone," he muttered in a voice different from his own. The voice was familiar and sounded…human. "Get out of my head! LET ME GO!" he screamed.

Harry scrabbled backwards on his hands. He had no idea what was going on. But the Dark Lord had a look on his face that Harry had never seen there before- fear. The pained expression grew until Voldemort began screaming incoherently to himself.

What the hell?

All of a sudden Harry was hit with a thousand memories; Voldemort when he was still Tom Riddle. Harry saw Tom being pushed around the orphanage; saw him weeping in his dorm room; being turned down by Dippet; every memory that had moved Tom to seek power and gain control over all. Harry saw him as a child screaming to himself much like he was doing now. And Harry understood everything. Knew how and why Tom Riddle had become less than a man. From deep inside his soul, Harry felt an expected emotion rise. Pity. There was something inherently wrong with this man; he wasn't just evil for the sake of it. He was insane on the deepest level. Harry wasn't angry anymore. He simply felt empathy.

Harry raised his wand and whispered, "Avada Kedavra."

Lord Voldemort fell to the ground and was silent.

The young man sighed and lay back on the ground. Seven long years, and it was finally over. He was only nineteen; but he felt at least forty. He looked askance at the half-man beside him. Harry's resolve hardened and he berated himself for feeling sorry for such a monster. Uncountable people had died because of him. Ron. Ginny. Sirius. All Harry wanted to do was go home and let Remus patch him up, then go and visit Hermione at St. Mungos.

A mist began to gather; mostly around the corpse. Harry didn't question it; this was England, after all. He felt his eyes grow heavy and breathing begin to slow. There was no reason why he couldn't rest here…He slipped quietly into sleep.

Harry awoke groggily to the sound of quiet snuffling. It almost sounded like…a child crying? He sat up slowly and gasped.

A young boy sat where the body of Voldemort had lain. He was pale, small and thin, with neat black hair. Sharp cheekbones brought emphasis to eyes the color of onyx. The child had obviously been crying; his cheeks were tearstained. But upon noticing Harry's eyes on him, he quickly swiped at his face and drew himself up. "Where am I?" He demanded, sounding awfully cold for such a young child. "Who are you? Why have you brought me to this place?"

Harry was bewildered. Who was the child? Where had the body gone? He sat up straighter and leaned toward the boy. "I'm not really sure how you got here, actually. I don't even know who you are. What's you name?"

The little boy frowned. "My name is Tom Riddle."

"What?"

Harry struggled quickly to his feet. The ground spun; he faltered. He was still too tired to defend himself in any way.

"You can't be Tom Riddle. Riddle is dead."

The child stood quickly. "It appears you are mistaken, sir. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, and I am most certainly alive."

Harry stuttered for words. He needed Remus. Remus would know what to do. "How old are you, Tom?" he whispered distraughtly.

The dark eyed boy's lip twisted. "I am ten years old. I will be eleven next month. Are these questions truly necessary? One minute I am asleep in my bed, the next I am sitting in the forest with some imbecile. It is nineteen thirty-seven, sir, and we live in a civilized society. I suggest you act like it."

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his palm to his forehead. This is impossible, he thought. What am I going to do with a ten year old Voldemort who thinks its nineteen thirty-seven? I must still be dreaming.

He opened his eyes and smiled tightly at the fuming child. "Here's the thing, Tom. It isn't nineteen thirty-seven. It's nineteen ninety-nine. You know about your 'special powers' don't you? That's called magic, and I think that's what brought you here."

Riddle's brow furrowed. "You are insane."

Harry pointed to his scar. "Am not. You see this? You gave it to me eighteen years ago. I don't really know what happened, but I killed the adult you, and now here you are as a child."

Riddle's face would have been emotionless, except for the slight twitch in his left eye. "You killed me?" he asked quietly, taking a step towards the older boy. "May I ask why?"

Harry considered telling him about his….future? but then thought better of it. He didn't have the energy to tell such a story then possibly fight off an angry prepubescent.

"Why don't we wait until later for that story, Tom. Right now I need to go home. I suppose you'll have to come with me."

Riddle raised a dark eyebrow. "I would rather go to my place of residence." He paused. "But then again, if it has indeed been sixty-two years since I have been there, such a plan might not be entirely competent."

Harry's head ached. He still couldn't comprehend what had happened, and this child with an overly mature vocabulary wasn't making things better. He held out his hand. "Come here."

Riddle drew away. "Why?"

Harry sighed frustratingly. He had been having a rather good day, what with the death of Voldemort and all. But this snotty brat had ruined that for him. "Because," he grated out, "I need to have hold of you to apparate us. Transport us," he responded to Riddle's questioning look.

"That is alright, then."

Harry grabbed hold of the boy's shoulder gingerly and brought his mind into focus. They left the clearing with a small pop.

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A/N: I need you help, folks! Let's play a little game. Whoever thinks of the best alias for Tom Riddle gets a cameo as a Hogwarts student! Remember, Tom will use his alias for quite a lot of the story, so think of really really cool ones! If you win, you can choose you age, house, and how you treat Tom! You have until 8:00 tonight (Saturday the 14th) Central time. I already have the second chapter finished, so gimmedanames!!