"Is he okay?"

"He's a mudblood. Was he ever okay?"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy. He's a Slytherin."

"I'll say whatever I want, Greengrass."

Lord Voldemort groaned softly. What was wrong with them? Why weren't they screaming in terror? It was the Last Battle for god's sake! Unless he…won? No, that couldn't be. Potter had fired the last spell at hem. But then why wasn't he dead…?

"What happened?" came a strangely familiar voice.

"We're not sure, Professor. One minute Riddle was sitting on the couch reading, the next thing we hear is this great 'bang' and he's on the floor unconscious."

He didn't listen to the rest. His splitting headache wouldn't allow him to. All he knew was that the strangely familiar voice said the word "Gryffindors" and what sounded like several rooms worth of people started screaming, yelling, and protesting. He couldn't take this!

"ALL OF YOU IMBECILES SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I CRUCIO THE LOT OF YOU!" he screamed through the deafening roars, his commanding voice amplified by magic. The room was dead silent, wherever it was. Except for one poor, stupid blond, who seemed to take it quite personally. "Think you can threaten me, Riddle? I'll have you know-"

"CRUCIO!" He yelled, already hating the half-wit, whoever he was. How dare he speak that name?

Agonizing screams rose up in the…Common Room? Voldemort blinked again. It was indeed the Slytherin Common Room, but that made no sense. I angered him greatly, causing the screams to raise a pitch higher. He hated not knowing. He looked at who was stupid enough to find themselves at the point of his wand and saw…Abraxas Malfoy? That wasn't right; he had died of Dragon Pox years ago. But definitely not looking like a third year. He ended the curse before he accidentally fried Malfoy's brains. He did, of course, know how to cure it, that's how he got Longbottom on his side, but why waste it on him?

He reminded himself that there were other people in the room. Where were his Death Eaters? He looked around and saw what he would have seen in his Hogwarts days. His first year Hogwarts days to be exact. Plus the fact that he had just Crucio'd someone right in front of them…

"M, M,Mr. Riddle!" came the absolutely appalled familiar voice from before. Standing in front of him was his old Head of House, Professor Slughorn. Something clicked in his mind. A flash of a spell. The only spell with red and green that pure mixed together.

"Obliviate!" he said calmly erasing Slughorn's memory of what had happened that night. He gave his best Tom Riddle glare (since he assumed that he was in that body as he had been recognized). His Lord Voldemort glare would have just looked silly, or so he had been told by some now-dead fool. The other Slytherins took the message of staying silent, as many of them had had to obliviate him on occasion.

He got to his feet just as the after-daze wore off of Slughorn. "Tom? I seem to be a bit woozy, can you quite remember what I should have been doing, my boy?" his face taking on a jovial expression for his favorite student.

"I believe you came here to check up on poor Abraxas's health. He hasn't been feeling well as of late," he lied smoothly, giving his disgusting Head a deceptively charming smile. "You have it all under control, but such a powerful spell must have worn you out after such a hard day of teaching," he continued on, checking the calendar in the corner to make sure that it was indeed a school day.

"Of course, of course!" He said chortling. "I remember now, my dear boy! Er, Black! Why don't you take him up to his dorm and get Mr. Malfoy to bed," He said, gesturing to a crumpled up Malfoy, "Well, good night Tom," he said, waddling his way to the entrance.

The moment Slughorn was gone the whole of the House of Slytherin turned to stare at him. Shit. He could have them all obliviated, but it would be unwise as those can be undone by anyone with the right power and knowledge. "If I hear a whisper of this got out, I will see to it that the whole house will be suitably, ah, punished. And believe me, I will know." He left them with that warning and turned to go up to his dorm and think about more pressing matters than the Slytherin gossip vine. If he was correct about the spell that was used (and he always was), then where was-

"POTTER!" he choked out as a pair of arms attempted to strangle him from behind. He heard a collective gasp from the Slytherins behind him. After struggling for a bit, his 11-year old body finally won over Potter's pathetic frame.

"Fuck you," Potter panted, glaring at him.

To the rest of the Slytherins' surprise, Tom smirked lazily at him and purred as well as he could at eleven and said, "Now, now, child, that wouldn't be appropriate at this age."

"Then damn you!" he spat, glaring the glare of ultimate hatred.

He let out an amused chuckle and pulled Potter up.

"Where are we going? Do you Slytherins have a secret torture dungeon upstairs or something?" asked Potter, bewildered by the fact that he hadn't been AK'd yet.

Tom laughed mockingly, "Where do you get these ideas Potter?"

Potter shrugged, "There are a lot of rumors about the snake den."

"And you know what our Common Room looks like because…?

Potter gave him an annoying smirk, "Wouldn't you just love to know?" he said in his special-made Voldemort-taunting voice.

Tom growled and pushed him into a random wall, "Open," he hissed in Parsletongue. He walked through, dragging Potter of course, and sat down on one of the green couches in the small room.

"Where are we? Is this some secret lair you plotted in 50 years ago or something?" Potter asked, no tact as usual.

Tom calmly took out his wand, smiled sweetly at Harry and sent him flying into some ready-made shackles on the floor. They did their stuff and Tom waited for Harry to stop screaming. "Calm down Potter. You are in the 'snake den' after all," he laughed humorlessly. "That reminds me. Accio wand!"

"Fuck you," Potter growled as Tom casually caught it and absently twirled it as he had in his second year.

"Wait a few years and you might be a good enough bitch for me," Tom shot back maliciously.

"You are one sick and twisted man," Potter snarled.

"Not as twisted as some. YOU STUPID CHILD, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!?!" Tom screamed.

"I've found a way to defeat you. Just a piece of your hair cut in half that I already have…"

Tom stared. "Where on earth did you come up with that? You sound like Loony Lovegood from my generation. Though I've heard he managed to procreate."

"Don't talk about Luna's family like that!" Harry hissed, unknowingly in Parsletonge.

Tom's highly amused expression was giving Harry an apoplexy, so he decided to be kind and crush all his hopes. "Look Potter. See this hair I just pulled out of my head? And these scissors? Snip snip, and would you look at that! I'm still alive!" Tom laughed as Potter's hopes and dreams were suffocated, drowned, and steamrolled.

"But, but, Dumbledore said-"

"But Dumbledore said" he mocked in a baby voice, "Dumbledore says a lot of things you dolt. That particular spell you used, parvulus vices I believe, merely sent us both permanently back in time. Is he still your hero? The man who sentenced you to an eternity of either life or death with me?"

"Wait, what? Eternity? This is a way to kill you! I, I just need more hair!" Potter yelled, desperately defending his precious master in all but name.

Tom let out his Voldemort laugh, cold and high-pitched, "You fool. Dumbledore gave you a letter, did he not? Giving his younger self orders to kill either you or me. Oh yes, Potter. That is what it says. Did you think it was instructions to send you back?"

"It is! Read it now, it'll say just that!" He put forth nobly, nodding to an envelope on the floor that had flown out of his pocket.

Tom opened it and read aloud, "Dear my younger self, we did not succeed as well as hoped. The only way to get the Order moved on as planned is by killing either Tom Riddle, whose purpose you will recall, or Harry Potter, the boy who was chosen to play hero that stands before you now. Killing one will kill the other, as I've sent him with parvulus vices, which will sentence them to eternity of either life or death. We cannot keep their threat in the way of our rise to power so do it quickly. Sincerely, Albus."

Potter was stunned into silence. Tom almost felt bad for him. Almost being the key word. "Come Potter. If I'm to spend eternity with you, you may as well sleep in my dorm and I will take you to Dippet in the morning," he said gently.

Potter was too stunned to say anything or even give a feeble protest. Tom led him to his dormitory. He didn't feel like too much more magic tonight and locked everyone else out of the dorm and put Harry on his bed. Harry wordlessly nodded thanks to his arch enemy and fell asleep. Tom rolled his eyes at his naivety, and crawled in next to him. It was going to be a very long eternity.