Prologue

May 2 1998, Hogwarts Great Hall

"… the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, it did." Said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done… think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"

"What is this?"

Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was seconds away from destroying his nemesis, the one great thorn in his side for the past eleven years, Harry Potter. He was reveling in his victory, despite his forces suffering copious losses. Dumbledore was dead, and the Elder Wand was his to command. Lord Voldemort was pleased.

Until, of course, Potter spewed that dribble from his unworthy mouth. Him! Lord Voldemort! Showing remorse? His "crimes" were merely means to an end, his immortality. He knew no remorse. Those who stood against him deserved no pity, no mercy, and Lord Voldemort was quite happy to oblige them. While Voldemort was mentally scoffing at the idiocy of the Potter boy, he was, of course, blathering on.

"… be a man… try… try for some remorse…"

Voldemort scoffed again at such an outlandish proposal.

"You dare-?" drawled Voldemort

"Yes, I dare," said Potter, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle."

Riddle! That thrice accursed, muggle name. This boy was quickly growing to be a major source of irritation for the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort tensed his grip on his wand, the Deathstick. He knew that soon the true duel would begin.

"That wand still isn't working properly for you, because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore." Blathered Potter.

Lord Voldemort almost laughed out loud at the idiocy of Potter's statements. Snape, his faithful servant, killed that old muggle loving fool! How much more defeated did the wand require the owner to be?

"He killed-" began Voldemort

"Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

Voldemort was quite pleased by this small uttering.

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" he crowed triumphantly, "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you?" drawled Potter, again mentioning that name, "Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't really make it yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard… the Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…"

Lord Voldemort was beginning to worry slightly, despite his outwardly calm and collected exterior. Potters words were beginning to faze him, perhaps there was wisdom in his request for remorse.

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy! Lord Voldemort almost span around to smite the whelp on the spot, then he realized how easy it would be to overpower the fool after Potter's death.

"But what does it matter? Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you or me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: we duel on skill alone… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…"

"But you're too late. You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him." Said Potter. Lord Voldemort could almost smell the arrogance dripping from the boy. How he hated that fool, smugly twirling that purloined wand.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" said Potter, softly, "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

The sun suddenly rose at that moment, temporarily blinding the two adversaries. Voldemort took this opportunity to end this conversation, as it was taking its toll on his mind. The Dark Lord kept repeating the words 'show some remorse' over and over in his mind.

'Remorse is for the weak,' he thought, "Avada Kedavra!" he yelled

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Potter.

The two spells rocketed towards each other, and met with a glorious burst of golden flame. At that moment, Lord Voldemort realized that he was beaten. He realized that Potter was right, the Wand was not his to command. The spells both soared towards him, and for the first time for many years, Lord Voldemort was truly scared.

Time seemed to slow down as Lord Voldemort surveyed the Great Hall, for what would perhaps be the last time. He looked towards the red-headed matriarch of the Weasley clan, who had selflessly stepped in against his lieutenant, Bellatrix, to defend her brood. Perhaps that was what the old man meant, perhaps that was love.

He imperceptibly turned again, this time looking to the Weasley boy and his mudblood girlfriend. She clung to him as her eyes remained locked on Potter, unworthy thing that she was, and he held her tightly, eyes slowly following the twin spells as they sped toward the Dark Lord. He could see something like respect, like adoration, bereft of fear in both of their eyes. Yes, maybe this too was the love that the Headmaster spoke of.

In the final seconds before the curses struck, Lord Voldemort turned to the red-haired strumpet that had claimed Potter's heart. She watched him with single-minded fascination, ready to step in and save him if need be. The Dark Lord could see that she would die for Potter without a moment's pause, and he could tell that she felt something stronger than anything he had ever known. Surely this is what the Headmaster meant.

As the spells struck the Dark Lord, the Elder Wand rocketing out of his hand, his final thoughts turned to all those he had killed in his long lifetime, and wondered briefly if they had the chance to love as he saw the Weasley girl love. He felt a brief sensation of pity for them, something almost like… regret.

The spells struck, the Dark Lord fell, and he knew no more.

May 2, 1998, Ethereal Nothingness

Lord Voldemort regained sense of self in a vast, empty plane. He felt unaware of his surroundings, yet reasoned that if he could reason, then he existed. He opened his eyes.

There was a swiftly swirling mist surrounding his prone, naked, reptilian form. His body ravaged from years of tinkering with the Dark Arts, scaled, pockmarked, yet still possessing a snakelike grace. He realized as he surveyed his perfect form that he was naked. While there did not appear to be anyone to witness his splendor, he felt that as he was a Dark Lord, he deserved slightly better than his nakedness. As soon as he thought that, clean robes of darkest night appeared in front of him. He robed himself quickly.

Surveying the landscape once again, he could see the mist slowly coalescing into the vaulted arches of Hogwarts' Great Hall. If he focused his red, slanted eyes hard enough, he could almost see the head's table at the end of the hall. He swiftly walked to the golden throne of the Headmaster, and seated himself. It was quite comfortable, and apparently his contentment was evident on his person, as a voice so succinctly noted:

"Comfortable, are we, my Lord?"

Lord Voldemort rose quickly, and turned to face the voice. While the mist was still swirling, Lord Voldemort was quite able to perceive the sallow, batlike form of Severus Snape. He patted his body, searching for a wand, and was quite angry when one was not evident.

"Relinquish your anger, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am not really Severus Snape. I merely chose a form you would recognize." Said the creature inhabiting Snape's body.

"If you are not that betrayer, then who, pray tell, are you?" requested Lord Voldemort.

"Some call me Mephistolophes, others Lucifer. Sometimes I do prefer a simple Satan, but not many are willing to oblige me that," said the voice, "In any case, you may prefer to call me 'the Devil', although that phrase might be a bit too muggle for you, 'eh Voldy?"

Lord Voldemort seethed slightly at the phrase 'Voldy', then remembered who he was talking to, and his state of weaponry. Immediately, the Darkest Dark Lord to grace Great Britain for millennia dropped to his knees in front of the greasy-haired Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who appeared to be playing the greatest prank the afterlife had ever seen on his former master.

"My forgiveness, oh Lord of Darkness. I did not know with whom I was speaking," crooned the Dark Lord.

"Rise, my worthy servant, your forgiveness is all but assured. In fact, I'm so very pleased with you that you're being given the opportunity of an after-lifetime." Said Snape.

Lord Voldemort rose swiftly, then realized the implications of what 'Satan' was suggesting. While the Dark Lord was not above consorting with demons to gain power, the thought of an afterlife was quite daunting to his dreams of immortality.

"Whatever you require, oh Lord of Shadows, it shall be done." The Dark Lord was quite adept at groveling, having watched various servants do so for almost thirty years.

"My loyal servant, I require that you return to the land of the living, fulfill your prophesy and claim the rule of Great Britain that should have been yours!"

Lord Voldemort's cold, black heart leapt at the prospect of another chance. He looked 'Satan' in the eyes and, summoning all his cunning, said "I shall do as you command, my liege."

"Excellent! You'll be sent back to… let's say July 1938, a month or so before Albus Dumbledore comes to inform you about Hogwarts. You'll retain full memory of your life when you return, as well as a good deal of the dark enchantments you placed upon yourself. No need to sell your soul to lesser demons, you've got the big one with a contract right here! Consider this a "do-over", as the muggles would say!"

"I believe I like your style, Satan, if not your choice of body. This seems like it's too good to be true, surely there's a caveat somewhere?" questioned Voldemort.

"Ah, well. I had hoped we would come to this. See, if you should fail at killing the Potter boy, as the prophesy commands, you'll be sent straight to the ninth circle of hell, with a spot right next to me in the burning ice. For all eternity. Not to worry, though, you've got the head demon of hell alongside you, nothing can possibly go wrong!"

"Very well then, oh Lord of Darkness, I accept your terms. Return me to Earth, and watch from below as the Wizarding World trembles at the might that is Lord Vol-"

"Great. Down you go!"

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Blackness

Lord Voldemort was suddenly aware of a falling sensation. All around him was blackness, but in the distance below him, he could make out the circular form of the planet Earth. He fell for what could have been years, but was most likely a few seconds, landing in the 10-year old form of his Earthly body.

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

A large number of shadowy forms left the walls of Lord Voldemort's replica of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Among them were Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and countless other victims of the Dark Lord's reign of terror.

James Potter stepped forward. "Well done, Severus, I couldn't have done any better myself."

Lily joined him "Do you think he believed you, Sev?"

Severus looked at James with a distinct sense of disgust, then turned to Lily. "Yes, I do believe he did. The Dark Lord was always blinded by power, he hardly noticed the chuckling from you people."

All present had the decency to look suitably chastised.

Albus stepped forward "Congratulations, Severus. If this plan of yours works, the world should become a much, much better place for all of us."

"We can only hope, Albus, we can only hope."

Disclaimer: Most of the first section of this chapter was taken from Chapter 36 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It's not mine, and on that note, neither is the Harry Potter series, or any affiliated works. This is a work of fanfiction (duh), and I intend to blah blah blah make no money, blah blah blah blah BLAH blah blah blah.