A/N:

As anyone who read Darkness Will Creep will know, It's been a while since I've been around. I lost interest in fanfiction around the release of the 6th book as I had my own way I wanted it written, and I wasn't satisfied. Thus, with two years out of the loop I'm having difficulty recalling facts I used to know by heart. Even with that handicap however, I really want to write some more fanfiction! I would continue Darkness Will Creep....but I don't even want to read it I'm sure my writing was horrendous. So I'm sure this won't be the easiest thing since I'll probably have to research things I normally would have known...but I'll get my groove back soon enough! Obviously since I chose not to read the 6th and 7th books(I know the summaries) anything I write will be very AU. And awayyyy we goooo.

-----------------------------------Chapter one:

"Damn you boy! I told you to keep your freakyness up here and away from my friends! You think I want them to know I'm forced to harbour something like...you?" Vernon Dursley loomed above a puddle of Wizarding Saviour, seething, He gave the bundle a sound kick that resounded with a sickening crack. However, after approximately three hours of the treatment, our hero was not there, fortunately he had passed out long ago sparing him the experience. But I can say that where he was at present couldn't have been much better. As was usual he was being tormented a la Freddy Krueger, by one Tom Riddle.

Tonight they were in what could only be assumed was Riddle's den. They were seated across from each other in matching leather overstuffed armchairs. Riddle held a look of knowing and Harry couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes. Between their chairs sat the usual basin, It was a pensieve really, but large enough to feed cattle from. He knew what to expect, he would be forced to watch the memories he tried so fervently to repress. The highlight was always his parents death, always.

"Potter...why do you keep letting yourself turn up here?"

This was new. Harry wasn't aware he even had a choice in being here, had he, he certainly would have chose Option B.

"What do you mean, Riddle? You're the one that brings me here, Why do you keep making me turn up here?" Harry felt smug in turning the question around on him, it put him in charge. Riddle shook his head and his thin lips slid into a smirk so synonymous with himself. Harry raised his eyes to meet the red ones staring him down.

"Harry, what you don't understand is the actions that get you here, you still don't see what this is a consequence for. You should. You only end up here when you allow that fat man to best you. You are supposed to be the saviour of the entire magical world, and yet you fall to that oaf? Disgraceful. Therefore, this is the punishment I saw fitting." Riddle had said all this rather matter-of-factly. Harry tried his best to hold up his mask and keep his mind sheltered from any prods from The Dark Lord as he was taught to do any time he was forced to be in his presence, but he knew he was faltering. His parent's gave their lives for him, and he'd be damned if he would waste what he lost so much to attain. To hear what he was really doing by letting Vernon beat him tore through his stomach and his protective walls.

"Harry, you shouldn't feel disgraced because of your parents, you should feel it because YOU allowed it. You don't know the first thing about your parents, what you know, is what Dumbledore has told you, and you can trust me when I say, you can't trust that." Riddle smiled weakly in hopes of a reaction, any type would do. Harry snorted at Riddle's request of him to trust him, but listened anyhow. What would bring anyone to think what Dumbledore told him wasn't the truth? He certainly had no reason too, without Dumbledore after all, he wouldn't even have found out about his real life....which did then lead to beatings at home...taunting at school...and multiple attempts at his life. Harry's own conscience made him falter in his confidence. He stared into the pensieve, not currently in use but he could see the same old memories dancing just below the surface in preparation for him.

"What are you getting at, Riddle? What is the difference between the truth and what I've been told?" As much as Harry wanted to completely discard any and all things that spilled from those semi-reptilian lips, he knew that would be foolish. Riddle was anything but stupid after all.

Riddle was pleased at Harry's open mind. If you could really call it that, it was more...perforated.

"Well, Harry, what you've been told is that your parents were valiant fighters against me and my band of evil-doers-"

"Well is that not the case?" Harry interrupted, his eyes smoldering.

Riddle rolled his eyes and ignored his question.

" Well the truth is, should you choose to believe it, they were anything but. Your parents were the best Death Eaters I've ever had the pleasure to know. They were great people. And I sure as hell didn't kill them, you can give that up to Dumbledore and his Order. You got that scar exactly how you think you did, except from your dear Headmaster. When you warded off his unforgivable he saw how much power you encompassed and concocted his plan to harness that power for himself by turning you against your dear old Godfather. Every attempt I made to contact you he said was me trying to trap you, he's cost everyone so much, and I felt you deserved to finally be allowed to make your own decisions. Shortly, when I release you from here, you'll awaken where Vernon left you but you'll be in good hands now. If that's what you want that is. I'm sorry but I do need a decision so I can inform the contacts."

Harry's head was spinning uncontrollably and he felt like he was drowning. He couldn't breathe, his life was crumbling around him and he felt so out of control and overwhelmed. He didn't know if he could make a decision. Well his mind was screaming at him that Dumbledore had ruined his life and why should he stay his pawn? The rest of him clawed at his paranoia, and for good reason, what reasons had he accumulated over his years to be able to trust Tom Riddle, except for one crucial fact. Riddle never lied to him. He was blunt and nasty and evil but he never lied, unlike a certain senile Headmaster.

He felt rushed and uncertain but he had come to a decision. He raised his head to what he only had to assume was really his Godfather and gave a curt nod which he knew told his answer in a way that needed no words, maybe just because he couldn't find any to fit the situation. Riddle replied in kind and mumbled something under his breath that sent Harry's stomach into his throat and then he awoke to a gentle shake at his shoulder by someone he didn't think he wanted to see right now. Severus Snape, standing behind the kneeling Snape was a forever icy Draco Malfoy leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed, but his eyes didn't have the normal hatred burning from within, that was pleasant. Snape watched Harry's eyes wander with patience, and Harry remembered what Riddle had said, "You'll be in good hands now. If that's what you want that is."