Summary: Handsome, powerful, charming...a prodigy. That was Tom Riddle, the young man that could have had it all. But then Voldemort entered the picture and, as his mind was taken over by the madness caused by him splitting his soul over and over again, his brilliance was lost forever, ...Or was it? What if , just this once, he is the one that receives the chance to do it all over again? What will happen then?

Warnings: SLASH, Violence, angst, humor, bashing, swearing, Grey!Harry, Grey!Hermione, Good!Draco, GoodButManipulative!Dumbles, AU!, follows the canon happenings without the epilogue!

Pairings: Harry/Tom, Hermione/EvanRosier, Draco/?

"talking"

'thinking'

/mental speach/

$parseltongue$

"KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. SNIFF — SMELL HIM", Riddle ordered enraged, watching through narrowed eyes how Harry got on his feet, ready to face his pet. Foolish boy! Daring to challenge the might of Lord Voldemort! Oh, but he will suffer. Suffer and crumble in front of his might, he darkly thought as he watched his beloved basilisk's head falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face his enemy. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets -blasted phoenix!- see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow Harry- brave, foolish Harry- whole, lined with fangs long as the sword the boy was carrying , thin, glittering, venomous —

It lunged blindly — Harry dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. The boy, so very, very young-how could this runt ever defeat his great older self?- raised the sword in both his hands —

The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true — Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth —

Riddle inwardly cursed. Damned boy! How dare he try kill his basilisk? Why couldn't he just stand still and die already? But as, as he raged his pet's defeat, he noticed something that pleased him. Pleased him greatly. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into the boy's arm and it splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

That's more like it, Riddle thought as he watched in satisfaction how Harry slid down the wall. The boy gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm but Riddle knew it was too late already.

A hiss of pain escaped the boy, one that left Riddle with no doubt about how painful the venom that was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound was, about how hard it was making the runt suffer. Just like he deserved. Even as the boy dropped the fang and watched his own blood soaking his robes, Riddle could see his face scrunching up in pain, as he blinked slowly, seemingly trying to clear his vision.

A patch of scarlet swam past, and Riddle could see that blasted overgrown turkey landing beside his foolish enemy.

"Fawkes," he could hear Harry thickly say. "You were fantastic, Fawkes…" the boy praised with a smile as the the bird laid its head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him.

How touching. His heart almost wept at the sight.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," he said approaching the defeated form of the Gryffindor and looking down on it . "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying," he said mercilessly, pleased and annoyed at the same time to see that the boy wasn't all there to hear his speech.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry," he continued saying feeling suddenly more annoyed than pleased to see the light fading from his nemesis green, green eyes.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," he nevertheless went on. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… She bought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…"

Only the shaky breaths of Harry could be heard in the silence that filled the chamber once Riddle stopped speaking. Silently, the dark wizard watched his once defeater's life pass away. Now that he said his part it felt fitting to watch the boy die without tormenting him, the feeling of begrudging respect he felt for the one able to defeat a basilisk and his older self not once but twice telling him to reward the child in such a way. The death was befitting for a hero after all- in battle, after valiantly trying to save the damsel in distress. Proper for a Griffindor like the boy was, not to say that death at the hand of Lord Voldemort was a honor in itself. It was not the hero's fault that he wasn't capable to defeat the villain. Not when the villain was the greatest wizard of all time, him, Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter should be glad to meet his end in such a way.

His lips curled into a sneer as he saw that the phoenix continued crying. The pearly patch of tears shone all around the wound — except that... there was no wound.

"Get away, bird," he suddenly said, realization dawning on him. "Get away from him — I said, get away —"

Harry raised his head. Riddle pointed the wand he stole from Harry at Fawkes and whispered a spell under his breath; there was a bang. like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears…" he quietly said, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"

He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…"

He raised the wand…

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into Harry's lap — the diary.

For a split second, both he, who kept his wand raised, and Harry stared at it. Then, in growing horror Riddle watched as the boy without any hesitation, as though he had meant to do it all along, seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream that filled the room which Riddle soon recognized as his own. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing , the pain was much more than he could bear and then —

Dark eyes snapped opened in a silent chamber. Dazed, Riddle panted on the cold floor with only one thought circling inside his mind. He was alive. Somehow, surprisingly, miraculously he managed to survive. He ignored the pain his body was in – it didn't matter. As long as he was alive there was time for him to heal. But where was he?

And where was Harry?

As the pain started to subside and his head started to clear he tried to slowly raise from the stone floor to take in the place he found himself in. Not his most intelligent decision, he thought as his attempt caused a dizzy spell to hit him, making him stumble. He closed his eyes trying to regain his equilibrium and, when he finally felt that the ground stopped shaking, he opened them again.

The sight that greeted him wasn't what he expected. Towering stone pillars entwined with carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place while a statue high as the chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. As he looked up into the giant face above: ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth chamber floor Riddle could only continue to stupidly stare blankly ahead. He was still in the Chamber of Secrets.

But it felt different. Firstly, there was not sign of battle and, not to praise his enemy or anything, but in his fight with the basilisk Harry did manage to damage quite a lot of the chamber's structure, destroying a few pillars on the way if nothing else. Then, there was also the glaringly obvious absence of Harry from the room, as well as the absence of that thrice-blasted phoenix and that of his basilisk's corpse. Oh, and yeah, his red-haired victim also wasn't there. How...curious.

He blinked a few times trying to clear his vision. His mind continued to feel sluggish and Riddle felt more disoriented than ever. How distasteful, Riddle thought with a scowl at himself. Never had he felt more...slow on the uptake than now. So this is how stupid people felt all of the time, huh?

Sound of slithering and hissing made him look harder in the shadows and he narrowed his eyes at the darkness. There was something there. Something...familiar.

$Youg master...are you okay$

Riddle closed his eyes again, desperately trying to gather wits. This simply couldn't be. He had seen her slayed with a sword just moments ago. And still. He couldn't deny what he was seeing.

$ Sheshka? Is that you?$ he asked, hating the uncertainty of his voice made that much clearer by the use of Parseltongue. Stupid question. Of course it was her. It wasn't as if a huge basilisk could be found just anywhere. The fact that he could stare into her big, yellowish eyes was also proof of the fact. If it was any other basilisk than his familiar he would have been, well, dead. Certainly not a state he wanted to find himself in.

$Of course Sheshka is Sheshka ...young master, are you sure you are alright?$ the huge serpent asked and Riddle felt the urge to let out a hysterical laugh. Was he alright? Of course he wasn't! He didn't had the foggiest clue about what was going on after all.

It was time he fixed that.

$What happened, Sheshka?$, he asked, well, more like demanded an answer from his familiar, blanking out his face at the same time. Was he apprehensive? Yes. Was he confused? Oh, yes indeed. Would it let it show? Hell no.

The queen of serpents gave her master the snake version of a puzzled look but didn't bother to question his demand. Humans. She long before gave up trying to understand the way their minds worked. They were much too troublesome.

$You fainted, young master$, she bluntly informed him. $You were attempting to make a... horcrux I think you called it and then there was this bright flash of light and then you... collapsed. You have been unconscious since then.$

Riddle mind blanked at the news. He stared down and indeed saw the chalk drawn ritual circle and his muggle diary. It didn't take long for his prodigious mind to reach the logical conclusion. Nobody could blame him for being gleeful when he did reach it.

He didn't know the hows or the whys, though he will find them out later, but one thing was for certain. He was back. Back in the past that is.

And the world would never know what hit it.

Watching her master cackle gleefully, Sheshka gave him a long, long look before going back to sleep. At least he was happy now. Who knows, maybe later he will even let her out to hunt some more if his good mood remained. But now was time for rest.

If only her master would express his happiness through other, more silent, means than cackling...

...TBC...