Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any familiar characters. All rights go to J.K Rowling, Warner Bros etc. I'm not doing this for profit.

Warnings: Some parts may be heavy angst, but others will be light hearted. Generally, I've decided it's a T to be on the safe side. No heavy swearing. Mentions of child abuse/ neglect, descriptions of war (haven't decided if it will be well described in gore or not, but will let you know;) ).

On with the show!

A Chance in Time

Chapter 1: Stole

Thunder and lightning decorated the black sky as rain pelted against the closed windows of Wool's Orphanage. It rattled the glass and sent shivers across the shoulders and spine of a child sleeping fitfully in a cot within the orphanage.

Tom Riddle mumbled nonsense in his sleep and pulled his thin blanket up to his neck. He knew he had a fever before he went to sleep that night; clammy skin was the first clue and fatigue soon followed. He had excused himself early from dinnertime – something that children in this orphanage never dismissed so easily, especially when portions were so small – and thrown himself onto his bed. He was asleep within minutes.

Now after almost six hours of sleep, Tom opened his eyes groggily and willed the pain in his head to disappear, instead he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps within his room.

It could be one of the children, trying to scare the Freak, Tom thought blearily.

Tom stopped moving and listened again. Yes, there was definitely some movement in his room but the sound of the rain outside was so loud –

The floor creaked with every footfall and Tom slowly opened his eyed to peak through thick eyelashes.

Yes, there was definitely someone in his room. A man by the looks of it, soaked to the bone with rain, holding a... a stick in his firm grasp.

Thunder – or was it lightning? Tom could never tell between the two – illuminated the face of the trespasser to reveal startling green eyes staring right back at him.

Tom's breath caught in his throat as he tried to keep still.

The man, no boy, cocked his head to one side and gazed at him intensely as if trying to discern something incredibly important. He took one step towards the prone form of Tom and stopped still so suddenly that Tom whimpered in fear.

"Please," Tom whispered. He wasn't stupid. He had heard the stories: of children being stolen from their beds, of people going missing, of child abductors – not that Ms Cole had told them about it. But he had heard and he knew that this stranger was going to harm him.

At the sound of Tom's plea, the stranger closed his eyes and grimaced. It seemed that he was having a monumental internal struggle with himself. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and clenched his jaw so tightly that Tom could see his muscles working.

His head bowed down so that his fringe fell forward and then slowly, the stranger knelt before Tom's cot.

As if he was about to say a prayer, thought Tom.

The stranger opened his eyes and said so quietly that Tom almost leaned forward to catch what he said: "I can't kill you. I'm not like him."

Sweat tickled Tom's face as he tried to quiet his breathing, to sound less afraid, but the fever was doing all sorts of things to his brain. He closed his eyes and willed his hallucination to disappear, because there simply couldn't be a stranger in his room in the middle of the night. A stranger mumbling to himself about not killing him. It was the fever talking, it had to be.

Wasn't it?

A cool hand rested on his forehead bringing with them a sigh that ruffled Tom's hair. How did the stranger get so close?

Never mind, as long as he promises not to kill me, Tom thought and he gave his own sigh of appreciation and welcomed the coldness of the stranger's hand as the fever continued to rage on.

"You're just a child," was the last thing he heard before he succumbed to the welcoming pull of sleep. "You're just a boy."

oOo

Harry Potter looked down at the tiny form of Tom Riddle, the boy that would one day destroy his life; destroy his world, and thought how helpless his enemy looked just then.

"You're just a child," he found himself saying as his hand reached out to rest against the boy's fevered brow. He sighed wearily.

Somehow, he had pictured a more menacing character – even after watching the memories in Dumbledore's pensieve – Tom Riddle was as innocent-looking as any other eight-year-old boy.

"You're just a boy."

Seeing him like this; like any other child, Harry found that he couldn't do what he had intended to do when he jumped the time plane as planned. He had been so...sure...when he was planning. It had been so easy to just say that he was going to destroy Lord Voldemort before he became Lord Voldemort.

Easier said than done.

He sighed again and put away his newly acquired wand back inside his jacket pocket.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't. There must be an alternative way than just killing him. He wasn't the same as him. He was good, he was a Light wizard. He couldn't kill a child.

Tired eyes stared sadly at the boy before he made up his mind and scooped him up in his arms – thin blanket and all – and carried him down to the Kitchens. There, Harry sat with the boy resting his head against Harry chest while he contemplated his new plan.

oOo

When Tom woke again, it was to the sound of a heartbeat under his ear. He lifted his head, which felt like he had cotton wool stuffed inside it, and squinted at the firm chest that he was laying against.

Dark hair that was not his own brushed against his brow and he looked up to meet the familiar eyes of the stranger he saw earlier.

Tom stiffened and gulped nervously; his hands forming into fists before he knew it, ready to strike –

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Tom," the stranger said.

Tom frowned, stubbornness suddenly kicking in. "I can do anything I want."

The stranger smiled, a quick turn of one corner of his lips. Yes, he was definitely just a boy. "My name is Sebastian."

Tom quickly brushed his hair from his eyes and tried to memorise the features of the boy holding him. He needed to remember him for later when he would have to recount the unusual tale to the Police. "I don't care what your name is. I want to know how you know mine."

"Oh," the stranger said, titling his head to look down at Tom. "That part is easy," he smiled, "We're brother's you and I; and I've come to take you to where you belong."

Tom gasped, which sounded loud in the quiet house, despite it being so quite. "Brothers," he whispered.

Sad eyes looked down at him. The boy named Sebastian nodded.

"Where? Where would you take me?" Tom whispered again, and he received an answer he had only ever heard in his dreams.

"Somewhere far away from here. Home."

A/N: This is my first fanfic ever so I would really appreciate it if you could take the time to leave me a review What needs to be changed? What sounds confusing? What part(s) did you like?

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!