A/N A BIG THANKS TO ALL MY POSITIVE REVIEWERS! YOUR KIND WORDS MADE ME RETHINK DELETING THIS STORY AND NOW HERE IS CHAPTER TWO! This chapter was written for the Quidditch Fanfiction Competition. Sorry if it feels rushed. Special Thanks Goes Out Too: teedub, belladu57, LaylaOfTheCrypt, Sonnenfrost, Kay, Guava2, and My Alternate Reality! I love you guys!

Ready. This is what Dumbledore said most people say when death comes for them. But Harry wasn't ready. He was only twelve! Besides, even if he was older, he didn't want to die, not because he was afraid of death, but because he loved life! He wanted to live! And his chances of that weren't good with both Tom Riddle and what appeared to be Lord Voldemort hovering over him. But unlike the figure on the back of an un-turbined head that tried to kill him last year, the words that echoed throughout the cold halls of the lowest dungeons shocked him to his core.

"Stop."

The basilisk, which was slithering up to eat Harry, froze.

"This boy must not die!"

As softly and gently as a lovers caress, Voldemort began waving his wand in the most intricate complex patterns that Harry had ever seen and he could feel the poison seeping out of his leg and the cold hand of his supposed most hated enemy ran down the seam of the bite. He was so tired from fighting, but he tried his best to stay awake for this. After all, it wasn't every day that your worst enemy saved your life.

"Why do you feel the need to keep him alive? That boy will be the death of me! I was told so!"

"And who would have thought the 'great' Tom Riddle would stoop so low as to formulate his plans off the words of a blood traitor."

"How dare you speak to Lord Voldemort in this way!"

A green curse was deflected easily and somewhat angrily in Harry's opinion, but the hooded man, Voldemort, kept himself in check.

"Fool! I am Lord Voldemort."

"Don't lie!"

As if deflecting the Avada Kedavra curse wasn't enough to prove himself, immediately the dungeon was bathed in the most intense darkness that Harry had ever seen, and he could see the difference between Voldemort and his younger self. Because while Tom Riddle's aura was inky black when he released it, it was nothing compared to this crushing dark force that could be felt throughout this entire secret chamber. This was truly the power of Voldemort. Even Tom Riddle could see it. It was a deep inky black that suffocated the very light out of the chamber...and yet.

The air was easy to breathe. His skin wasn't crawling. He didn't feel cold.

He couldn't understand. Wasn't black magick, dark magick, supposed to be evil? So why did it just feel...dark? Why did it just feel like somebody had turned off the lights? It was very curious. What was also very curious was that his aura was blinding white. But instead of trying to defeat the darkness, it looked like it was trying too...wrap around it? At least, that's what he felt.

"As you can see, Harry is not yet powerful enough to face up against the power within us now, but soon, he will unite with it."

"Impossible. He's of light magic."

Voldemort paused as he peered down at himself calculatingly, coldly. "It seems I have forgotten just how little I knew at this age."

"Excuse me-"

"You will understand what this means in due time and you will be very thankful to yourself, that I came to stop you from behaving foolishly."

Soft black silk softly brushed the ground as Voldemort walked towards Harry, who had given up trying to fake as if he was dead.

"Harry, I know you are awake, please sit up for me."

He nervously sat up, clutching his wand as tight as he could and ready to fight.

"I'm not going to kill you. I am simply here to retrieve my diary so I can go back to my time. It will be safe in my hands and no more danger will be caused to anyone because of it. I will take care of it personally."

"Why do you need the diary?"

"Because it has memories from school that I would like to remember. Tom isn't a mere memory of myself, but he is a pre-recorded one. He carries all the memories I hold from my past life." That was all he needed to hear and he handed the diary over. He knew he would feel horrible if someone were to take away pictures of his parents.

"But why are you telling me all this? Why are you being...nice?"

A long white pale spidery hand pressed against his his face and the hand was surprisingly, comfortably, warm. It felt like Voldemort was trying to take his temperature or something.

"You will see."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"No. But remember this, to get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with. Also, remember that my actions speak louder than my words."

The pale man straightened up and looked an unwavering Tom Riddle in the eye as he smiled coldy. "I am Lord Voldemort. I am our future. And I am telling you that our future will be bleak without this boy. The moment you kill him, any opposition to you ceases but something else ceases as well. You will know what it is when you see it. The spirit of the wizarding world dies when Harry fails to kill us in the forbidden forest at the age of seventeen. You will never make a world for the better, you will never save magical traditions, you will never stop our race from dying out. The world of wizards will be doomed to die because our entire world will revolt against us. Harry is your last chance of changing the world to what you really wish it to be, and if you can think of no other reason to keep him alive, you will do so merely for the fact that he is our horcrux."

Tom's eyes widened. "But he's a human! I would never entrust my soul to him!"

"It was an accident that had to take place."

"An accident? What accident?" And than it clicked in his head. "THERE WAS NO ACCIDENT! YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!"

Voldemort turned to him with extreme sadness. "No dear Harry, your parents very nearly killed you."

With that, the dark lord and Tom Riddle were gone, leaving distrust, and a very confused Harry behind them. He wondered about the truth. Dumbledore had always told him that his parents had loved him. But for whatever reason, Voldemort had told him a different story. Could it be true? Could his parents really have tried to kill him? His story seemed to be more honest than Dumbledore was with him. There were still a lot of things Dumbledore wouldn't tell him, after all. So who was he going to trust? When would he get his answers? And when the time came to face the truth, would he be ready to hear it?

He had to think up a story quick. Ginny was waking up and the basilisk, which had frozen with Voldemort's presence, was now beginning to stir again.

"Stop. They are gone. Please go back to sleep."

"You do not control me. Lord Voldemort is my master."

"But he isn't here."

"Hmm...I guess I shall sleep than. Good day, young speaker."

The great snake obeyed him, despite the command given by the memory Riddle, it seems Voldemort overrode even him.

"Harry? Harry are you ok? What happened?!"

He decided not to answer for now. "C'mon Ginny. Let's get out of here."

Things were quiet as they walked back. When they got to the blocked entry way, Harry wondered if they couldn't make a bigger opening.

"Ron! I have an idea, if we all cast flipendo at the same time, maybe we can knock some of the rocks out of the way!"

"Alright!"

They all pointed their wands near the top and began casting flipendo. It was a small spell but it seemed to do the trick and they all got out of there and back to the chute.

"How are we going to get up through this?"

"Um, Harry, Ron, I remember Tom Riddle used hissing a lot. Maybe since this is Salazar Slytherin's place, everything works with parseltongue?"

Ron shrugged. "It's worth a try."

Harry turned towards the chute. "Stairs."

Immediately they turned into steps and Harry walked up, thinking of the battle that never took place. He would have an available story for when he got to Dumbledore's office. He would be ready.