#Harry Potter time travel au

[victorian0error]

Time travel au where Harry is the only one who can call Tom ‘Tommy’ and not get hexed

[irafook]

Ok, but listen. Harry goes back in time and decides to get rid of Tom Riddle AU, but the sorting hat goes like ??? when it reads Harry's mind. Idk it just irks me how the sorting hat is so understanding in most time travel fics, at best it puts Harry in a house he didn't want to be. But just imagine if it actually tells on Harry, full great hall drama with the hat going like "HE'S HERE TO MURDER SOMEONE"

And ofc Tom is instantly obsessed with the murder boy.

Extra:

(ofc the poor hat is not broken, it's on the verge of a nervous breakdown)

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4677

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

You were walking through the Hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. The sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red; it was a cold day without the sun. As you approached the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted Lucas—tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin—leaning casually against the wall.

“There you are!” he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. “I’ve been looking for you. Fancy coming with me to Hogsmeade? I’ve got some things to pick up, and I thought you could use a break from all the studying.”

You raised an eyebrow, interested. “And by ‘things,’ you mean what exactly?”

“Important stuff!” Lucas replied with mock seriousness. “Like sweets from Honeydukes and a new quill, since I keep losing mine. And, of course, we have to stop at Zonko’s - can’t leave without some supplies for our next prank on Maeve.”

You let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few years slip away. You figured you could use a shopping day - it was a Saturday after all; you could just study after. “Sounds like a plan, though I’m not sure if Maeve would be happy with another one of your ‘masterpieces’.”

“She’ll survive. Besides, I’ve got a new idea that’ll totally blow her mind; just wait and see,” Lucas nudged you playfully.

As you made your way down the long, winding path to Hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. It seemed to be lingering just out of reach; you’d seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. It had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now it was walking behind you and Lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

“Look at that,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. “It’s been following me this entire day.”

Lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. “Huh, that’s a little weird, don’t you think? Cats don’t usually follow people around for no reason.”

You crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. To your surprise, it didn’t hesitate. The cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm; its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. You smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

“I think it likes me,” you said, looking up at Lucas. “Maybe it's a stray. What do you think?”

Lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious expression. “It's a little too good to be true, don’t you think? A mysterious black cat following you around Hogwarts. You know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?”

“You're paranoid,” you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

“I’m cautious,” Lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. “But if you’re set on keeping it, we should make sure it’s not... I don’t know, an Animagus or something. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“You think someone’s been using this little thing to spy on me?”

Lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. “Could be, perhaps. There’s a simple charm to check for such things; it won’t hurt the cat - you have my promise.”

You stood up and took a step back, “Okay, but I’m telling you, it’s just a normal cat.”

Lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. A faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. It surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

You both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen. But the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

Lucas let out a breath, “Phew... what do you know? It’s just a regular old cat.”

“Told you,” you smirked, “looks like you’re now stuck with me and my new pet.”

The cat - as if it sensed your affectionate words - let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. You knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. A bond was already beginning to form. The only problem was the lice and many more things that were scattered across its fur.

"Alright, alright," Lucas said, laughing. "I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

With the cat in tow, you and Lucas continued down the path to Hogsmeade. The bustling village was already alive with students and locals; shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. As you entered Honeydukes, the warmth of the shop’s interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

“So, what’s your go-to sweet?” Lucas asked as he grabbed a basket, eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

“Maybe the peppermint toads?” you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. “They’re the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing.”

Lucas pulled a face, “You’re a maniac. It’s all about the fizzing whizzbees.”

Both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basket high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. At one point, Lucas tried to sneak a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

“You’re not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I'll save it for someone else.”

After stocking enough sweets to last almost a month, you and Lucas headed to Zonko’s. The shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. Lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at Hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the Weasleys.

It made you wonder if there was a Weasley in this timeline, or a Potter; surely there must—

“I’ve got it,” Lucas broke your trance, holding up a box of nose-biting teacups. “We’ll switch Maeve's regular tea with one of these. Can you imagine the look on her face?”

You shook your head, grinning, “You’re terrible.”

“Hey! You’re the one who agreed to come with me,” he replied, winking. “Makes you an accomplice.”

After spending almost an hour in Zonko’s, you finally dragged Lucas away before he bought the entire store. The two of you made your way back to Hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and - in your case - also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

“Already thought of a name?” Lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

You looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. “I’m not so sure yet; maybe something like ‘Shadow’?”

“Shadow,” Lucas mused, “hm, not bad; fits the whole ‘following you everywhere’ thing it’s got going on.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat’s fur against you. Despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

And as you and Lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal, like you were just a regular student at Hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

You went to sleep that day feeling better already, with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

The following morning, you made your way down the main hall, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. It was officially your second week at Hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

You reached the Gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs; some of them had pancakes. They waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“Morning, y/n!” Maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. Her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “Sleep well?”

You poured yourself a glass. “Pretty well, all things considered. I think I’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

Alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “Weird ancient beds? Try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! I had Nearly Headless Nick hovering over my bed last night, telling some kind of story about jousting. I barely slept.”

“Better Nick than Peeves, though. That poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during Charms yesterday,” Maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. These girls had made everything feel… lighter. The constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. Here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forgot the real reason why you were here.

“Mm, speaking of Charms,” Maeve said, glancing at her timetable. “We’ve got it again this morning. Think Professor Flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“I certainly hope so,” Lilith spoke as quietly as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Right? I’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. Imagine being able to summon an entire plate of pastries!” Lucas exclaimed.

“As if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, Luca,” Alicia rolled her eyes.

They continued to chatter about the day ahead while you found your gaze wandering around. The students were busy with their own conversations; some were studying, others were yawning over cups of tea, while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. Everything felt so normal.

When your eyes landed on the Slytherin table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. You’d almost forgotten about him.

Tom Riddle. He was sitting at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. He was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast, speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

You looked away quickly before his group—or him—could notice you staring. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“Everything alright?”

You gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, just thinking about today.”

“Don’t worry about it too much; it’s only the second week,” Lucas smiled. “Besides, you’re part of the group now. We’re in this together.”

“No backing out,” Lilith added, and for a second, you thought you’d melted.

You smiled, relaxing. You felt it reach your eyes; a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

Breakfast continued, and so did the conversation to a more light-hearted topic: Alicia’s and Lilith’s excitement about the next Hogsmeade trip, Lucas’s plans for another elaborate prank on their dorm mate, and Maeve’s ongoing battle with Peeves. You listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

Maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “Come on, y/n. Let’s see if we can make it to Flitwick’s class before Luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“I resent that,” Lucas called over his shoulder, “but I do want more pastries.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the Great Hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

When you arrived at the Charms class, it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. You took a seat next to Maeve on your left side. Behind another desk with space in between you two sat another girl—Slytherin.

“Good morning, everyone! Today, we will be practicing summoning charms—Accio!” Professor Flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

An exciting murmur passed through the room. You realized how, in their fifth year, they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in Harry’s timeline you learned more defensive spells or memory spells. The difference was huge.

Summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like Accio while you could easily Obliviate someone or use the Patronus charm.

“Partner up!” Flitwick instructed. You turned to look at Maeve, who was already grinning at you.

“I’ve been practicing this all week,” Maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s see if I can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time.”

“Alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you’re responsible,” you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

Maeve pointed her wand at one of the cushions Flitwick had left for practice. “Accio cushion!” she shouted, her wand slicing through the air.

The cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. “Not bad, right?”

You clapped lightly. “That was impressive!”

Maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you. “Your turn!”

You focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. After a flick of your wand, you called out,

“Accio cushion!”

The cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and knocking you back slightly. You laughed, catching it just in time. Maeve burst into giggles beside you.

“Well, at least it's working,” you said with a grin. Putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of Tom. He was practicing at the far end of the classroom. He performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. His focus was intense, almost unnerving.

You quickly turned towards Maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

The potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool; the only source of light was flickering. A mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to Alicia at one of the tables near the back.

“Right,” Alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. “I’ve got a good feeling about today’s potion. We’re supposed to make something simple, so there’s no way I can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week.”

You snickered. “Simple or not, I still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic.”

Before Alicia could respond, Professor Slughorn’s jovial voice boomed across the room. “Today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. Quite useful for, uh, stressful situations.” He winked at the class. “-“I’m sure none of you feel stressed, though.”

You could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. You could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

Slughorn’s face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. You gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup, and the fluxweed oil.

“So, you think Slughorn’s going to invite you to one of his little parties?” Alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. “Not very likely. I don’t really know what those parties are even about,” you lied. You went to one meeting with Hermione and decided to never go again. Simply a waste of time.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Well, Slughorn kinda ‘collects’ talented students. You’re smart, plus you’re new and kind. So, I’d say you're prime Slug Club material.”

You smiled at her. “We’ll see,” you said quietly. “Plus, I think Riddle is in Slug Club,” Alicia whispered.

You almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. “Sorry, what?” you gaped at her. She scoffed at you and smiled. “Don’t act dumb; I always see you looking at him.”

Your potion turned to a soft blue—that was a good sign. “What??? No, I don’t…” you mumbled and glanced over at Alicia’s cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

“Uh, Alicia... are you sure you didn’t add too much oil?” you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. “You’re not getting out of this conversation, Y/N,”Alicia said while she kept adding oil.

“No, no, I’m serious; look at those bubbles.”

“Oh, oops,” Alicia gasped and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. “Well, at least it’s not melting this time.”

You laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. Potions was always a mix of stress and humor with Alicia. Seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

Dumbledore’s class, there was a different energy in the air. The room was spacious and bright; high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. Dumbledore was standing at the front. “Today,” Dumbledore began, “we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations: turning inanimate objects into animals. Quite the leap from last week’s matchsticks to needles, wouldn’t you say?”

Maeve leaned over to you, whispering, “What if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?”

You snickered quietly.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the students’ desks. “Your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures of your choosing: a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. Be gentle and focus.”

You pointed your wand at the stone, visualising a small bird. With clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

To your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. It fluttered its wings in confusion before hopping onto your desk.

“Well, aren’t you just the star pupil,” Maeve teased with a grin. She was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

From the front of the class, Dumbledore’s eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. You continued helping Maeve when you caught a glimpse of Tom Riddle a few rows ahead. His magic was perfect—obviously. The stone in front of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

You sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on Maeve and her furry rock. There would be plenty of time to think about Tom later, but the time was ticking, and you knew it

Shadow, the cat that you’d taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. You smiled down at him; Shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. The cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

“You like books, don’t you?” you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. Shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

The library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. You loved it in the library; it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

Wandering through the shelves, you scanned the spines of the books you passed. Every so often, you’d glance behind you to make sure Shadow was still with you. Reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for - The Founder’s Legacy: A History of Hogwarts. It was a book you needed for your Muggle Studies.

You pulled it down and tucked it under your arm, turning to leave the aisle; but when you did, you noticed Shadow was gone. “Shadow?” you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. The silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

Frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. Only a few students were scattered around the tables, their heads buried in their studies. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

At one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was Tom Riddle.

With Shadow.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of Tom’s open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. Tom didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

For a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life’s choices. Seeing Shadow so comfortable made your heart race. Tom Riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in, and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

But only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at Tom Riddle.

So, you summoned up your courage and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

“Looking for this?” His voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. Shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against Tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

Hearing Tom’s voice changed something in you; a warm feeling spread through you.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady, trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. “I didn’t realise he’d wandered off.”

Tom’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you’d noticed in class. Then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind Shadow’s ear. The cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

“He seems to like me,” Tom observed. You had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. “He’s a friendly one.”

“I can see.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for Shadow. “Well, I should get him out of your way; he’s probably disturbing your reading. Or studying, or whatever…”

Tom didn’t move at first, and for a brief second, you thought he might not let you take back your cat. But then he pulled his hand back. Shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

You cradled Shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

You felt Tom’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. “Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “Not everything that follows you is harmless.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. Was that a warning? Or something more? Before you could reply, Tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened

A chill ran down your spine as you hugged Shadow closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you turned around.

Tom’s cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. You were halfway to the library’s entrance when you spotted Lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

“There you are!” he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library’s strict silence policy. He walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where Tom was sitting. “I saw you over there, chatting with Riddle.”

“Yeah... Shadow wandered over to him,” you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but Lucas’s presence helped a bit.

Lucas smiled. “Look, I’m just gonna say it: I’ve seen you stare at him at times, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Whatever he’s said to you—”

“He said something about not everything that follows you is harmless,” you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

“Okay, stop. That’s freakishly creepy,” Lucas gaped, stealing a glance at Tom. “Just... try to ignore him. Riddle’s either got everyone thinking he’s the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he’s bloody weird.”

Your curiosity piqued. “And what do you think?”

Lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. His grin returned. “Both.”

You chuckled at his bluntness. “Both?”

You walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. “Yeah, he’s good looking. I mean, objectively speaking,” Lucas said. “But there’s something about him that’s off. Like, he’s too good at... well, everything. It's unnatural; people are drawn to him, but they’re also... I don’t know, scared of him. You know? Even if they don't want to admit it.”

You nodded, thinking back to how Tom had looked at you - the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. There was definitely something unnerving about him. “He’s strange. Almost like he’s always one step ahead of everyone.”

“Exactly,” Lucas agreed. “It’s like he’s playing a game no one else knows the rules to. Trust me, best to keep your distance.”

“I wasn’t planning on making friends with him,” you said, shifting Shadow in your arms. The cat blinked lazily up at you.

“Good, I’ve got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle,” Lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

You let out a laugh. “Thanks, Lucas. I’ll be sure to tell you first if I get in over my head.”

Lucas grinned. “I’ll be there, wand at the ready.”

The two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with Tom slowly began to ease. Lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“Anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about Riddle. Did you get what you came for? Or are we heading back in for round two of ‘Tom the Cat Whisperer’?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more rounds with him for today, thanks. I think I’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. But I do think I might’ve left my book in there.”

Lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “We’ll get it first thing tomorrow. And if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. I won’t judge you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Please. You know I prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“See? That’s the right attitude.” He gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “Stick with me. I’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. As strange and intense as things had become, Lucas was a constant source of light. Maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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[a-bored-idiot]

Harry in the 1940s due to a magical accident: Don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious

proceeds to deck Tom in the face

Tom finds out he has a new kink

Tom becomes obsessed, completely ruining Harry's plan of being a nobody

It all leads to marriage

[hmdaaaa]

who would expect baby dark lord can be so shy? 🐍⚡

[khimeaarts]

It's been awhile since I've really done good progress for any personal art 😭 I've been too busy with work aaaa anyhow, I wanted a wallpaper for my laptop so my first thought is ofc my otp and I couldn't find one that's HD so... well I hope I finish rendering this 🫠

Harry: *asleep* *oblivious*

Tom: *internal conflict* *confusion* *feelings are a sign of weakness* *what are you* *you are the bane of my existence* *but someone I can't live without* *my equal* *my soul*

Me: sips drama ☕️

[bythepen98]

Tomarry 👉👈😌

I could not let go of my pen until I finished this.

Not kidding. Pulled an all nighter bc inspiration stuck on me like a leech and I didn't want it to run out while I was procrastinating. Had to keep that momentum going.

It usually takes me ages to finish bc I feel compelled to render my art but I stuck with a normal sketch for this one.

Also had help from a 3D pose app bc I realized yet again how hopeless I am without reference. My wrist ached when I finished fr. I am genuinely proud of this one though and can't stop looking at it 🙈 The look Harry has when staring at Tom and just the overall picture of Tom leaning over Harry makes me want to giggle into my pillow.

[virgil-anon]

I was reading this manga earlier and now I desperately need a tomarry fic where they attend Hogwarts together (time travel, some other au, it doesn't matter) and they both think the other one is psychotic. Harry's pov has Tom as seemingly regal but Harry knows he's a little FREAK. And Tom's pov shows Harry in a similar light, the quidditch captain, the golden boy, but he's also Tom Riddle's stalker, and a little freak just like Tom. Like they're both under the impression that they themselves are totally fine and sane, it's the OTHER GUY who's fucking bonkers but like. They're both so insane.

Idk if there's a fic like this already but if there is SOMEONE TELL ME RN

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Tomarry AU where Harry knows everything but it's not because he is a time traveller, neither because he is a seer —

Pages and words have always been Harry's best friend. Living inside a cupboard did not help with his obsession. Rather, it was due to those pages that he survived. (He was 14 when he got his room instead of a bloody cupboard to sleep in.). The library was the only place Harry was able to hide from Dudley before they were sent to different schools.

When he was fourteen, and hiding from Dudley in the public library (he was mad that his gaming room was given to him.) he ends up reading a book he came to like very much.

It was a book about an orphan boy (like him.) who ends up going to this magic world (oh, how Harry wished) but sadly Tom ended up being hated there as well. Harry was awed by Tom's strength, but also angry (at the world how they let Tom down.) and angry at Tom for destroying himself to destroy what hurt him (or maybe he was angry at himself for not being able to do the same, maybe he was angry that he couldn't save Tom —) Harry was fourteen and it would seem he was angry at a lot of things.

(—that day Harry punched Dudley back after Dudley hit him. He didn't get to eat for a week straight.)

Jealousy is something he never let himself feel, because it wasn't a privilege he was given — not really. But one thing he was jealous of was the fact that Tom got to fly. (Harry wondered some nights — hungry and unable to sleep — what would he do if he got a magic letter? Would he have friends? How nice it would be to get to eat 3 times a day — how nice it would be to just fly away.).

Harry Potter loved Tom Riddle. Harry Potter also loved Lord Voldemort. The boy who died to be born as a monster. The boy who swallowed all the hatred so that he could hate the world in return (oh, how Harry wish he could burn down the world too sometimes — how he wish he could just hate hate hate and not care care care; maybe then he would finally stop trying look for approval in his aunt's eyes). Harry knew when started reading the book Tom was as cruel as he was strong. And he knew as he read the text, there would come a day Tom would burn the world like he was also burned. Even though he didn't agree with Tom's decisions most of the time he knew Tom. So yes, Harry Potter might not agree with Voldemort but he still loved him. And he wished that he could tell him that. Wished he could tell the man who was still a boy that wanted a family so bad that he stayed up for hours at night searching, hungry to find any living family there was, hungry for a belonging that he wasn't even deigned in the magic world. He wished he could tell Voldemort that no matter what he became, Harry would love him.

So imagine his surprise when he wakes up in a moving train — right after going to bed (instead of a cake he got a can of soup) the night he turned sixteen. Imagine how surprised as he sat there, in robes that he doesn't remember he ever owned. Imagine him freaking out that he got kidnapped as the door of his train compartment opened, and in came Tom Riddle.

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 1

james potter x reader time travel au | 3k words | contents

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00:00 — 1 JANUARY

James waited until he’d fallen into his childhood home, half-plastered and sad and staring himself in the eyes through his bathroom mirror. His gaze seemed colder, lonelier than usual, and when he splashed his face with cool water it chilled him to the bone.

He’d never been unsettled by solitude, never minded much retreating to an empty bed at the end of a long day. Until then.

That’s when he knew he had to go back.

+

“Pardon me.”

The voice from behind you was so sudden and deep that you jumped, whipping around clumsily to meet it.

“God, you startled me!”

Laying eyes on the man responsible, you instantly released any ill-will you had.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, and you were already quite smitten.

He was young, though surely not any younger than you. Handsome too, in a dismantling way, like he might take you apart if you were an old clock, just to see what made you tick.

And if he wasn’t young and handsome, he’d still gain a little credit just in looking so guilty for spooking you.

“Hi.”

This was January, and you were out on the veranda, so your breath escaped you visibly. You were aware of it trickling upward as the handsome man smiled shyly and introduced himself.

“I’m James.”

Leaning up against a white banister, you snuggled further into your shawl, watching him. He was a few steps above you, and taller by a lot anyways, so it posed a bit of a strain.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely name,” James commented, not missing a beat. It surprised you, but you rallied easily.

“And yours.” You sipped your drink, and when he hadn’t formed a response, decided to elaborate. “Classic.”

James ducked his head in a dashing sort of way, adding a little humility to the lethal mix of attractive traits he contained.

“Yeah, but don’t let it take any precedence. It's strangeness across the board for the rest of me.”

Your lips curled up at the corners.

“For some reason I think that’s true,” you teased, eyes shining with mirth.

There were lots of ways to be flirted with, several of which left a bad taste in your mouth and a loneliness that felt unquenchable in your chest, but this you liked.

James spoke like he was on his toes, constantly steeped in anticipation. If possible, he seemed to savor every moment while simultaneously rushing into better, deeper territory.

He came further down the steps then, and you appreciated the relief on your neck. The smell that drifted off of him was like honey and biscuits, perpetually warm on your senses, even in late winter.

“So how do you know Marlene,” James asked, and you felt the tightness of excitement in your chest realizing that he was going to stay and talk to you.

“Work,” you told him, “she’s a madwoman. Flirts with all the customers.”

James kept a polite distance from you, gravitating toward a patch of light from the windows. He wore a tailored suit that was primarily night blue, which somehow fit him with both strict lines and a charming rumpled messiness.

You wondered if he’d get any easier to look at.

“That sounds like Marly,” James agreed, looking fond. A tiny needle of jealousy pricked you, which was ridiculous, because if this were Marlene’s boyfriend she’d have been shouting it from the rooftops.

Clinging to that affirmation, you asked, “you two are familiar?”

Each of James’ hands held the opposite bicep in a half-hearted cross, aiding a small shrug.

“We went to school together.”

You nodded, growing envious for new reasons.

“That seems to be the theme around here. I’m sad I missed it.”

James smiled warmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it was boarding school? We had to share dorms all year.”

Fiddling with a ring on your finger, your gaze skipped to the square orange portal that led to the party inside. The window was one on the back wall of the parlor, and it became devastatingly easy to pick out the school club from the others inside. Marlene lounged beside other sharp girls and well-dressed guys, all of them laughing and bickering like siblings. You craved to be at the heart of it more than anything.

“Co-Ed?” you asked abruptly, tearing away from the vibrant crowd to see James’ face contort.

“No,” he laughed. “I roomed with Sirius, Remus and Frank.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Four to a room?”

James’ laugh thickened, his spectacles glinting white as his head tossed back. His amusement was acerbic, corrupting your bewilderment until it was lost to a goofy smile.

“I do feel much better, thank you,” you said. “Private school sounds awful.”

“Well, don’t rub it in, now,” he chided lightly.

An army of wind marched around the corner of the estate then, fighting through your thin shawl. James’ eyes traced your shivering frame as he stepped ever closer.

“Erm, hey, I was wondering—”

The patio door opened, delicate glass inlaid with iron, and yet your moment with James seemed the thing to shatter. A fair-skinned man stepped out, a hunt in his eyes, and you hoped whatever it was for wasn’t James.

Nyx-dark hair moved like shadows over the night sky, reflecting the party inside glossily. His head turned, and then he was laying eyes on your companion.

“James!” The man said, his poised effect splitting down the middle, revealing a collie’s energy. He motioned for James to meet him up on the landing. “C’mon mate, Remus has a plan.”

James shook his head simply.

“Do it without me, yeah?”

Something territorial swept over James’ friend’s face, and he suddenly looked you over. You were embarrassed to only warrant a millisecond of his attention.

“Bollucks,” he declared, challenging James to disagree. “Let’s go.”

Then he returned swiftly inside, leaving both French doors and your chest swung open. James sighed, the weight of a lost battle on his shoulders, and found your eyes again.

“Sorry, that’s Sirius,” he explained, and you supposed that would make sense.

“The roommate,” you provided. James nodded.

“I swear he’s nicer.”

You wouldn’t say you found him rude, just unfriendly. He certainly seemed warm, as did everyone at the party, but to a select few people. A select few that didn’t include you.

You said, “I’m sure.” If James thought someone was nice, they probably were. He seemed a good judge of character. Unless you had very poorly judged his character, which you wouldn’t put past yourself.

James winced. “I have to go. But, um—”

“James, mate, come on,” Sirius called from inside, and then he and another, taller man poked their heads out to check his progress in detaching himself from you.

“Alright, one second!”

You’re not sure why you said it, perhaps the people pleaser overriding your system, but you said, “it’s alright, James. You can go.”

It didn’t make him look any less torn. His head whipped back and forth between you and his friends, trying to find a solution.

Of course you wanted him to stay, but you didn’t want to hold him hostage, so you tried your best to look supportive of whatever he chose.

In the end, he stepped close to you, brows pinched with regret.

“I won’t be long. Will you—would you stay?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, choking back the clawing barrage of disappointment.

“‘Course,” you said.

James blew out a breath, relaxing his tense posture.

“I really swear it. Back before you can say ‘private school,’ yeah?”

You laughed weakly, taking a long look at him for memory.

“Yeah.”

Reluctantly, James backed away from you, then turned to climb the steps toward his friends. They were sagged with impatience, hanging onto his every step the same way you were, except for different reasons. In a way, you were more jealous of these two than you were of Marlene, because they were like James’ brothers. They knew him better than probably anyone, you guessed.

James hopped up onto the landing and glanced back to you, frowning slightly. The light from inside caught his lenses just so, hiding his eyes from you, and that small detail alone felt like the end of all things.

Then, Sirius and his accomplice took each of James’ arms and hauled him inside, shutting the doors behind them.

Shivering again, you watched the three of them appear in the window, heads bowed together in conspiracy. James looked different there, like something out of a movie. He snapped right into place with the rest of them, glittering and masterfully made.

It was clear he had a world of his own—one that you would likely never penetrate, no matter how badly you wanted for it, no matter how long you waited in the cold.

Marlene would forgive you for running off, but you’d never forgive yourself if you got sick for a silly dream, so you left the party and made peace with the what-if that was James.

+

James fell headfirst out of the cramped coat closet, cursing as his legs tangoed and lost to a tall pair of rain boots. In his fall, he took down with him three raincoats and a hanging organizer (six hats, a bucket of gloves, and five and half pairs of sandals).

He was already tired and fuming when he entered the closet, and now he felt he’d completely lose it any second. Disengaging from his fight with evil clothing, he scooched on his bum to the scrunched up hall runner that paved the Mckinnon’s entry.

Near the end of it someone cleared their throat, and James looked up to see Fabian and Gideon Prewett, the nosiest blokes in the world. Fantastic.

“Look who we have here,” said one twin, the other smiling wickedly, ready to pick up the second half of their routine snooping.

“Off for a snog-sesh with someone, are we, James?”

Battling to his feet, James let out a long-suffering sigh, already moving their way.

“Yeah, your mum,” he snarked.

As they both laughed, James prepared to push between them, but they parted before he had to. He walked through their flank, relieved yet nervous—the typical reaction those two elicited.

Leaving them behind, the narrow hall forked off into several different rooms, offices and kitchens and a library. James played here even before he was in school with Marlene, so he knew every corner like it was his own home. He headed for the parlor.

Even for someone who had never been in the house, finding James’ destination would be easy. All they had to do was follow the music.

In the parlor, chaise lounges were hardly visible under old school friends and their families, the walls lined with business partners and gossiping aunts. Smaller children ran amok, like birds weaving between a forest of mingling adults. The hearthfire hissed and spat, bound to take down at least one fashionably dressed lady before the year was over.

James swept his gaze over the bobbing heads and flying hands, looking for someone in particular. Sirius’ thick black hair beat like a raven's wing near the back of the room, so that’s where the bespectacled boy went.

On his path, Remus stood glued to a wall, looking very antisocial. He pinged from one crutch to another, taking up new residence at James’ side.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“Had to take a piss,” James said casually. He’d grown accustomed to small lies like that, since no one knew about his little habit.

Remus didn’t question it, just picked through the crowd to where Sirius was.

“Padfoot,” James called, and he didn’t have to say anything else. Sirius excused himself and met the two of them without question, a silent understanding that forged the undercurrent of their friendship.

James led them all into another hall, one closer to the crystalline patio doors.

“I heard,” James started, “that Marlene has a pot stash somewhere ‘round here.”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, and James knew he had them. Even if they came up dry, the two of them would snoop just to snoop, and Remus obviously wanted away from the party anyways.

“Whereabouts do you think it is,” Sirius asked, looking at a mounted painting like it might be involved.

“Dunno,” James said, “but if we split up I bet we’d find it before the new year.”

Sirius grinned, and it spread onto Remus’ lips.

“I can take downstairs, and you and Pads can go up,” Remus said.

James shook his head.

“No, you two can go.” The two of them gave James skeptical looks, but he shrugged. “I have heavy footsteps, they’d hear me up there.”

Sirius’ expression cleared, and then he was nodding along. “Right.” He took Remus’ arm in his grasp and pulled him along. “Let’s go, Moony. I bet we can find some before Prongs.”

James heard Remus object that, “it’s only in one place,” before their conversation was lost by distance. Then, he turned around and pushed through the back doors, praying you were where he left you.

You were. Just like last time, your back was turned to him. You were staring at the clear sky, gripping your wrap close to your chest. James remembered that he’d startled you before, so he latched the doors as noisily as possible. You still didn’t come around.

He supposed that was for the best, actually, since he’d changed something already. He crept down the steps, feeling terrible for sneaking up on you, and wondering what you might’ve been thinking about that kept you so distracted.

“Pardon me,” James begged, and you spun around in shock.

“God, you startled me!”

James smiled, and your eyes trailed all over him. He couldn’t say he minded, since he was doing the same.

You reminded him of a mouse—shy but necessarily bold, holding yourself up outstandingly well as a stranger in a roomful of friends. That was, until you dipped outside and didn’t return.

“Sorry, hi,” he apologized, really meaning it this time. As expected, you smiled shyly, golden champagne tilting in the glass you held.

“Hi.”

A swath of mist escaped your mouth with the exhaled greeting. James had to remind himself that you didn’t remember the first time this happened, so you wouldn’t know his name.

“I’m James.”

You leant back, neck craning to keep his eyes. James stepped down to accommodate you, and your brows smoothed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s a pretty name,” James said, getting bolder. It was hard to hold himself away from you.

You dropped your head then, smiling primly at the stone steps.

“Thank you,” you said, instead of complimenting James in return.

James blinked. What happened?

“Yours—”

“I’m—”

James paused as you both spoke at the same time, looking at you the way someone might look at a tricky puzzle.

“Sorr—”

“You can—oh.”

Fingers pressed to your mouth, you looked at James, a tentative smile in your eyes. James sighed, and then laughed strangely. He motioned for you to go ahead, only to find your hand unfolding into the same gesture. Both of you stared at each other for a beat before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You go,” James said finally, smiling. You just shook your head.

“I don’t even remember.”

James squinted at your rosy cheeks, his lips picking up at the corners. You could lead a horse to water, he supposed.

The temptation to learn more about you began to win him over, so he bent a few rules.

“So you work with Marlene, I hear,” he spoke, fibbing ever so slightly.

You smiled a bit, none the wiser. “I do, yeah.”

James looked inside, checking for dark hair or an itchy sweater, but Remus and Sirius were still missing. Good.

“What’s that like?”

Brows furrowing, you followed his gaze.

“It’s…interesting. She’s really nice, but she—”

“Flirts with all the customers?” James supplied, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stared at him for a tick. “Yeah. You must know her?”

“Childhood friends,” James decided, nodding. When he turned back to you, you were raking your eyes over his dressy outfit, lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes found his, and you looked away. James thought he saw a flush to your cheeks.

The wind whipped around the corner then, and James began shouldering his thick jacket off, finally doing what he’d wanted to do before.

“You must be crazy,” he said, coming closer. “It’s freezing out here.”

You braved a look at him, and alarm sunk into your features.

“No, James, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Don’t be polite, lovely, you’re shivering. Here.”

James slowly held his coat over your shoulders, leaning back to watch you carefully. He saw the moment you accepted his offer, sinking back into the warmth the garment still held.

“Thank you,” you breathed as James pulled away. He shoved his cold hands into his pockets, now looking to conserve heat.

“‘Course.”

Though his hands weren’t on you anymore, James stayed just as close as he was moments ago. He could smell the champagne in your glass. He glanced around to the garden, to your feet on the step, just below his.

“D’you want to head inside?” he asked. “It’s almost midnight, I think.”

Your lips turned up, and James hoped to God he’d get to kiss them.

“That sounds lovely.”

+

James flipped his phone open, the small screen giving off just enough light in his dark room to make him squint. He was wondering what you’d put for your contact—a smiley face, maybe, or a heart? He hoped you put a heart. It took his brain far too long to catch up to reality.

With a shock of gut-twisting dread, James realized he’d been so wound up over kissing you that he forgot to ask for your phone number. Your phone number.

He groaned, glancing at his bed longingly, but he knew he wouldn’t fall into it very soon. He’d go back a hundred times before he slept that night if it got him one date with you.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[mauveberries]

one tomarry trope i like more than harry travelling back in time is when tom travels forward in time. preferably with several of his schoolmates like walburga, abraxas, orion, alphard, lestrange.. etc. oh, the drama hits. like can you imagine walburga travelling forward in time and meeting sirius, whos stuck in grimmauld after being wrongfully convicted as a war criminal? ugh, perfect.

abraxas sneering at draco, orion and wally fighting so much sirius is so done with their bullshit. alphard just.. being there.

walburga coming across her own portrait in grimmauld 😭 naturally, chaos ensues. walburga screaming at sirius and the portrait of future her joins in as well

tom seeing voldemort, but instead of being disgusted like the usual trope, he’s in awe, he loves his new visage, slits for nostrils and all (he just wishes future him has a bit more sanity)

harry losing his temper, and being like, ‘i hate you. you killed my parents!’ and tom’s in the room, surrounded by his schoolmates whom he finds out he had killed in the future: ‘i ended up killing almost everyone in this room, your parents aren’t special’

tom easily dominating and entirely sweeping the floor with harry in a duel. best trope.

dumbledore now having to deal with not one but TWO tom riddles.. UGH so good. tom getting annoyed at harry and strangling him with his bare hands. and harry’s like: ‘voldemort almost choked me to death. you know how it is’ when asked.

walburga disgusted at tom for killing off her future son and the major fight that ensues. hermione trying to see how smart tom really is, and being completely stumped, because in addition to all the knowledge she has, he is extremely competent at dark and blood magic, which she isn’t.

tom now wielding immunity in the form of voldemort’s protection and trying to kill walburga when she calls him mudblood. tom telling abraxas lucius is hotter than him.

tom and voldemort having a mental link so that voldemort’s memories come trickling into tom’s brain, until he just decides to do a ritual so that voldemort gets his sanity and human body back.

voldemort killing dumbledore eventually

walburga and orion having another son in the future and naming him regulus (sirius is Tired)

This is where the drama’s at, honestly

[bonniesfamiliar]

DIMENSION TRAVEL STORY IDEA: Summary: Harriet "Harry" James Potter has travelled to an alternate dimension during a spell gone wrong (Kreacher's actually responsible cuz he cares about Harry since she's the Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black) Harriet knows it's an alternate dimension cuz she finds a newspaper stand and lo and behold, who's on the front cover? Tom. Fucking. Riddle. But not the ugly Voldemort Tom Riddle she killed. No this is young Tom Riddle who grew up FINE AS HELL.

And he's on the front page cuz he's The Minister of Magic and guess what he's talking about.

Dumbledore.

He's talking about Dumbledore.

And not manipulative gramps Dumbledore whose beard is longer than my hair.

No.

We're talking about this one

You know why he's talking about this Dumbledore?

Because Albus. Percival. Fucking. Dumbledore decided to become the epitome of "Be Gay, Do Crime," with Gellert Grindelwald, his husband.

DUMBLEDORE IS A DARK LORD WITH HIS HUBBY

So Harriet is obviously freaking out and does the right thing.

She goes to a pub and drinks her sorrows away in Scottish Whiskey, (Thank you, Minny)

But Harry never makes reasonable decisions so when she finds a quill and paper, guess what she does.

She writes to Misinter Riddle.

But the drama doesn't end there.

Whenever Harriet does anything, whether she writes or talks about Tom Riddle, she doesn't speak in English.

She talks in Pareseltongue.

(Cuz she and tom are the only Parselmouths. I think.)

So Parseltongue.

Harriet writes in parseltongue to the Minister of Fucking Magic on his wrongdoings in her universe.

The letter literally looks like this:

ssss ssss sssssssss ss ssssss s sss ssssssss ssssss sss sss ss ssss ssssssss ssssssss ssss ssssss sssssss ss ss sssssssss and that transcribes to 

"Dear Lord Voldemort, or should I say Minister Riddle, you are an ugly noseless hairless evil snakey bastard in my dimension,"

and cuz she's spiteful, she signs it off with "You-Know-Who"

But the thing is Harriet never mentioned her name or who her parents were.

So when Minister Riddle receives this letter, he freaks out and then does everything he can to find this person.

Not to kill them.

But to woo them.

This kind, thoughtful person has travelled from another dimension just to stop him from becoming evil.

AND THEY'RE A PARSELMOUTH.'

THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY HIS SNAKE MATE. (cuz he killed all of the Gaunts and Riddles so they're not family)

You can bet ur ass he was squealing to Nagini at the thought of having another Parselmouth in the world with him.

He's obsessed.

(He's not tom riddle if he doesn't have possessive issues and his jealousy issues are just as bad.🤭🤭🤭🥰🥰🥰😩😩😩)

Like it's not a want.

It's a need.

He needs the writer of this letter to be with him forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and-

You probably get the idea.

Anyway, 1 year goes by.

Tom Riddle: I MUST FIND THIS PERSON AND MAKE THEM MINE

Harriet Potter: *forgets about even writing the letter* 

Tom is growing more obsessed as the days go by and then he meets a woman at a charity ball held for idk an organisation for potieneers? Potion Masters?

She's chatting up with Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger cuz she's been working with them cuz they remind her of Hermione and she needed a job.

Anyway, he approaches the couple in hopes of talking to them and Harriet sees Minister Riddle approaching and quickly moves away to head to the drinks table.

And then lets out a breath of relief when she realises he wasn't heading for her.

She schmoozes for a few more minutes before calling it quits and heading out for fresh air.

The party is at the Dagworth-Granger's manor so she goes out to the gardens.

And hears a cry for help.

Her Gryffindor instincts push her to run towards the sound of danger.

But her Slytherin side made her hide behind the wall from where the cry of help had come from.

It was a witch being harassed by two wizards.

One of the wizards was holding her wand, taunting her.

While the other had begun to take off her outfit.

Before it could go any further, she brought the men's attention to her and with a flick of her wrist, Harriet had the men on their knees.

She then walked over to the one holding the witch's wand and grabbed it out of his hand, accidentally snapping his wrist in the process.

She gave the witch her wand back and accepted the shaky hug she received.

Harriet waited until the witch was out of sight before she turned to the men and smiled, watching as their faces fell into horror as they saw the fangs in her mouth.

(I'm in love with the prompt by a post on tumblr where  Basilisk!Harry is hugging Kneazle!Hermione and Dragon!Ron also wants his cuddles. I can't find the person who made it but I've lived by the idea that these would be their animagus forms if they ever performed the spell like James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had done to become illegal animagi for Remus Lupin)

Harriet rips into their throats, feeds on them and then turns their bodies into ash with the fiendryfire spell.

She grabbed a mirror from her purse to erase the blood from her face and clothes and began to walk away lest anyone come looking for the wizards.

But, Harriet suddenly slammed into what felt like a wall.

A very warm wall.

Regaining her bearings, Harriet looked up to notice that the "wall" was MINISTER RIDDLE.

AND HE WAS HOLDING HER ARMS.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She said pasting a smile on her face.

Shift of POV:

Minister Riddle internally sighed at being stuck in another ball instead of being at home, analysing the letter once again.

He was certain it was a woman who sent it as there was a red lipstick kiss on the paper after it was signed sss-ssss-sss (You-Know-Who)

His thoughts are cut off when Lady Dagworth-Granger asks her husband where Harriet is.

Who is Harriet? he muses but when Lord Dagworth-Granger offers to look in the gardens, Tom leaps at the chance to run away from the party.

He goes into the gardens aimlessly walking around for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts of his mysterious parselmouth when a witch comes out of nowhere and collides with him.

He uprighted her by placing his hands on her arms and looked on curiously as she seemed to freeze in place when she looked up to see that it was he she bumped into.

Tom Riddle is the one to freeze when she speaks.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She says an innocent smile on her face as if she had no idea his whole world had just flipped on its axis.

Parseltongue.

She's speaking in parseltongue.

She's his parselmouth.

The one from another dimension.

But he had to clarify so he replies honestly for the first time in his life, in parseltongue, "I've been looking for you," 

"Searching for me? Whatever for?"

A boyish smile widens on his face before he forces it into a polite smile.

"The Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger have been searching for you, Miss Harriet I believe you are?" He reverts to English to test if she notices the change but she doesn't.

She just replies in English, "Ah, I see. I disappeared for too long with my break from the stuffiness of the ball and yes, I am Harriet."

Harriet, he muses in his mind, no last name to give for me.

She extends her gloved hand for him to shake but Tom riddle reaches for both of her hands and turns them over to kiss them gently and forces himself not to give into the urge of nuzzling into her hands (well not yet at least) and without letting them go, he straightens to his full height to tower over her (giving him a thrill at knowing she was shorter, meaning he could easily pick her up and carry her, be it over his shoulders or bridal style) and replies, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harriet. No last name?"

(Harriet has been wearing gloves cuz of the 'I must not tell lies' scars that cover her hands.)

Harriet smiles teasingly towards him and his cold heart thaws ever so, "I couldn't decide on a last name and I've decided I like the mysterious aura it gives me,"

Or maybe she couldn't risk using her real last name because she was from a different dimension, Tom muses in his mind, Nevertheless, Harriet Riddle has a lovely ring to it.

Harriet Potter: *staring confused at Tom Riddle as he smiles down at her

Tom Riddle: *Winter would be a lovely time to get married, wouldn't it?

I'm stopping here cuz it's a summary, not a story. Yes, I'm Evil.

Tell me if you like it tho.

I was this close *makes an inch between her fingers* to making this a Soulmate AU story.

Think of the angst that Harriet would go through all her life knowing that her soulmate's words to her are:  I've been looking for you

And it's an alternate hotter version of Tom Riddle, AKA THE BAD GUY WHO MURDERED HER PARENTS 

And think of how Harriet's words had motivated Tom his entire life to do his best to work hard (and cheat death) to live long enough for his soulmate to see him one day at a place be it a library or a gala or a hallway and ask him: Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?

Huh.

Maybe I should make them soulmates.

I need a timeline. fuck.

Um.

Riddle was educated at Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945, and was sorted into Slytherin House, a nod to his ancestor Salazar Slytherin.

Making Tom 34 cuz 1927 is the year Tom was born in if he went to Hogwarts in 1938 which would make him 11 in 1938 and 38-11 is 27 so 1927 is when he was born.

61-27=34 so Harriet is in 1961 but cuz of the time skip tom is 35 years old in 1962

Harriet was born in 1980 

The Second War technically began on 24 June, 1995, though was not officially announced by the Ministry until nearly a year later on 17 June, 1996, and ended on 2 May, 1998, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the death of the Dark Lord.

Which made Harriet 18 in 1998, 24 in 2004, 24 in 1961 and 25 in 1962

 but she deserves peace so the year Kreacher sent her back was 2004 which would make her 24 cuz he's horrified that she hasn't attempted to romance anyone since Cedric Diggory.

Tbh, if he was my bf I would never love again.

But then hubby "I would burn the world down for you and rebuild a new one from its ashes" tom riddle is here and I'm like Cedric who?

But none of them compare to (long list of titles, I'll research later.) Harriet James Potter.

[jlhynde-insanitybrilliance]

This is exactly how it’s gonna go—

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 1

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

IB: people who used to make this wattpad stories, i used to ate those upppp🫣 & i love the tom hughes, tom riddle smmm

The air was thick; it smelled like blood and burning wood everywhere. The echoes of the battle were ringing faintly in the distance. Hidden away from the chaos, Severus Snape lay crumpled on the cold floor, his body slick with blood, life slipping away from him with each passing second.

Voldemort had left him to die, discarded like a broken tool. Nagini’s venom coursed through his veins, its poison cruelly efficient, and yet Snape’s eyes remained sharp. His gaze was fixated on Harry, standing just a few steps away, his face pale with shock and confusion. Snape’s focus wavered as he turned his eyes weakly, finding you—your form trembling as you knelt beside him, your heart shattering at the sight.

You might not have the best bond with a teacher like Snape, but never would you wish death upon someone.

“Take it… you both…” Snape rasped, his voice a whisper and urgent. Deep within his cloak, he pulled out one small vial and one small potion-like bottle. His hands shook as he reached for his own tear-streaked face. Slowly he collected the silvery drops that clung there, memories shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Harry knelt down beside you now, watching in silence, his confusion giving way to a deeper understanding. Snape’s dark eyes locked into yours as he extended the vial towards you.

“You need to.. know the truth.”

Tears of your own spilled down your cheeks as you took the vial from his trembling hand. “You… were meant to change it all,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You can save him… save everyone. But only if you understand what must be done, the sacrifices you’ll have to make.”

The weight of the vial suddenly felt heavier than before, as you sat beside Snape’s lifeless body, his final words echoing in your mind.

Harry’s face was pale and grief-stricken. His eyes met yours and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“We have to go,” Harry said, his voice hoarse, snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at the vial of silvery liquid in your hand. “The Pensieve. We need to see what he left for us.”

“Yeah,” was the only thing you could mutter out, your throat tight with a mixture of fear and urgency. Without another word, both of you scrambled to your feet.

Fires flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows across the grounds and hallways as the final battle raged on.

Harry led the way, his steps quick, with you right behind him, clutching the vial so tightly in your hand that you thought it might shatter at any given moment.

“We have to hurry,” he urged over his shoulder. “Whatever’s in these memories, it’s important. Snape wouldn’t have—” his voice caught in his throat.

You only nodded, your mind spinning with Snape's last words. “You can save him… but only if you know what must be done.”

Save who? Harry? Voldemort? Was there a part of Tom Riddle still left inside the monster he had become? And how were you connected to him? Why you in the first place?

You reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry barely paused to spit out the password.

“Sherbet lemon!”

The gargoyle sprang to life, and the two of you rushed up the spiral staircase, out of breath.

Dumbledore's office had a heavy scent of old parchment and burning candle wax filling the air. You and Harry stood side by side, breathing heavily from the sprint through the castle. The weight of the vial, now emptied, felt almost meaningless in your hands. Your heart pounded in your chest.

Harry held your gaze briefly, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. “Let's do this,” he said, his voice straining slightly. You nodded in return, your throat too tight to speak. Together, you leaned over the Pensieve, letting yourselves be pulled into the swirling memories.

The world around you started shifting, and suddenly, you were in the same office, just a few things placed differently.

Before you could take in your surroundings further, you noticed him—Severus Snape, somewhat younger, his dark hair still hanging around his face. You and Harry exchanged a look. Snape stood rigid before Dumbledore's desk, his expression (as always) unreadable.

“This is madness, Albus,” Snape spat, his voice low and venomous. “You're going to send her back in time, knowing she will not be able to return? She will be trapped there—forever. A time-turner cannot help her.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a quill in his hand as he gazed at Snape with a somber, almost mournful expression. “I understand your anger, Severus, but there is no other way.”

You took note of how Snape looked younger but not that much younger. You saw the gash in his leg and guessed this would've taken place during first year.

“She doesn't know, does she?” Snape's voice cut off your train of thought. “No, she does not,” Albus replied softly. “And it is better that way, for now.”

'She'—that was you. This memory was about you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“You're asking her to do the impossible—to change him. Tom Riddle cannot be saved. He was already lost when you met him in the orphanage.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore replied. “But she must try. If there is even the smallest chance to alter the course of his soul, it is through her.”

Snape gave a slight scoff. “If she is to succeed, she must know everything!” You never realized how much he cared for you and your friends.

“But you told her nothing of this?”

Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards the parchment in front of him. “When the time is right, she shall know what to do.” Dumbledore sighed, rising from his chair. “And do not worry, she will know, Severus, but not before the right time.”

Snape's face twisted in frustration. “And if she fails? What then?”

“Her connection to Tom Riddle is delicate, and should she go back into the past with full knowledge, it could endanger everything. The balance between them is fragile,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry's hand clenched beside you, his breath quickening. “Go back in time?” he whispered, echoing the questions that were swirling in your own mind. Snape turned sharply, “You're asking too much of her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sending her back in time, to Tom Riddle's fifth year... If she doesn't succeed in making him—”

“—experience love,” Dumbledore finished. “Love is the key, Severus.” You felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath you. Tom Riddle—love? That would be impossible. Is this what Dumbledore had planned for you all along? To go back into the past, to love a young Tom Riddle before he became Lord Voldemort?

“How... how could anyone make Riddle love someone?” you whispered to Harry.

“You are condemning her to live out her days in a time that's not her own! She won't even be able to return! You've bound her to the past,” Snape stressed.

The headmaster's gaze grew sharper, though there was still that calm weight behind it. “She is connected to Tom Riddle in ways we cannot fully understand. If there is hope for him, it lies in her hands—her influence. But no, Severus, she cannot come back. The magic involved in sending her back is... irreversible.”

“You will send her to a monster! To a boy who will grow to become the Dark Lord,” Snape sneered. "What happens if she doesn't succeed in her task?”

Dumbledore's eyes closed for a moment. “If she cannot reach him... if his heart remains as closed as it is now, then yes, Voldemort will rise like he did. And our fate is sealed.”

Snape looked up at him. “You truly believe she can save him?”

Dumbledore's eyes glinted, the faintest trace of hope dancing behind them. “I believe she is the only one who can.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “She will remain in that time. She will live there, bound to the past...”

After the sensation finally stopped, you and Harry found yourselves back in the present. The glow of the Pensieve slowly faded, leaving only the silence of the room.

You stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what you had just witnessed — the conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. The weight of it hung heavy in the air, pressing down on you both.

“If you go, you can't come back,” Harry whispered, almost to himself, as though saying it out loud would make it reality. His face was pale. “Once you go back into Riddle's time... you're stuck there. Forever.”

“And if I fail...” your voice shook as the truth finally settled in. “If I can't change him, you'll have to battle him. Harry, you'll die.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, he seemed as lost as you were. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of Dumbledore's desk. “I don't understand, Dumbledore... Snape... they planned all of this—” he stopped, turning to face you. “How are you supposed to change Tom Riddle?”

You shook your head. “I don't know, Harry. I don't know how I'm supposed to make him love or... stop him from becoming Voldemort. What if I can't even do it?”

Harry stepped toward you, his expression softening, though his own fear was palpable. “You've faced worse, right? You've fought Death Eaters. You survived this war with us. If anyone can do it, it's you,” Harry finished saying. “But I hate that it has to be you.”

The weight of his words hung between the two of you.

“I don't—Dumbledore said we were connected somehow, that we're soul-bound, basically... but what if that's not enough?”

Harry's jaw tightened, frustration breaking through his calm. “It's unfair! It's always unfair with him!” Harry raised his arms. “He expects too much. First me, now you! He's always asking us to make these impossible choices.”

You nodded, and your heart ached at Harry's raw emotion. “I can't let you die, Harry,” you stated softly. “I can't stand by and watch that happen.”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer so his hands gripped your shoulders. “And I can't let you go back in time, knowing you'll never come home.”

For a moment, the two of you stood like that, caught between the devastating choice laid before you. You could feel the pull of what needed to be done.

“If this is the only way, then we'll find a way to make it work. We'll figure out how to change him, how to make him love. We'll do it together,” Harry nodded, sure of his plan.

You smiled through tears. “Harry, once I go, I'll be alone.”

His grip tightened on your shoulders. “You won't be alone. You've never been alone in this. You'll have everything we've ever fought for — the memories. And more than that... you'll have hope.”

Tears were threatening to leave your eyes, but you swallowed them back. You nodded at Harry.

Harry took the small potion out of his jacket pocket. The liquid inside was an ethereal, shimmering gold, glowing faintly in the dim of the room. The potion, the one that would send you back in time — and trap you there.

Your hands shook as you took the potion from Harry. The glass felt cold in your palm. The moment had come, and it was terrifying. Once you drank it, you knew there would be no turning back, no returning to the world and people you once knew. No more friends, no more future. Only the past, which would become your future.

Harry shifted beside you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. There was a plea in his words, though he wasn't trying to stop you. He couldn’t. He knew as well as you did that this was the only way.

“I don't have a choice,” you whispered back, your voice shaking. You gave him a small nod, though your heart still pounded in your chest. You uncorked the bottle. The faint scent of something sweet filled the air. The liquid seemed almost alive, swirling around.

You took one last look at Harry, locking in the image of his face — strong, determined, your best friend. This might be the last time you'd ever see him.

“I'll miss you,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. Harry's eyes glistened, but he gave a small, resolute nod. “I'll miss you too.”

With a final breath, you raised the vial to your lips. The liquid was warm, surprisingly smooth as it slid down your throat. At first, it didn't feel like anything was happening, but then the warmth began to spread, starting in your chest and slowly moving through your body.

The world around you started to blur, and a dizzying sensation took over. Harry's voice was distant now, “It's happening.”

Your vision blurred, and you could feel time itself shifting, bending, pulling you away from the present and hurling you backward into the past.

It was overwhelming, as though your existence was being unraveled and re-made on a different planet. You feared you might lose yourself entirely.

And then, everything came to a hurtling stop. The warm feeling of the potion faded, replaced by a cool, crisp breeze against your skin. You opened your eyes, heart still pounding, and took in your surroundings.

It felt so familiar, yet completely different. Hogwarts stood tall, the grounds more pristine, untouched by the war, by the battles you had grown so accustomed to. The castle's windows shimmered, and the air smelled fresh.

At last, you found yourself in the past.

[mellifluousmalfoy]

cyclamen. // tom riddle x reader.

warnings; death, angst, a lot of it. sorry.

i listened to once more to see you by mitski quite a lot while writing this over the course of two years. i sincerely hope you enjoy this piece.

wc; 7.3k

It felt as though the world had grown silent as this monster stood in front of my peers and I, announcing the death of our classmate who was our last hope.

I glanced around the courtyard that was now in ruins and watched as all hope and faith was drained from my peers. My ears rang as I watched as the monster's lips moved, but I couldn't seem to hear a thing. My sight blurred as I lost track of what was happening around me.

Harry Potter was dead.

I could barely comprehend what was happening around me, only feeling a cold hand take hold of mine, dragging me through the bustling crowd. I noticed it was McGonagall herself holding my hand, not even taking a glance back at me as she continued to drag me deeper into the castle.

We came to a stop at one of the few classrooms that were still intact and she dragged me in before shutting the door tightly behind her. I came to and realised that all of the few teachers were there along with a few parents.

A lot of hushed whispers filled the room as Professor McGonagall tried to calm them down. The room turned quiet after she muttered something that had their shoulders relaxing even if it was only a little bit, but now they all turned to me.

McGonagall cleared her throat before finally addressing me, “(L/N), I’m sure you’re confused as to why we have brought you here,” she paused, stepping toward me before continuing, “but with Harry’s death we have turned to a new plan, a plan given by Dumbledore.”

She touched at her pocket, hinting at the contents in it before she pulled out a piece of parchment that was neatly folded, sealed with bright red wax and the Hogwarts crest. She handed the parchment to me without much hesitation.

I felt confused. Out of all the students in my school, why me? I wasn’t the brightest, and I was definitely not important like a few of my classmates were. I was but a shadow to the rest of the school, yet this was assigned to me of all people.

I tore the red wax with shaky hands and slowly unfolded the paper. The letter left me in awe. Surely they hadn’t expected me to go through with this, right? I had never expected them to send me back in time, nevertheless to kill Voldemort himself. Of course, under the guise of enamouring him.

Again I asked, why me?

Before I could understand what was happening, a potion was handed to me, and I was given strict instructions on consumption by Slughorn. You will not be able to return until the mission is complete.

And before I knew it, I swallowed the potion per Slughorn’s instruction, a letter addressed to the past Dumbledore in hand.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before making my way to the DADA classroom, where McGonagall assured me Dumbledore would be at this hour, whatever hour it was in the past.

The door was ajar so I walked myself in, coming face to face with a slightly more youthful version of my past Headmaster. He glanced up from his work at the sound of someone entering, and he observed me with a curious eye.

I stood silently in the doorway, playing with the letter that was still held tightly in my hands.

“You’re not from here, are you?” His voice broke me out of my daze. He spoke up again after gazing over my confused expression, “This time, perhaps?”

Shock glazed over my face as he simply stared at me, amused.

“H-How did you-“

“You wear a Hogwarts uniform, but not of this era.” His reply was assertive and knowing, “And you seem rather shocked to see me.”

I couldn’t bring it in myself to say, Well, you see you were the headmaster of the school that everyone had idolised, you were loved by everyone, even your worst foes. Oh, and you were killed by one of the people who loved you most!

I simply sighed in defeat before picking up the courage and stepping closer to him until I reached his desk, handing the letter to his hand which was already held out to take it.

He read over the letter, expression barely changing, but it was all in his eyes. Bewilderment, shock, hurt.

Once he had finished reading, he refolded the letter before glancing up at me, “And you’re sure to achieve this? You’re ready to accept the consequences?”

I sighed shakily, pulling at my fingers before replying, “Yes, Professor.”

-

After having been privately sorted, Dumbledore escorted me to the Great Hall where everyone seemed to be eating dinner. Everything looked so, for lack of a better term, old. The Great Hall appeared exactly the same as it did when I first stepped into the large building in my first year.

But my first year is fifty years from now. Fifty years Voldemort would be a ruthless monster. Voldemort- Tom- was in this very room, and I could feel every hair on my body stand at that very thought.

Dumbledore nudged me towards my house table, and I quickly sat down so as not to grab any attention, but I could feel everyone staring, and they have every right to. Why would a seventh year be starting now? Why not start in their first year?

I laughed at the thought. Of course, I had discussed this with Dumbledore, and he had said I should stay under the guise of an exchange student from a school such as Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, and I quickly agreed.

I was to be a distant niece of his who had been living with his great aunt, and I moved with him after her death. He "thought" it to be convenient for the both of us if I attended Hogwarts for my last year.

I snapped to reality when my plate was somehow emptied, and a pair of polished neat black shoes showed up in my peripheral vision. I glanced up at the new face and was met with dark brown, almost black, eyes.

I studied every feature of his face and found that he was dashing, an incredibly pristine handsome face. His pale skin contrasted with his pitch-black hair and highlighted the gold specks that could barely be seen in his dark eyes. As my eyes raked down to his neck, there was a Slytherin tie tied to perfection that lay so elegantly on his freshly ironed white button-down which could be seen under his grey vest which had green accents that complimented the bright hue of his tie. And on his robe, the head boy badge shone a bright hue of gold.

His chest was puffed out and everything about him screamed as if he thought he was superior to everyone in this room.

Before I knew it, I was staring, and the stranger could tell. I turned red at the realisation that he had caught me staring. He cleared his throat before introducing himself, "You're the new seventh year that Dumbledore mentioned," his voice was monotone, sly and low, "he had instructed me to show you around and to your common room, as the head boy, I gladly took this duty."

He spoke with as much confidence as he walked with. He knew he had charm, and he knew how to use it. I simply nodded in reply, not wanting to tell him I knew these halls like the back of my hand.

"Well," he drew out impatiently, turning to leave the bustling hall, "come on then."

I stood up clumsily, "Oh, sorry," before scattering to follow him as he exited the hall.

Once I had caught up to him we mostly walked in silence, occasionally pointing out different parts of the school such as the library, and the various bathrooms. He had shared small histories about the building that I had learnt in my third year but had long forgotten. Once we came to a stop in front of my common room door I awkwardly turned to face him, "By the way," I shuffled on my feet as I tried my best to hold eye contact with the cold but devilishly handsome man, "I'm (L/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."

He stared at me, back straight as ever, not a stray hair in sight, "Pleasure," he paused, leaning down to reach my height, "Riddle. Tom Riddle."

My ears began to ring, my world began to turn; The handsome stranger was the man who killed Harry Potter.

I swallowed back a shaky breath, nodding softly at him, before turning towards the entrance, and stepping into the familiar room. I could feel his eyes bore holes into the back of my head; he obviously read my body language and saw my reaction to his name.

My world continued to spin even after the entrance closed on his dark brown eyes, and suddenly I felt sick and could no longer stomach my dinner.

-

"You must be really good at adapting to your surroundings," Augusta Crouch, my herbology seatmate and self-assigned tour guide, chirped brightly from beside me. She had somehow managed to find out that we had almost all our classes together, "it almost seems as though you know the place better than I-"

I turned confusedly at the sudden end to her normally long rants and turned to the direction that she stared at like a deer in headlights. I caught the gaze of those familiar dark eyes and fought the urge to turn pale at the sight of him. Just the thought of him repulsed me, and somehow, I was supposed to seduce the monster.

He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, directly across from the Transfiguration classroom. He raised an eyebrow as I held his gaze with shielded eyes before standing up properly, back as straight as a ruler, "We have Charms together. Shall I accompany you both?"

Augusta slowly released my arm and I begged Merlin for her to hold on before gesturing towards the opposite direction of Charms, "I am actually on my way to the library, Charms is a soft option in my opinion," I knew she had failed her Charms O.W.L because she had been complaining about it to me earlier, "I'll see you later, (L/n)."

I nodded silently before I met those dark eyes once again. He held out his arm and I forced myself to link mine to his, and so we set off to Charms.

"How exactly was it that you knew we had Charms together but Augusta didn't?" I asked before I could hold my tongue, all muscles in my body were tense whenever I was near him.

"As head boy, I ensure that all students are happy and comfortable." He stated with that charming blank smile that had all the professors swooning.

As soon as we arrived at Charms, I ran out of his arms and situated myself in a seat with a housemate that seemed familiar enough. I sighed to myself as I thought over how ridiculous I have been the past few days I've attended this olden Hogwarts; barely casting a glance to Vold- Tom- but being friendly enough so as not to raise any suspicions. To anyone on the outside, they would assume I was simply playing "hard to get", which was true since I did not want to be "gotten" by this man- boy at this stage- but that was beside the point. I had a mission, and I was sure to complete it.

I bit my lip and decided to suck it up with that determination in mind. I turned to where I assumed Tom would be sitting, found the seat next to him unoccupied, and rushed to sit next to him. He raised an eyebrow at my odd sudden change in behaviour but chose not to comment on it, for which I was grateful. I settled at the table and pulled out the equipment we needed for the class- which Dumbledore picked up for me thankfully- and acted as if I wasn't behaving strangely.

I muddled over what I had to do to grow close with this cold man slowly but surely. Putting on my best frown of confusion halfway through the class, I turned to him, "Tom," he perked up at his name, surprised we were already on a first-name basis but simply raised an eyebrow in my direction, "what exactly does this mean? We weren't taught this material at Beauxbatons."

"Weren't taught one of the most basics of basics in Charms?" He raised an eyebrow at me incredulously, and though I didn't appreciate the passive aggression behind his tone, I ignored it and continued to play dumb and shrugged. He sighed and although I could see he didn't exactly, believe me, he proceeded to explain it to me, and with that, he concluded that he needed much more time than what was left in Charms because he gave me a time and location before I could ask any more questions, claiming "A tutor session will do you some good, (L/n)."

Now the plan was in motion, all I had to do was go along with it.

-

Spending time with Tom hadn't proved to be as difficult as I had assumed. He was pleasant company if you didn't think hard about what he was sure to become- and it was just that. He wasn't Voldemort at this point in time, not yet at least. However, when the occasion came up, I'd see a glimpse of what a true monster Tom could be. Like the time he had ridiculed a third-year for bumping into my side, eyes growing black as if he was taken over by another soul. Or the time he had deducted points from a Hufflepuff second-year for spilling pumpkin juice on his lap; if looks could kill, that poor second-year would be good as dead. Now that I think about it, not a day has gone by in the past five weeks of my stay where Tom wasn't here, next to me.

It was strange, how quickly I had adapted to his presence. Though I would never want to admit it, he was definitely growing on-

"(L/n), aren't you listening to what I'm saying?" Augusta sneered, glancing over at me in irritation, muttering curses under her breath.

I simply sent her a smile of apology, I knew she was growing impatient with my constant daydreams and I was grateful for her short patience but continuing to deal with me, "Sorry, what was that Augusta?"

"Well, you see," Augusta started, getting comfortable in her seat and leaning forward like she was about to share the latest gossip of the moment, which was definitely true from the glint in her eye, "apparently, Golden Head Boy is going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

I raised an eyebrow at her, quite disappointed at the dull gossip, leaning back in my seat to continue eating my breakfast, "And why should that be important to me?"

"Oh come on," Augusta loudly scoffed, quieting down when a few heads snapped in her direction before mumbling under her breath, "you definitely fancy Riddle."

This was my goal, wasn't it? To deceive and convince everyone, including Tom, that I genuinely fancied him.

I simply shrugged at her statement, "What does that have to do with Hogsmeade?"

I continued to play dumb as Augusta rolled her eyes, "Well, he never goes out to Hogsmeade. I'm thinking our broody head boy is going to ask a little lady on a date."

I turned a bright red, something I hadn't realised could happen to me, Augusta grinned nudging my side, head nodding over discreetly toward where I knew Slytherin's table was situated. And now, I could feel it; his stare boring into the side of my cheek as my cheeks turned an unhealthy shade of red as I continued to stare at Augusta, not daring to look towards his burning gaze.

"Don't be stupid," I spat embarrassedly, cheeks slightly cooled down as I reached for my cold glass of pumpkin juice, "you don't know what you're talking about, Gussie. Besides, I'm sure he doesn't fancy me back."

I watched her deflate and grumble in irritation before we both turned back toward our forgotten breakfasts. This was all part of my goal, so why did my stomach churn in guilt at the thought of going on a date with him?

-

I huffed as I raised my bag on my shoulder, I was definitely late. I grumbled as I rounded a corner and bumped into a first-year, muttering an apology before walking as fast as I could in the crowded hall to the library. I thanked Merlin once the doors of the library came into sight and pushed through the sea of students, walking through the maze-like library before coming to a halt before a very irritated Tom who raised an eyebrow at the sight of me, "You're late."

I held back an eye roll, no shit Sherlock, "I'm sorry, Slughorn really knows how to talk doesn't he?"

I sighed in relief as he softened at that, the anger slowly flowing off his shoulders as he got situated in his seat, "He does tend to talk an ear off every once in a while."

It was strange, to have a bond with him. Though, barely a bond at that. I was slowly warming up to him and vice versa. If I didn't think so hard about how he would eventually become a child murderer, he was quite nice company.

Tom was the type of person who could sit in silence and not feel the urge to fill it, a quality I very much appreciated in him. Most of our tutoring sessions were like this, spent in silence with the occasional question every now and then.

We had been meeting for a few weeks now, and it was nearing the end of the first term. I was shocked at how quick the term had gone, it wasn't too different from my time in school, though the generation gap could definitely be felt, it didn't impact my everyday life in this timeline.

I snapped out of my daze, flushing a bright Fuschia, realising I had been staring at Tom a little too long, and he brightened at the obvious fact I was, smirking slightly at my flustered state. I scrambled to the seat across from him, pulling out the parchment containing my unfinished Potions essay prompting me to focus on the essay to distract myself. I heard him chuckle under his breath before seeing him turn back to his essay from the corner of my eye.

Just as I was finishing the introduction to my conclusion, I noticed from the corner of my vision Tom's head perking up as he, what I assumed to be, gained whatever ounce of courage he could grasp. I braced myself internally, already knowing what was coming as I solely focused on the sound of his knee bouncing nervously under the table. It was strange. In the weeks I have known Tom, he never got nervous. Never.

Knowing that he was nervous because of me, made the knot of guilt in my stomach tighter. My head snapped up as he cleared his throat, his way of gaining my attention in all of our study sessions, "Yes, Tom?"

His ears perked up at the sound of his first name, not having yet gotten used to the sound of it being uttered by another student, no matter how close they were. It was always Riddle, and from his reaction, albeit barely anything, he liked hearing it from my lips.

"Tom?" I inquired, growing nervous at his silence. Maybe I had been wrong, he would not be asking me to Hogsmeade. After all, when had Augusta's gossip ever been reliable-

"You know of Hogsmeade, yes?" I smiled at his question, internally giggling like a little girl at how cute he was being.

"Perhaps,"

"Precisely, we shall visit the village this weekend," he paused briefly, "together."

"Are you ordering me around, Riddle?" I jokingly asked, watching as his nerves slowly kicked in and he rushed to his own defence, the walls he had built so high slowly becoming higher, and before he could utter another word I cut in, "Don't fret, Tom. I would love to attend Hogsmeade with you this weekend."

He grumbled at my teasing but softly smiled in victory at my agreeance.

-

I fidgeted with my hands nervously as I waited at the entrance of Hogwarts. I had never been so nervous in my life, not even when I went on a date with Dean Thomas and Merlin, I liked him a lot. I wasn't too sure why I was so nervous about this date. I knew the twist in my stomach wasn't guilt, but instead described by muggles as butterflies, and the thought made me sick. It was now the middle of October, the air was crisper, the leaves were starting to change to a beautiful shade of orange, and my breath could be seen because of how cold it was. Merlin, could Tom get here any faster?

"You came early?" The sudden entrance of Tom's soft voice had caused me to jump, he seemed amused by my reaction, barely squeezing out a grin, "I didn't mean to frighten you, (L/n)."

A major habit I had noticed of Tom was that he hardly ever said the words "I'm sorry" and "thank you". It left a bitter taste in my mouth knowing this, and suddenly the butterflies stopped fluttering in my stomach as reality struck me once again. He is and always will be a monster.

"It's okay, Tom," I said quietly, silently glancing down at my shoes and the fallen orange leaves that littered the ground, "Shall we go then?"

And off we went into the village of Hogsmeade.

-

After our date, if you could even call it that, Tom seemed much more relaxed to be around me. Though, I knew there was a side of him that he had yet to show me. The same side I was to extinguish within him, to remove the darkness and succeed in my mission of saving the very people I loved back in my own time. Tom still had many secrets he had yet confided in me, and I was growing impatient.

As weeks passed by, Tom gradually became more absent in my life, which was a change from spending every day together. He was acting strange and worried me. I sat in my dorm, away from the hustle and bustle of the common room, situated at my desk as I revised my potions essay. Sure, I do not actually have to do the work, but it felt nice to finally be a normal student again. Not having to live in fear of dark wizards, simply studying for the big exams that are to happen at the end of this school year, and not having to worry about my family at home or for my schoolmates. I was safe here.

I was snapped out of my daze of delusion by pecking at my window I glanced up to see a familiar owl, and I was quick to open my window and let the bird in. I hadn't heard from Tom since yesterday's lunch and I was growing worried about his absence. Had he grown suspicious? Did he not wish to pursue me anymore?

I pushed away my fears as I unravelled the scroll Tom had so neatly tied with a silver ribbon.

"Meet me at the astronomy tower, I wish to see you."

A simple sentence had never made me so nervous before. The twist of nerves in my stomach when I had been told of the war could barely compare to the fire that Tom Riddle had just let off in my head. It was past curfew, he knew this. I went over the chances of being caught by the warden and shivered. Maybe tonight he would confess his feelings for you, I shrugged off my thoughts of delusion and quickly moved to change my clothing; I could not let Tom see me in my pyjamas.

As I pulled on a warm jacket and some gloves, winter was heavily kicking in as November came to an end. I sighed as I slowly climbed down the steps that led to the common room and slowly made my way to the exit. I glanced both ways before setting off in the halls, I could not be caught. My pace picked up until I was essentially running to the astronomy tower, desperate to know just why Tom had summoned me so late in the night.

I came to a stop at the top of the stairs leading up to the astronomy tower and quickly found Tom leaning against the railing. I stopped to catch my breath quietly, hoping he hadn't heard my heavy breathing out of embarrassment.

He stood in glorious silence. To this point, I had never seen a beauty that could compare to him, a rose would shy away at the sight. His pale skin glowed under the moonlight of the full moon, cheeks softly kissed by the cold, the pink skin I so desperately wanted to caress, to keep it away from the bite of the winter frost. My mouth stood agape as I soaked in his presence, not wanting to tear my eyes away from the pink that blushed his cheeks. When my eyes dropped to his lips, I almost stumbled over my own feet. Never in the weeks I had been here had I wanted to kiss Tom as much as I had wanted at this moment.

"Tom?" I barely squeaked out as he finally acknowledged my presence. His raven hair bounced softly as his head turned in my direction.

He simply sat down, not yet saying anything as I took that as a cue to join his side. I kept a small distance between us, I knew he didn't really enjoy it when his space was invaded. I ignored the way he glanced at me at that and instead waited for him to speak.

He seemed conflicted, I knew he had to be if he were as absent as he was. He was lost in his head, though his expression had been set in stone, I had never seen eyes so vulnerable. I quietly reached for his hand that sat between us, surprised at how cold they were, resting my hand over his to comfort him in whatever mental battle he seems to be having at this moment.

"What do you wish for the future?" His question surprised me, that was the last thing I expected to leave those lovely red lips.

"I never expected you to dwell on such questions, Tom." And that was the truth. From the start, Tom seemed like a realist, not one to dwell on the what-ifs of the world.

"I don't," he paused, clearly now deep in thought as he slowly entwined our fingers, "as graduation approaches, I think of what my true ambitions are; what I want from this lifetime."

"Oh," and that was all I felt I could say. I didn't know what exactly when wanted my answer to be. Would it change anything? A question I so desperately wished to ask. Would my answer save the lives lost?

I closed my eyes, reminding myself this was Tom. My Tom.

My eyes opened and the darkness of Hogwarts momentarily consumed me as I zeroed in on those dark orbs. Tom consumed me as he held my gaze for what felt like an eternity. Swimming through pools of tar, drowning in the thick substance; suffocating, slow but deep and passionate. His eyes reflected his soul almost perfectly; dull, dark, naive.

To remember the humanity in Tom feels almost inhumane, yet here I was under the November moonlight, drowning in the deep passionate pools of Tom Riddle.

"I'm not too sure," my voice managed to conjure a sentence, my brain a mess yet my heart speaking, "but, this is nice."

Tom seemingly softened at that, not so much his body; his shoulders remained frigid, his knees tight and his knuckles white. But his eyes, his eyes spoke his deepest fears, his deepest desires. The hardness they once held melted slightly at that moment, and that feeling lingered in my stomach as I continued to drown in his gaze. He hummed, in what I think was agreement, as we sat in silence soaking in the moment, "This is nice."

-

Winter had completely settled across the horizon of the Highlands as the full force of the unsightliness of winter came across Hogwarts harshly. The land was painted white, almost as if a thick layer of wool had settled across the whole of the school grounds. Winter was my favourite season in the school year; shorter days called for longer nights of sleep, and colder days called for warm teas around the fireplace.

Winter also brought about a certain coldness, a darkness that consumed the lands, the songbird no longer being heard across the campus as you roamed, only the echo of your footsteps sounded. That was all I heard now, my footsteps echoing as if I was followed, but I knew the sound all too well, the scrape of my sole against the ground, the uneven tempo of my feet as they pattered across the halls. I hated the silence brought about the halls, especially at night.

Meeting with Dumbledore, especially under my circumstances, was not uncommon for me for the duration of this school year, but as winter break fast approached, a plan of sorts would need to be compiled. Where I'd be staying for the break, and further details according to Dumbledore.

As I came to a stop outside of the Professor's office, I braced myself before knocking thrice. The door swung open as Dumbledore stood at the opposite wall of the room, "Good evening, (L/n)."

"Professor," I acknowledged as I walked before his large desk, taking note of the door shutting on its own behind me. Well, I thought, not on its own.

"I assume you are curious as to why I called for you at this hour,"

"I can't say I'd be surprised Professor," he smiled softly at the jest, gesturing to a chair behind me as he sat in his own.

"I was not wrong," referring to his letter from the future laying upward on the desk, "your skills of Occlumency are prodigious, as you must see as is Tom with his Legilimency."

"The most talented I've encountered, sir." My reply sounded almost empty, dull. I understood now why Dumbledore of the future was so insistent on my participation, and I see why Dumbledore of the past too trusted within my ability. Not often you hear of a brain impenetrable by that of Lord Voldemort.

"I see your efforts with Tom seem to be fruitful," he said, almost carefully, "your efforts are not wasted, especially for Riddle. After all, it is okay to feel, you see."

I hardened at his words, my shoulders growing rigid as he spoke, "It is my mission after all, Sir."

"(Y/n), that is not-"

"Do not worry, sir. This mission will not be one I will fail for you; saving my friends, my family is of utmost importance."

He paused, watching me almost methodically as he pondered for a beat. He held my gaze, watching silently before letting out a hum, "I see, as you were, (L/n)."

My stomach turned as I returned to my bed for the night, most definitely from guilt, I just didn't know why I felt guilty. For Tom? My friends in the future? My family? Dumbledore?

I felt helpless, with everyone's future in my hands, the lines of rationality and irrationality blurred as my reality began to distort, and yet all I could think about was Tom. What is it I want from this lifetime?

His question rang in my head, from the moment I left the office, to the moment I laid to rest.

-

Entertaining the mere thought of liking Tom had slowly become an easier task. Growing comfortable with the idea, albeit not ideal, was a part of the process, of falling with Tom. Falling for someone is similar to that of a trust fall, the other would be there to catch you, and to trust the other you must catch them when they fall. To fall for someone is to trust them with your soul and wholeheartedly feel it is reciprocated. And so, even if just for a little, I'll let myself fall for Tom; ulterior motives or not.

Falling for Tom smells like pine trees, feels like a warm summer breeze, and the naivety that once glimmered in his eyes has saturated me. Falling for Tom sounds like rough waves slamming against a cliffside, the seaspray gently caressing my face as he washes over me.

Is this what I want from my lifetime? I'm unsure.

The Black Lake is vast and dark, as though it could swallow the sun whole, leaving us in the darkness. The surface is disturbed, one, two, three, "Bugger!"

My head snaps to Tom as he reaches for another flat stone. He catches my gaze and quickly raises an eyebrow as he readies his arm to skip a stone yet again, "Amazed?"

I bit my tongue and held a smile at his sarcasm, "Your talents never cease to baffle me, Tom."

His ears wiggled at the sound of his name, and I thought of a conversation I once had with Dumbledore, "Is it true no one calls you that?"

His brows furrowed and his head tilted softly to the side, not understanding my question. Seeing his confusion, I ask again, "Tom, I mean. Does no one call you that?"

As my eyes fell over him once again, I noticed he was not looking beyond the horizon, everywhere but me it seemed. In his lowest voice, "Well," he paused, clearing his throat so his voice came out clearly; assertive, "it's because I don't let anyone call me that. It's quite simple."

I paused for a beat as I pondered, "You let me."

Not so much a question, more so a comfortable statement. I watched as his shoulders shrugged softly in the corner of my eye. I knew why others hadn't called him Tom, he had no clue of my knowledge, but the fact hurt, knowing what he not only thought of his father, but himself.

"You never asked," my stomach turned at that. Had I not asked? I felt almost foolish, foolish at my comfortableness, at my relaxed state around him, I hadn't yet asked-

"You didn't-" he stopped, it was the first I had ever heard any type of fumble fall from his lips, "You didn't need to," he looked almost frantic, frantic for Tom that is, "ask, that is."

I smiled as his eyes met mine for the first time, and I was drowning again.

-

As I had returned to my dorm for the night, a neat scroll was waiting for me at my window, neatly tied with a silver bow, it was easy to guess who it was from, and even easier to guess the contents. I barely had time to open the note before I threw on my shoes and headed off into the dark comfort of the halls of Hogwarts.

The astronomy tower creaked louder than the Whomping Willow as I approached, and the harsh winds pinched at my cheeks and nose, I could barely imagine how cold Tom would have been. He had confided after a few visits here that he would often wait here for hours as he couldn't really predict what time I'd return to my dorm. With that thought in tow, I ran up the stairs to the best of my ability.

Tom stood beneath the moonlight in all his glory. Although, a dark cloud hung over him. Many would simply think of it as evil, the evil that is so inherently entrenched in him, it could be anything but. This darkness, was a darkness that consumed him, the vast darkness that would consume the light that shone from him.

As I reached the summit, Tom glanced over at the sound of my sole scuffing against the top step, my staggered breaths filling the room. He visibly relaxed at the sight of me, probably having thought I was danger.

"You're here," yet again, another statement. Most of our nights started similarly; simple. That was one of my favourite traits of Tom, his simplicity was a naivety that has been of great solace; a contrast from the life of constant fear and spontaneity I once lived. I hummed before taking my place next to him as I had many nights before.

We had come to talk, we always do. Tonight felt different, the burden he seemed to carry with himself every day seemed to feel like the world on his shoulders at this very moment. He looked fragile, vulnerable almost. His shoulders sunk in like a small puppy, abandoned with no care. After a long silence, Tom spoke out in a loud voice, as if to convince himself he was confident rather than me, "My name,"

"It belongs to my father," he paused for a while as if waiting for questions, but I already knew all the answers, I knew who he was.

"My father," his voice shook as he took a ragged breath, "was a muggleborn. That is why I despise my name. It was from his filthy bloodline of which I obtained that name."

"Tom.." My voice cracked softly as his eyes turned black, he looked as if he was almost in a frenzy, his hair out of place, his eyes frantic, saliva swinging from his red lips.

"My weak, pathetic mother named me after him." His eyes were now red as he refused to meet my gaze, "Not even he wanted me. Yet, here I am," his breaths accelerated, "a spitting image of him, of her stupidity. Her naivety."

"Strangely enough," now he met my eyes. Tom has the fiercest of eyes I've ever to lay eyes upon, and to see those very orbs shattered. It is a pain indescribable, "I've grown to like it. Used to hearing it. I would want to hear you say it as often as I could."

I was unsure of what he was asking, whether it was my hand, my friendship, my companionship. But none of that mattered to me, not anymore. I reached for his hand that settled between us, "Okay, Tom."

His demeanour changed in that of an instant, his hand moved from under mine as he turned to me now fully, "I wish to tell you something."

It was only now that he faced me that I saw how weak he looked. I instinctively reached for his cheek, his cheekbone protruding as I brushed my thumb across it. My mouth opened and closed as I searched for the words.

"I have been strongly thinking about that conversation we had," he paused, looking into my eyes for recognition and continuing once he had seen it, "about the future."

"I suppose, you have heard of the rumours," for a moment, I wish I didn't, I wish I could play stupid and be betrayed by Tom, be shocked by the revelation of his darkness. Darkness I know all too well, "I am here to say they are true."

It seemed as if the wind had stopped and the howling of the tower had been silenced, a pin could drop.

"All of them. Myrtle, Hagrid- All of it." Here Tom was confessing his sins before me, searching for relief, for atonement for the hurt he had caused. Sitting before me, kneeling before me with his big, dark, naive eyes.

"Even," he paused as he took a deep breath, "those of the horcrux. Horcruxes, there are two. Were two."

His eyes met mine again, and I was drowning all again, though this time felt real. The water was in my lungs suffocating me, and I was running out of time, "I would give it all up- I have given it all up. That is not what I want to do with my lifetime. I'm not really too sure what I want to do,"

He took my hand in his this time, clutching my right hand in both as if I were as gentle as a feather, as fragile as glass.

My left hand gripped tightly at my wand as I brushed my thumb along the back of his hand, unable to meet his gaze, tears obscuring my vision. This is all too much.

"It seems that I may have started to," my ears started to ring, "possess certain feelings for you, (L/n)." My heart was thumping in my ears at the announcement. It is too much, no.

“When we had first met," he paused, calculating his every word as I gripped my wand tightly in my hand, "why was it that you flinched at the mention of my name? You wouldn't a clue as to who I am, wouldn't you (Y/n)?"

His question caused me to tense up, my grip somehow getting tighter on my wand I felt as if it may break in my grasp, “You cannot do this to me!”

His booming voice caused me to flinch, jumping back at the sudden loud voice, “Tom-“

“No. You don’t understand, (Y/n). I gave up the dark path that was destined for me, to love you, to ensure that I could be the perfect man you wanted- no, needed. I haven’t the heart to believe that you cannot do the same for me.” His words tugged at the knot of guilt deep in my stomach, clawing at the knot in order to untie it, for me to succumb to his wishes and stay here, to not fulfil my mission, to love him to my fullest ability.

"I sacrificed everything for you.." Tom choked, his voice barely above a whisper, and his tone ate away at the guilt in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed down the guilt that threatened to flood out, "I destroyed myself for you."

His shout made me flinch. The betrayal, the pain in his voice almost made me regret it all. He had trusted me. Trusted me enough to destroy the few Horcruxes he had which he made and destroyed with his own hands. He had let his walls down and let me into his heart, his bed, his arms.

I couldn't say a word, I knew if I opened my mouth I'd regret what I was going to do, "You're a monster. A cruel monster. I should've seen through your facade, under your skin. And, like a fool, I thought I was deserving of your love."

It was never a facade, I so badly wanted to yell at his red eyes. His weak state made this feel so easy. I never wanted to admit it to myself, but I loved Tom Riddle. I loved his smile, his wittiness, his charm. If so for a moment, I'd lay my guard down. I peeled back the tall wall I had built, brick by brick. If even for a moment, I wish for Tom to feel my love. To be loved to the fullest of my potential, the full force of the lifetime love I harboured for him. For Tom, my Tom.

But now, that love amounted to nothing.

And so I raised my wand and muttered that sickly unforgivable curse.

[rarepears]

Hmmm, would a Tom Riddle who's been adopted and raised by a (time traveling) Percy Weasley be more incentivized to stick to politics rather than actual fighting and insurgency in order to push the changes he wanted to see in the Wizarding World?

(Imagine Secretary to the Minister Tom Riddle who grew up seeing firsthand the power and influence his adoptive dad wielded in politics by being able to control and manipulate the Minister with few people being the wiser.)