Past Reflections, Future Promises

Disclaimer: Much as it pains me to say it, I don’t own Harry Potter. Let us all bow down to J.K Rowling, who actually does. Lucky duck.

A/N: Although this is not a song-fic, it was inspired by the song "Someday" by Nickleback. This chapter takes place when Tom Riddle was still at Hogwarts, around the time of the scene in COS when Harry views the memory in the diary. Although the movie had Riddle talking to Dumbledore on the stairwell, in the book the conversation was with Dippet.

Past Reflections, Future Promises

Tom Riddle swept down the hallways of Hogwarts after his meeting with Headmaster Dippet, thoughts crashing through his mind. His hopes of staying at Hogwarts over the summer had been crushed, all because everyone was scared from the recent attacks. Dippet’s words echoed back at him. ‘Special circumstances might have been made for you, but under current circumstances…’. He scoffed. What current circumstances? A few Muggleborns had been attacked, so what? He had been doing the school a favor, really. Tom firmly believed that magic should be left to the capable, the privileged. Hogwarts would be better off without those half-blood nitwits crowding the hallways, stumbling through lessons, slowing everything down

The worst part was that Tom himself was a half-blood.

Perhaps that was why he hated them so. He was a perfect example of how a Muggleborn should act; you couldn’t tell him apart from pureblood wizards in lessons. But the others, they were what set a bad name for Muggleborns. The ridiculous oafs couldn’t perform a levitating charm properly if their life depended on it.

What made matters worse, was that not only was he a half-blood, but also a half-blood in Slytherin. Tom felt his blood begin to boil at the thought of his housemates. Each day he was tormented and ridiculed for what he was, but none of them could even dream of having the power he had. He was the heir of Slytherin, the one controlling the basilisk and attacking Mudbloods right under their bloody noses. And they had no idea it was him doing it.

Except for maybe that Muggle-loving professor, Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who always watched him in that annoyingly close way that said that he knew that Tom was doing something. But he still didn’t know what. None of them did. And he was going to keep doing it, keep attacking and hopefully killing all those he considered inferior.

Tom knew the one question people would ask once they found out it was him. Why? Why was he targeting Muggles and Mudbloods? What set them apart?

The answer was quite simple. He hated them, hated them with a passion. He had been pushed around for too long, by them and because of them. It was because of his filthy Muggle father that he was constantly ridiculed at school. The Muggles at the orphanage were horrible, demanding, and obnoxious beasts that made him wonder why the wizarding world hadn’t attempted genocide of them all before.

And it wasn’t just Muggles and Mudbloods he hated. No, he hated anyone, like Dumbledore, who sympathized with them. Muggle-lovers were just pathetic, annoyingly stupid people who couldn’t see how inferior Muggles were, but instead found them interesting. Yet there are those even more despised than the mudbloods; half-breeds. They were even worse because they weren’t even fully human. Like that fool Hagrid. The half-giant was oaf who didn’t know which end of a wand to cast with. There was only two things Hagrid was good for: chasing after wild animals and for what Tom planned to make him, a target of blame for the attacks that had been going on.

It pained Tom to give someone else the credit of attacking the Mudbloods but he was killing two birds with one stone. He was finally getting rid of the idiot and giving someone a scapegoat to blame.

Once Hagrid was kicked out of Hogwarts, Tom knew he’d have to stop the attacks, but it was only another year until he graduated, and after that… the possibilities were endless. He could get rid of his Muggle fathers last name and make a new one. He already had it picked out: Voldemort. It was a name he knew that would someday strike fear into the hearts of wizards and witches everywhere. Then, with that new identity, he could gather followers who believed the same things he did: that Muggles and Mudbloods were worthless wastes of space.

Tom grinned, a fierce, evil grin, as he approached the dungeon where he knew Hagrid would soon be. Time to begin the first part of his plan. Muggles had pushed him around his whole life. Now it was his turn to push them around. He would show them all, all those who had laughed and ridiculed him, that he was superior to all of them, that he was better than they were. He wanted to punish the world that had abandoned and ignored him. They had turned their backs on him. Now he would show them just how sweet revenge could be.

Chapter Two: Missed Signs

A copy of the Daily Prophet lay on the desk, its headline reading the same as it had the same for months.

"DARK MARK APPEARS OVER DEVON: 6 MUGGLES DEAD"

The attacks were nothing new. They had been going on for almost a year. Muggles around Europe were being attacked and murdered by Death Eaters, the loyal followers of Voldemort.

Otherwise known as Tom Riddle.

Oh, he knew that Voldemort was indeed Tom, even if most didn’t. Those others that did know looked back on the quiet Slytherin boy and wondered how such a seemingly polite and well-mannered boy had turned into such a madman.

Whenever Dumbledore reflected on the child Tom had once been, he didn’t wonder at the seemingly radical changes that had occurred in Tom. He wondered how he could have missed the signs that had led up to this.

For there had indeed been signs.

Dumbledore had always thought that the ‘revelation’ that Hagrid was the one responsible for opening the Chambre of Secrets and attacking Muggleborns was both ludicrous and suspicious. The mere idea of Hagrid hurting anyone was impossible; the current gamekeeper wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a person. It was also too coincidental that only hours after voicing the idea of catching the one responsible for the attacks, Tom turned in Hagrid. At the time, Dumbledore hadn’t believed that it had been Tom opening the Chamber, but now…

Now he knew the truth. And he wondered how he could have missed what Tom was becoming.

He had known that Tom was unhappy at the Muggle orphanage he was forced to stay at each summer. Now he knew that staying there had only intensified his hatred of Muggles.

He had known about the meetings at night in the empty 3^rd floor classroom. At the time, he had dismissed it as simply a club, a gathering of friends. Now he knew that they had been meetings of future Death-Eaters and their leader. They had plotted, schemed, and planned their attacks on Muggles, preparing to send their world into chaos and terror. And they had succeeded. They had perfected their plans, gathered together, and struck the wizarding world like a hammer.

It was too late to do anything, only to watch as their world was slowly being destroyed, with no idea how to stop it.

Husbands were losing wives, wives were losing husbands, children were losing parents, sisters, and brothers. All because no one had noticed as a young Slytherin had evolved from Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort. Now they had to live with what they had unknowingly created. For they had indeed created Voldemort. Even if they had not made him what he was, they had not stopped him, or helped him. There had been signs, small cries for help, but they had been ignored.

Mistakes had been made.

Those mistakes had plunged the wizarding world into darkness. A few careless actions had changed a young boy forever and made him a madman. A few signs had been missed, and now the world was paying for it. The story that had been writing during those years was finished, and its ending was like a horror story. He wished he could go back and rewrite the past.

Unfortunately, the past was the past, and now Dumbledore had to work on the future.

Except he didn’t know what their future was.

A/N: This chapter takes place after the incident in Dumbledore’s office at the end of 5^th Year, right after Sirius died.

Chapter Three: It Happened Again

As the door closed after Harry, Dumbledore sighed and leaned his head on his hand. The combination of Sirius’ death and Harry’s outpouring of anger had left him feeling drained and tired. Although he could understand Harry’s anger, it hadn’t hurt him any less.

He knew that he should have told Harry about the prophecy sooner. His goal had been to protect Harry, but what he hadn’t realized was that Harry didn’t really need protecting. Keeping the prophecy a secret had been more for his sake than Harry’s.

Now, Harry’s trust in him had been destroyed; he didn’t know when, if ever, he would get it back. Once again, a series of actions and mistakes had destroyed something. This time, the victim was the relationship between the Headmaster and the boy he had come to view as a kind of grandson.

When Lily and James had gone into hiding, he had sworn that he would watch over their son if anything happened to them. But what had he done? He had sent him to live with relatives that hated him, let him go up against a maniac with little or no training, and kept secrets from him. All these things had been done, or so Dumbledore had believed, for Harry’s own good. He had been sent to the Dursley’s because of the blood protection he received there. He had been allowed to battle with Voldemort as preparation for the final battle. Secrets had been kept in order to protect him.

But each of those things he had done for Harry had somehow backfired. The Dursley’s had tormented him for years, and still did each summer. Several times, he had nearly been killed when he fought Voldemort. And now, Harry was furious at the Headmaster for withholding the contents of the prophecy for this long.

He had sworn long ago that he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to Harry as had happened to Tom. He wouldn’t let Harry become so disillusioned and hate-filled that he turned on the world. Of course, he firmly believed that Harry would never do such a thing, but then, people hadn‘t believed Tom capable of it either. He had promised himself that he would always be there for Harry, that he would do what was best for him.

Even though Harry’s trust in him was destroyed, he hoped that someday it would be restored. The bump in the road could be smoothed. Somehow, Dumbledore knew he would fix things with Harry.

The only problem was, he didn’t know how.

Chapter Four: Lifelines

As Albus Dumbledore gazed out the window, he could hear snatches of laughter from the children outside. Now that end-of-term exams were over and summer was drawing near, stress and anxiety had given way to happiness and laughter.

His gaze was drawn to one group in particular. A trio of sixth years was sitting near the lake, laughing and talking. Harry, Hermione, and Ron, still together at the end of another year. They were all whole and happy. Even Harry. He glanced again at the black-haired boy. Especially Harry, it seemed.

The changes seen in Harry from the end of last year was nothing short of amazing. Gone was the angry, sullen boy of last year, replaced with a more upbeat and cheerful one. Yes, there were still incidents where Harry would become quiet and moody, but he had his friends to pull him through.

If it wasn’t for his friends, Dumbledore didn’t know where Harry would be. Or more accurately, he didn’t want to consider where Harry would be, because he knew that Harry would could have become exactly like the madman who terrorized their world.

There were too many similarities between Tom and Harry to ignore. Both had lost their parents at an early age and had grown up in the Muggle world, largely neglected and ignored. Both were ostracized at Hogwarts. Each had the unique ability of being a Parseltongue. They were both determined and outspoken.

But there was one significant difference between the two, which had changed everything.

Friendship. Bravery. Harry Potter had them, Tom Riddle didn’t. One had no one to fall back on or to depend on, the other had friends who were always there and refused to give up. Harry’s friends had stayed with him through the dark time after Sirius’ death, when he tried to push them away. They would have none of it, persisting until he gave in. Whenever he got depressed or disheartened, they were there to pull him back up.

Without his friends, Harry would have fallen into a dark pit of despair, becoming more and more like the person he was supposed to defeat. He would have gotten wrapped up in the hardships of his life instead of seeing the good.

Love had saved his life, and friendship had helped enrich and continue it.

It still amazed Dumbledore how something so simple as friendship could be so strong and so vital. Friendship had to power to heal, while a lack of it had the power to destroy. Harry and Tom were proof of that.

As he watched the trio get up, still laughing, and turn back towards the castle, he felt sure for the first time that things would turn out all right. Not immediately, but soon.

The looks on their faces were proof enough.