2Hey Guys! Here's my new story. I hope you like it! I do not own Harry potter however much I would like to.
Chapter 1:
I hate floo, apparation, and portkeying, so why should traveling through time be any different? It was very different apparently, because time travel was much, much, much, much worse. I'm not sure I can emphasize that enough, because right now I feel like Buckbeak and some buddies of his trampled me before handing me off to Voldemort, and then Voldemort gave me to the dementors. Did you know that traveling through time actually forces you to relive your entire life in the space of a few minutes?
And now I look like I'm five freaking years old on the streets of lower London, completely unable to move. The best part though? I'm pretty sure I'm in 1937- four years before Tom Marvolo Riddle went to Hogwarts. Also, World War II is about to start, and I have four years before I go to Hogwarts, and only two until World War II breaks out. Just bloody wonderful. If I ever see Snape again, I'm going to stuff all of his potions down his throat. Actually, where was Snape? He was supposed to come and adopt Riddle to keep the child from turning evil.
My question is why the hell I am seven years old? Yes, I am aware I just said a minute ago that I looked like a five year old, but hey, I was starved and abused as a child. Of course I'm a bit behind the growth curve. Anyway, since I've regressed to the exact state I was in when I was this age in the first place, I can definitively say its Christmas and I am seven and a half.
The potion Snape brewed to send us both back in time, and therefore save my life, was ONLY supposed to send me back in time, not make me younger. Oh yes, the potion master would be getting a piece of my mind if I didn't die here, which unfortunately probably meant the potion master was going to live a long, healthy life. I knew the human body's limits better than anyone, including the healers of Saint Mungos. I had been to the extremes of the human body's ability to survive, and I knew that my seven year old body would be lucky to survive another two hours, let alone the night. If I survived the night, it could only be attributed to a christmas miracle.
Or...
"Oy! Damon! I think that's a body!"
"So summon the police then, moron. Corpses aint nothin' new round here."
I tried to speak, wanting desperately to draw attention to my self. I had survived too much to not survive because of one freaking cold night. Making audible noise though turned out to be just as impossible as movement. In other words, for all intents and purposes, I was a breathing corpse that would soon not be breathing.
"It's a kid, Damon. What if he's still alive?"
"It's the end of december. If he's alive, I'll eat my shoe, but if you need to satisfy your need to do something nice for christmas, go check if the kid's alive."
Harry could hear feet crunching through the layer of snow, coming towards him. He felt, rather than saw, the hand touch his neck. The fingers felt like fire against Harry's frozen skin.
"He's alive!" the man who Harry had heard approach said in shock. Actually, now that he thought about it, the voice sounded vaguely familiar. Where did I know it from? "Hey kid, can you hear me?"
Yes, perfectly, thanks, but unfortunately, I can't answer you at all. Care to get me out of here before I am a frozen corpse?
"I'm going to get you some help. Just hold on." He picked me up, and I wanted to scream from the sharp pain that ripped through my body, but no sound made it past my frozen vocal chords. "Damon, I'm going to apparate to Saint Mungos with him. Can you open the inn for me?"
I didn't hear Damon respond, but the next thing I knew I was being apparated out of the alley and I felt the nasty feeling of being squeezed through a narrow tube. I was pretty sure I was going to throw up, which would be very bad with my inability to move. I'd end up dying from choking on my own vomit of all things. Ugh.
"I found this boy out in the snow. He's still alive. I think he's dying."
Why yes, I am. So kind of you to notice, random citizen. Now, medical attention would be great. In fact, the sooner the better. While your at it, slip me a sleeping draught and put me out of my bloody misery for a few hours, please and thank you.
I was going to kill that little brat when I finally found him. I couldn't have been out for more than an hour and yet there was no sign of the little miscreant. I would be damned if I would search the 1940's for his ungrateful hide. Next time I would just leave him in the Dark Lord's clutches. I have no desire to take in the six year old Tom Riddle. The boy was dangerous. That's why Potter was supposed to be here. If I could give the boy no other credit, he could hold off Tom Riddle better even than Dumbledore could.
Stupid Potters. I hauled myself up, groaning at the stiffness in my muscles. Traveling through years of time was not like using a time turner. I felt like I was going to be sick at any moment, and my muscles were frozen from being left in the snow. Potter was no doubt in perfect condition, the stupid brat. A flick of my wand dried my damp clothes, and another wave and much of the stiffness in my muscles lessened.
Now to go find Tom Marvolo Riddle, half blood extremist. Just bloody brilliant. Oh well, the orphanage shouldn't be far, and the boy was still very young. I would be able to handle him easily enough hopefully, and Potter would doubtless reappear about the same time as he arrived at the orphanage, most likely just in time to screw something up.
Oh well, it would be a good distraction to keep me from dwelling on all of the memories I had been forced to relive. Another advantage Potter had- a rosy childhood. On second thought, maybe I don't want the brat to catch up to me...
I walked into the orphanage.
Why does no one like me? I haven't done anything to them, but even the adults think I'm a demon. I choked on a small sob as Mrs. Cole yelled at me for something Ray Turner had done. I didn't even know what I was being accused of this time. I didn't bother to try and defend myself. She always called me a liar and got even more mad when I tried.
There was a knock on the door, cutting Mrs. Cole's rant off immediately, much to my relief. I pulled my knees up to my chest, knowing that she would resume the yelling as soon as she finished dealing with the person on the other side of the door.
"Hello, I am here to take a child by the name of Tom Riddle."
My eyes widened in disbelief, before I squeezed them tightly shut. Nothing good ever actually happened. It was just a trick. A really, really mean trick.
"Tom Riddle? Are you with the police? Did he hurt someone?"
"No. What has he done that would warrant such an accusation?"
"Well," She started listing various strange things, and then several cruel things that had happened around the orphanage. She prattled on before coming to the end of her list. "I always said he was a demon child."
"That is quite enough, Ma'am. I will be taking the boy this instant! A man with a hooked nose and sallow skin came into the room, and saw my hunched form. He stopped where he was and knelt down to my level. "Hello. Are you Tom?"
I nodded timidly.
"Would you like to come home with me? I'm staying in an inn right now, but I am about to purchase a house in a really cool town. Would you like to help me pick one out?"
I searched for any sign that he was lying but I found nothing. He was being serious from what I could tell. "You'll take me in?"
The man nodded. "My name is Severus Snape and there is nothing I would like more than to raise you."
Before I realized what I was doing, I had lunged across the room and was hugging the man. "Thank you," I whispered in his ear.
"Your welcome child."
There's the first Chapter. What do you think? Please review otherwise my spirit will waver. Did you like it? is my story description terrible? All reviews are welcome, although I prefer constructive criticism rather than straight criticism! Happy Break!