harry potter & tom riddle | voldemort

The tattered memory of Tom Riddle sat on the porch of number four Privet Drive, pressing desperately into the horcrux housed in Harry Potter’s forehead. or In which Harry Potter is unceremoniously thrust back in time and forced to deal with Voldemort whining inside his head. At least Death had the decency to apologize.

Harry Potter, the forgotten twin brother of Boy-Who-Lived, was beaten to death by his abusive Muggle relatives. But his Magic disagreed with dying so early, so it dug deep into his soul and brought out something that will help him survive. Who will take him from his destined cruel Fate? Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort has fallen into the deepest voids because of his addiction to Dark Arts. So when his Prophesied equal and mortal enemy, who happens to be the keeper of his soul piece, comes to his aid and offers him another chance by helping him recover from the insanity, hence filling out the void that has been created by cruel merciless fate, what he will do? Can he refuse the little green-eyed chaos maker who declared himself as his son in everything but blood? James "Jim" Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, and the Wizarding World's child celebrity. But it's not a life he wants for himself. There is something else he wants with all his heart, something that he would exchange all his fame and glory for in a beat. What is it that he desires the most in the World? * Previously known as The Dark Prince: Rebirth*All characters belong to JK Rowling. Tags may change as the story progresses.

When the enigma named Harry Potter stumbled into his world, Tom couldn't have been more unimpressed. That’s not about to stop Harry from adopting him and changing both of their lives. Harry's mission to stop a future Dark Lord’s murder spree and return to a better future and Tom’s pursuit to rule the world and achieve immortality inevitably clashes, and they’ll end up changing the world together. Hopefully, in Harry’s favor. ∞∞∞ Tom raised his head from his book as a distant feeling crept upon him. As if the air was crackling, pulsing with the chimes of a clock tower somewhere, signaling the start of—of something new, he didn't know. The thrum of energy surged in him, an urgency rising that moved him to leave his room, to peer out the age-tinted-yellow window at the end of the hall where he could see the front gates of the orphanage. A blurred shape of a man stumbled onto the threshold with the grace of a drunkard.