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~chapter 1~

The Little Hangleton cemetery was immersed in an unreal silence, illuminated only by the moon that made the ancient tombstones and statues eroded by time stand out. The tall grass swayed slowly in the night wind. Harry Potter was tied to a statue of an angel with magic ropes that tightened around his chest and arms, while the Petrify Totalus cast by Snape prevented him from moving. He could breathe, see, and think, but his body had become a prison.

In front of him, the large cauldron continued to boil. Black foam and green sparks rose from the surface of the liquid as if something were trying to emerge from the depths of a nightmare. And indeed it did emerge. First, two pale hands appeared, with long, thin fingers. Then the arms, the torso, and finally the face. That face that Harry had seen in dreams, memories, and visions for years. Lord Voldemort rose from the cauldron like a newborn creature and took a deep breath of the night air.

His red eyes slowly opened and rested on the world around him. For a few moments, he seemed to simply savor the fact that he was alive. Then his gaze met Harry's. A cruel smile spread across his face.

"Harry Potter."

Those words cut through the cemetery like a knife. Harry desperately tried to move, but he was completely helpless.

Voldemort slowly advanced toward him. "Finally."

Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest. Cedric was dead. No one knew where he was. No one would arrive in time. After all the years spent escaping death, this was how it would end.

Then a voice crept into his mind.

"Not yet"

Harry winced. It wasn't an external voice, but a voice inside him.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. A faint laugh hissed through his thoughts.

"You really don't recognize me?"

Immediately, a black diary came to mind, a memory preserved between enchanted pages. A young man with dark eyes and a charming smile. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"You're dead" The boy who survived thought.

"A part of me, perhaps. But not all of me"

Harry felt a wave of disgust. "Get out of my head."

"I can't" Tom replied. "And in any case, you should be more worried about him."

Harry didn't need to ask who that "him" was. Voldemort was now just a few meters away.

"What do you want?" Harry askedm

"To help you" Tom replied.

Harry would have laughed if he could. "You?"

"You're paralyzed, tied up, and unarmed. In a few seconds, you'll be dead. I'd say you need all the help you can get"

It was hard to argue with that logic.

"Why should I trust you?" Harry asked.

Tom was silent for a few seconds.
"Because he's not me"

Harry didn't answer.

"What you see in front of you is what I became after breaking my soul over and over again. I am what was left before madness devoured everything"

"And that's supposed to reassure me?" Harry asked.

"No" replied Tom. "But it should convince you that I have reason to stop him"

Harry looked at Voldemort. It was hard to believe that a younger version of him could consider him anything other than himself. Yet the voice did not seem to lie.