All I Ever Wanted Was the World

Chapter 7

Harry woke up, his vision blurry as he heaved himself up onto his elbows. Spotting his glasses, he picked them up and was completely joyed to find that he was somehow...not in the cell he had been in... now he was in...in the Leaky Cauldron?
He couldn't remember recall what happened, and he raised a hand to his head to find blood dripping from himself.
It was then he realized... there was someone else there with him.
... Tom Riddle?
This wasn't the same wispy-looking Tom Riddle.
He was very much solid and looking straight-on at Harry, looking just a tad older than he had in the diary.
He had the deep brown eyes and wavy, black hair that Harry remembered, with a single tuft that fell perfectly on his forehead.

Harry, soon realizing he could possibly die, immediately attempted to get up before he got dizzy and decided the floor was his best bet.
No longer propped onto his elbows, Harry sat up and scooted back as far as he could get from the towering figure of a now younger version of his enemy.

"What-" Harry started with his dry throat, ignoring the temptation to rub his eyes. He reached for the wand in his back pocket before his memory came back to him, hitting him like a brick.
He remembered the burning that had engulfed his entire body, the blood that he had drawn from his lips, the tears that had slid down his cheeks, and the muffled screaming that had been torn from his throat from the torture.
He remembered the flash of light just before he had awoken.
He remembered the pale shocked face that had resided behind the Dark Lord.

How in the world had that all happened in a matter of a minute?

He felt the world spin and heaved as bile rose up his throat, and he breathed hard when nothing came.

"Tom Riddle," Harry whispered with wide, green eyes, his brows knitting together as he crawled away from the other, who, seemingly, wasn't at all fazed.

"Tom Riddle? I assume you already know of me, I dare say." The young man said bluntly, watching Harry struggle to get away.
"How are you even here? You're supposed to be-" Harry drew his wand, which had suddenly decided to make its appearance, and pointed it at the other boy.

"I advise you to put that down, I'm still older and would easily be able to come out as the winner of the duel. Besides, I'm the one who retrieved your wand for you." Riddle said smoothly, looking unbothered by the turn of events as he rummaged through luggage that lay on the bed behind him.

Harry hesitated.
He was good at defending himself and fighting... He'd managed to teach loads of his own friends at Hogwarts.

Was this teenage Voldemort better than him during this time? The Tom that came from the diary had been clever, but he wasn't an absolute genius. In the end, after eyeing the other very warily, Harry decided he would not risk anything even more than he already had.

Shakily getting to his feet, Harry placed a hand on the structure beside him and stood, slowly dropping the arm that held his wand.
Leaning against the wall for support, the bloodied and wounded boy looked at the young Tom with a deep suspicion as he worried his lip out of habit.

How did he manage to get here in the first place? Had he been the one to 'free' Harry of his prison cell?
The thoughts made him dizzy with exhaustion and confusion.

Blinking away the bleariness from his eyes, Harry finally decided to end the silence.
"I'm going to assume that you're from the past... but I have no idea how you did it.." He managed out, attempting to clear his throat and the raspy effect ever so slightly subsided.
His voice, feeling extremely sore from screaming, rang through the silence of the room.
Not that he cared anymore, really.

"That's not your concern and I don't plan on sharing it. However, I do have something I need to do, and it just so happens that I need you in order to complete the process."
Tom spoke, evidently being careful with his word choice. He seemed to speak with a tone of disdain, as if he did not want to ask for help in the slightest, so Harry could only assume that this was important enough that Tom was forcing himself to have to rely on Harry.

Harry hesitantly made his way, slowly trudging  over before standing directly in front of what was the younger version of Dark Lord.
He grasped the boy's shoulder.

As if he'd just been hit, Tom tensed so quickly it was strange.

                  "So you are real."

"Absolutely," Tom breathed, his eyes narrowing as his perfectly groomed brows drew together ever so slightly, "do refrain from touching me. If we're going to..." Tom ignored the sour taste in his mouth as he continued. "... work together, you will obey my rules and actually get work done, with absolutely no horsing around. I dislike the use of my name, but if you must, I suppose I cannot do anything about that."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, furrowing them as he let out a long, drawn breath and let go of the other.
"As long as you follow my own and don't attempt to kill me, I'll try to."
He didn't think he'd ever dream of this happening to him, especially not with Tom Riddle.