Chapter 1
Tom’s head is killing him. Really. He hasn’t had a headache this bad since the day after Abraxas’ wedding. (And what a momentous occasion that was. Tom spent the whole night on his feet, scandalizing old pureblood biddies by dancing with any wizard he could charm. And Tom can be very charming when he wants to be. Whether the scandal was his gender or his official blood status, Tom will never know. It is a very fond memory either way.)
But he hadn’t been on a bender recently, had he? And he's not one for casual drinking either. Usually at least. Where had he even — wait.
Wait.
This isn’t his bed. Or his flat. Or any of the places he usually frequents. Hell, it's not even some dirty alleyway—not that he spent a lot of time napping in random street corners, but it had happened before, once or twice.
Which really begs the question, why is he standing stark naked in a cauldron in the middle of a graveyard?
A quick look around through the ominous clouds of mist reveals a random kid, tied to a vaguely familiar gravestone and a small fat rat of a man, clutching at his heavily bleeding arm. And the corpse of yet another kid, not even cold yet, by the looks of it.
Ah, shite.
That’s the grave of Tom’s father isn’t it? A father that was definitely dug up. Recently too. That paired with the missing hand and the tied up boy can mean only one thing. Although Tom would really like to ask his past self what the actual fuck was wrong with him to make a literal child his nemesis. Not that Tom is an all sunshine and daisies person — he likes to rub out people that tick him off, so what? — but his worst enemy not even having an apparition license yet is just…sad. For everyone involved. Surely Tom could make better enemies than that. Hell, even as a child himself, he managed to feud with no less than two priests, a janitor, and an entire troupe of wandering street performers. All muggles, of course, so not up to his current standards — Tom highly doubts any of them still live anyway — but leagues better than the other children at the orphanage. Naturally, they were still his enemies, but none of them would have qualified as his nemesis. Fuck you, Dodger Doyle! Anyway, that spot was claimed by Albus too many names Dumbledore. The second Tom met the man, he had stepped into the lifelong position of being his worst enemy.
Tom is not even going to question the servant. Rat face is so far below his standards, he is almost coming back up on the other side. Except that he isn't because, no. Just, no.
Either way. Tom is not twenty-five anymore. That much is obvious. And he clearly lost the plot somewhere along the way, as evidenced by the sub-par enemy, clearly useless (and singular) servant and the fact that he needed a resurrection in the first place. He better clean this mess up quick and then go find out what year it is.
Harry is so confused.
Dumbledore and everyone keep questioning him. But he has no answers. He really doesn’t!
He has no idea where Cedric is or why the Cup malfunctioned like that. He didn’t even know the thing was a portkeybefore he touched it. Which, really? They could have told them that — it's not like it would have been a hint. Just one less possibility for a fright induced heart-attack or other very possible accident due to incorrect usage. Like apparently happened to Cedric.
If Harry tries really hard, he has some vague recollection of a really creepy place (a graveyard, maybe?), something cold and hard against his back and a really insanely attractive man. Who was also naked and looked very annoyed and strangely nostalgic. But that makes no sense at all! None of it does!
So Harry can only assume it all was some weird hallucination induced by too much time in portkey space. And poor Cedric got lost somewhere in there. Or something. Is there even such a thing as portkey space? Why does magical travel have to be so dangerous?
In the end he has no answers for Dumbledore, no matter how pushy the old man gets with his probing questions. What is he even angling for here? It was almost like he expects Harry to have had some really traumatic event, which, fair, given his track record. Still. Kinda weird. Does being forced to participate in a deadly tournament for adults (okay, older teens) count as traumatic enough? No?
Alright, so maybe past Tom hit his head even harder than he previously assumed.
Horcruxes? Immortality? Mass genocide? And at some point his vague fantasies of world domination became more than just an entertaining daydream. In a very problematic way. (Ruling through fear and murder is not very sustainable. Past Tom really should have been able to understand such simple logic, merlindammit.)
Now don’t get him wrong, Tom definitely finds the whole Horcrux concept fascinating. And yeah, he can totally see how he got to where he was. If he didn’t have a rather intimate understanding of the downsides, he would be very tempted to experiment a little. But he knows better now. Splitting one’s soul equals splitting one’s mind.
So. Point taken. No more evil soul magic. No more Voldemort or Deatheaters either. Were these dumbass names really his own idea? Anyway. He has a new plan now. A plan that involves getting a new identity, a new job, possibly looking into the nemesis-kid (there’s got to be at least something interesting about him if he made it far enough up his shit list to get that ritual to work) and fucking with Dumbledore as much as humanly possible. A man needs a hobby.
The first steps in that plan are surprisingly easy.
The goblins don't even bat an eyelash when he comes in at three in the morning, demanding a fresh identity. Probably not the weirdest shit they’ve seen that night. A quick inheritance test and a stupid amount of paperwork later, he is now officially Lord Thomas Peregrine Slytherin. Descendant of one of the Slytherin cadet lines, with absolutely no connection to the Gaunts. Or the Riddles. But considering that they were muggles and that their line ended when Tom AK’d dear Tom Sr. back in ‘45 to celebrate his graduating Hogwarts, that was impossible anyway. Thomas Peregrine Slytherin is only twenty-five years old after all. Homeschooled, of course, because of the unsavoury things people tend to associate with the name of Slytherin. Which, of all the things in the last few decades that are solely Tom's fault, that might be the worst. He managed to completely warp and poison their entire history—not to mention all the children getting pulled into the mess solely because of their sorting.
The title is an unexpected — and very nice — bonus. Tom considers joining the Wizengamot purely for the sake of messing with Dumbledore. Maybe he can get the goat admitted to the mental ward. Or give him an aneurism. Tom isn't picky. He could also try to get his fingers into the government, pull the strings of some puppet officials—maybe even a minister or two. All very tame, of course. Nothing more illegal than what the ministry is doing, anyway. With his own name as far away from any sort of limelight as possible. Been there, done that. But those are considerations for the future. He has to establish himself in British wizarding society before he attempts any sort of political career.
A quick trip to Hogwarts (which, is sneaking into Hogwarts supposed to be this easy?) and an even quicker exorcism free up much needed space in the Hogwarts teaching roster. Because Tom isn’t stupid enough to try for Defense against the Dark Arts. Sure, he would be a killer Defense teacher. But Dumbledore would never hire him for that. History though? With no one else being able to fill the position, no less? Only three people in Britain have a mastery in History of Magic. Remus Lupin, Bellatrix Lestrange and, of course, Tom. Which means he is the only possible candidate for the job. Perfect. The old goat will lose his last few brain cells panicking, but he really has no choice. Tom is going to have so much fun with this.
Dumbledore accepts his application. Of course he does. There is no other option. He can’t bring back the werewolf without getting lynched by angry parents, and Bellatrix is self-explanatory. (Actually, Tom is pretty sure she is currently in Azkaban, which, given what he remembers, doesn't surprise him at all.) Although he wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore to try for either of them just to spite him. The man had ruined his chances before, for no discernible reason. Sure, Tom killed Myrtle Warren and Dumbledore probably knows, but surely he isn't the only Hogwarts professor with some blood on his hands? Flitwick for sure killed one or two people in his younger days—and it hasn't been a problem for him.
Tom can’t help but grin manically into the mirror as he puts the last touches on his appearance. His hair is in a neat side-part, adding to the overall very old-fashioned and nerdy appearance of the giant horn-rimmed glasses he chose to wear. His robes are ill fitting and a truly atrocious shade of brown. They clash gloriously with the checkered shirt and maroon tie. Adjusting the specs one more time, Tom fixes a nervous expression on his face and lets his shoulders stoop forwards. Perfect. Not even he would recognise himself like this. It will drive the old man mad.
The headmasters office is a lot more…cluttered than he remembers.
Dippet always kept the space professional but inviting, if a bit on the spartan side. Dumbledore has taken a more showy approach, clearly an ineffective attempt to impress. Most of the ‘mysterious’ devices Tom can see are just random muggle toys. Perpetual motion machines and things like that. Spelled to actually move perpetually. How pointless. Still, Tom does his best to school his face into an expression of fascinated wonder.
"Mr. Slytherin, I presume?"
Tom flinches dramatically and whips his head around to the other side of the room. Dumbledore is watching him with an inscrutable expression on his wrinkled face.
"Ah—headmaster! I do so hope I didn’t make you wait? Oh no, I did, didn’t I? What a terrible first impression—"
"It’s quite alright, my boy. Please, why don’t we sit?" Truly inspiring how Dumbledore can manage to pull off such blatant power plays while still looking like a benevolent grandfather. Tom knows for a fact that he is not late at all. He would be impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed.
"Now then. Please tell me about yourself, my boy. I must admit I believed the Slytherin line to be mostly extinct." Was that supposed to be subtle? He might as well have straight up asked if Tom was Voldemort. It is hard to imagine how the man had managed to get half the wizarding world as his obedient pawns. Tom is almost jealous.
"Well, it all started with my many, many times great-grandfather—Salazar Slytherin. Of his three sons—" Tom starts into a long-winded, convoluted and mostly fake family history, complete with tangents, random historical context and a lot of backtracking. Dumbledore’s eyes glaze over about five minutes in. "—and that is why my grandmother decided to keep her children away from the public eye. My parents followed her example."
"I see." No, he really doesn’t. But the oh so great Albus Dumbledore would never admit to that. "And you decided against that?"
Tom’s cheeks flush and he bashfully averts his eyes. "I…I always wanted to be a teacher. To watch over and assist young minds as they grow into what they were always meant to be—it must be the greatest thing of all." He’s not even fully lying. Tom had always wanted to be a teacher. Well, a Defense teacher. But History is great too, and it really was time for the damn ghost to move on and let the students actually learn.
"So it is. Thomas, my boy, I see no reason you shouldn’t be allowed to follow such a worthy passion. If you would arrive a week before term starts, my deputy—Professor McGonnagal—can get you all settled in. I will arrange for all of Cuthbert’s materials to be sent to you beforehand, so you can prepare." Dumbledore clearly does not want to welcome him like that. Even if Tom was innocent, the old man would never regard him without suspicion. All because of his last name. Funny how a man like that preaches goodwill and tolerance.
Tom smiles. It’s the same deranged, evil smile he gets right before people start screaming. Dumbledore pales dramatically. "Thank you so much, headmaster! I shall do my very best to reward such great trust in my person." He leaves the office before Dumbledore can get over his shock.