Chapter 1
A man comes out of the life-sized cauldron, then looks around and sees the following things, a teen covered in dirt and blood tied to a statue, another teen who seemed like he was sleeping on the grass, and a man, whom he names 'Idiot', bowing and calling him "My Lord" while kissing his feet.
Having a headache and trying to understand what is happening, and who are those strange people." The man looks around, and he sees a graveyard where a ritual is taking place, since Idiot is calling him a Lord, it seems he is the one who must finish it. The man then looks around and thinks to himself 'I will take dirt and put it over my forehead and then put this bone in the cauldron next to me, from this nicely designed coffin, that belongs to .... ah who cares' he then begins to dance and juggle with it then he throws it in the cauldron, he realizes the weather was a little too nice, looking down and sees something was missing .... "Why am I naked? Is this part of the ritual or something?" he asks in a confused voice, turns to Idiot and asks, "you got cloths for me?". Iditols stares at him in shock, like he can't understand what was said to him says. "Oh, forget it, give me that thing." "You mean the cloak?" Idiot asks in a deadpan voice." yes, that thing."
As he puts on the cloak, he hears a mumbling from the teen tied to the statue and asks "What are you..... why are you tied to a stone? Is this another part of the ritual? Why are you all dirty and bloody? And why is Idiot over there calling me lord and kissing my feet? No offense, but that is gross " The teen, 'glasses', the man names him, does not answer any of his questions. Instead, he stares at him with a look of shock and fear.
In a quivering voice, almost like a whisper, the teen says "I know who you are," his voice gaining a little determination and confidence. "You're V-Voldemort. You... you're back."
The teen swallowed hard, his memories of the events that had led him to this cursed graveyard come rushing back. " You used my blood to regain your body and full strength! And Idiot, as you call him, is Wormtail – Peter Pettigrew. He's your Death Eater!" He yelled in anger.
The teen's eyes flicked to the other teen, who still lay on the grass, with a mixture of grief and horror washing over him. "Cedric... he's... he's dead. You... you killed him."
"Voldemort? Death Eater? Cedric... dead?" The man muttered, head spinning while trying to understand everything he heard. He glanced at the cauldron, the bone he had tossed in, and the graveyard. It all started to make a horrifying kind of sense. He then turned his attention back to 'Glasses,' looking at him with fear and defiance. "I... I don't remember any of this. Who are you? What is this?" he asked, voice trembling with confusion and fear, then sat on the ground.
The teen's expression softened slightly, though his anger remained. "You don't know? Did he mess up the thing and cause you to lose your memories or something?." He sighed, clearly torn between frustration and a desire to make the man understand. "You're Voldemort. You're... the dark lord. Or not anymore..... I do not know. You are someone..... or something. But you have his powers and followers." With the cloak wrapped around him like a makeshift robe, head spinning from all the information. He looked at 'Glasses,' who seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown, and then at Idiot, still frozen in shock.
"Let me get this straight," the man began, "I'm a dark lord called Voldemort, or not anymore? Yet, I've got his powers and followers. And that guy, Cedric..., napping over there, is dead because of this?" shaking his head, trying to process it all. "This has to be a nightmare."
The teens' expression was stern "Hey! you can process it all later, first, you need to understand what's at stake. Voldemort, who you were before, is dangerous, so now you've got to destroy the ritual and stop his plans."
The man scratched his head, looking at the cauldron, which had the bone he had carelessly tossed into it. "Wait? Am I bald?.... Alright, fine. So, what do I do? Wave a magic staff or something?"
The teen sighed, "You don't need a wand, you've got your powers. You just need to focus your magic to stop the ritual."
The man took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing as hard as he could. After a few tense moments, a surge of power was felt, and the cauldron began to sputter and hiss, vanishing along with the dark energy surrounding it, dissipated into the air.
Idiot, finally snapping out of his shock, released a horrified gasp and screeched. "My Lord, what have you done!?"
Shrugging, The man feeling strangely accomplished, replies "I think I just saved the day or something. But can we please find some clothes for me? Being the 'naked savior' isn't really my style."
The man, still clad in the makeshift cloak, surveyed the bizarre scene in the graveyard. Idiots' insistence that he was a dark lord had begun to sink in, now convinced that he had stumbled into the realm of madness. He decided it was time to make his exit.
Turning to Idiot, he said, "I think I've had enough excitement for one day. I think I'm going to go discover the world, or at least find some cool pants." He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "No more cauldrons and chanting for me," he muttered to himself.
The man stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of the disrupted ritual, the surrealness of the situation not lost on him. He glanced at Glasses, who was still eyeing him warily, then at Idiot, who seemed utterly lost.
With an amused smile, the man patting Idiot on the shoulder said. " Worry not, Idiot. I may not have any memories, but I have a feeling that you and I are not going to get along, at all."
Idiot looked at him as if he'd just sprouted a second head, clearly unable to comprehend the sudden change in attitude.
As he turned to leave, he noticed 'Glasses' was still tied to the statue, looking rather miserable. He walked over and examined the ropes. "Mind giving me a hand here? Let's get you down from this awkward position." With Idiot's help, they quickly freed 'Glasses' from his ties. Once released, 'Glasses' stumbled and almost fell, but the man caught him just in time. "Easy there, partner. No need to faint on me now."
'Glasses,' gave a weak smile. "Thanks... I think, I hope."
The man chuckled. "You're welcome, Glasses. Did anyone ever tell you that you look a bit like... well, I have no idea who you look like... it feels like I should know, honestly, I can't remember a thing about anything."
'Glasses,' now free and standing awkwardly in front of him, blinked in surprise. "Wait? you serious"
The man scratched his head. "Not a thing. It's like my memory's gone, or maybe amnesia. All I know is that Moldemort, or whatever, is a ridiculous name, seriously cannot be a name it's so stupid sounding it should be a crime, despite what Idiot here believes."
Glasses's eyes widened in realization. "You really don't remember anything?"
The man shook his head. "Nada. Zilch. Zero. But I'm strangely okay with it. It's a fresh start. By I still have a fountain of knowledge and wisdom but I just can't reach it"
Glasses exchanged a bewildered look with Idiot, who was still recovering from the shock of the disrupted ritual. Now seeing the man's confusion, finally decided to introduce himself. "I'm Harry Potter, by the way. The wizarding world knows me as 'The Boy Who Lived.'"
The man blinked, trying to process this information. "The Boy Who Lived? Really? Did you survive something like a really bad haircut, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction? Fell from a bike?"
Glasses, now named Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's not about haircuts or fashion disasters. It's because I survived the Killing Curse when I was a baby."
The man scratched his head, clearly puzzled. "So, let me get this straight. You're famous because you didn't die when you were supposed to as a baby? So, a mutant immortal baby"
Harry grinned. "Exactly! Quite the story, you only will find in a novel, isn't it? But more like a wizard"
The man, now growing more frustrated, looked at Harry and then at himself. "But what about me? What's my name?"
Harry took a deep breath and said, "Your real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, but you've been going by the name Voldemort."
Voldemort, now knowing his true name, Tom Riddle, looked at Harry with a mix of surprise and relief. "Tom Riddle? That's... That's something, at least. Thank you."
The man felt a strange camaraderie with Harry and even a bit of dislike for Idiot. Despite the craziness, he was starting to see the potential for a new chance at life.
Harry turned to Tom. "hum, Tom, there's something I need to ask of you."
The man, who had just learned his real name, Tom Riddle, nodded.
Harry's expression darkened at Peter Pettigrew, who was trembling with fear. "Tom, this... this man right here, Peter Pettigrew, whom you named Idiot, is the reason I had to go back to my abusive aunt and uncle after my parents were murdered. He betrayed my parents, James and Lily Potter, who were his best friends. He gave their location to Voldemort, leading to their deaths and the murder of thirteen other innocent people, and framed Sirius Black, my godfather, for their murders."
Peter stammered, "My Lord... I... I only did it to serve you."
Harry couldn't help but shake his head, his anger mixed with a touch of exasperation. "Tom, this guy is the master of treachery. He'd sell out his grandmother for a chocolate frog card. Just keep in mind that he's responsible for a lot of pain and suffering. If he offers to help you with anything, make sure it's not a 'Secret Keeper' gig."
Tom tried to stifle a chuckle, finding the absurdity of it all amusing. "Well, Harry, they do say some people are just born trouble magnets. All right, let's give this another shot. Peter, you're going with Harry to clear Sirius Black's name."
Peter, trembling and terrified, had no choice but to comply. Harry, still annoyed but finding some humor in the situation, began the process of ensuring Peter's capture and preparing for Sirius Black's trial, determined to free his wrongly accused godfather and bring justice to the wizarding world, all while dealing with the perpetual nuisance of Peter Pettigrew.
As Peter Pettigrew realized the gravity of the situation and the potential consequences of his actions, a wild idea popped into his head. He decided to make a run for it, his tiny rat-like form darting toward the edge of the graveyard.
However, Tom Riddle may have lost his memory, but he still retained the aura of power that Voldemort was known for. With a single icy glare, he raised his hand, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath Peter's feet. The trees around them rustled ominously, and the wind howled as if nature itself was in agreement with Tom's decision.
Peter froze in his tracks, his rat-like instincts telling him that escape was no longer an option. He turned to Tom with wide, terrified eyes, almost comically caught in mid-scurry.
Tom spoke in a low, commanding tone, "Peter, you might have fooled others in the past, but you can't escape your actions any longer. You're going with Harry to clear Sirius Black's name."
Peter, now thoroughly intimidated and realizing the futility of resistance, nodded vigorously. He knew that Tom was not a force to be trifled with, even without his memories. And with that, he reluctantly accompanied Harry, casting nervous glances over his shoulder at the still-imposing figure of Tom, who had unintentionally turned a potential escape into a comically terrifying encounter.
"Wait a minute," Harry muttered, furrowing his brow. "Tom, your wand. Do you have it with you?"
Tom patted the pockets of his cloak, his expression growing increasingly perplexed. "No, I don't."
Harry's eyes widened when he saw the wand in Peter's trembling hand. "Tom, there it is! That's your wand!"
Tom nodded with a determined glint. "Let's get it back."
They approached Peter cautiously, who looked like a cornered rat. Harry kept his wand at the ready, while Tom took a step forward, his voice surprisingly calm.
"Peter, it's time to give that wand back," Tom said, extending his hand.
Peter looked from Harry to Tom, his beady eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route. "I... I didn't do anything with it! I promise!"
Harry's patience was wearing thin. "Peter, we saw you with the wand. Hand it over, or there will be consequences."
Peter gulped audibly and slowly handed the wand back to Tom, who snatched it from him with a scowl. "Good. Now, stay right here. We have some business to attend to."
After reclaiming Tom's wand from Peter Pettigrew, Harry and Tom decided it was crucial to ensure that Peter would no longer pose a threat to anyone. They knew that merely taking the wand back wouldn't be enough to prevent him from causing trouble again. So, they decided to use a petrification spell to immobilize him.
Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Peter, who was still trembling and cowering. With a determined expression, he incanted the spell, "Petrificus Totalus!"
A jet of blue light shot from the wand, hitting Peter squarely in the chest. He was then frozen in place by the spell, his body becoming rigid and unresponsive, and fell to the floor.
Tom watched with a mix of wonder and satisfaction. "Well, that should keep him out for a while."
Harry held out the wand and looked at Tom with a serious expression, which was quite a feat considering Tom was still wearing the makeshift cloak that made him look like a disheveled, magical hermit.
"Tom," Harry began, "this wand, channels your magic and helps you cast spells. It's a tool that can do extraordinary things, but it's also something we must keep hidden from non-magicals, or Muggles. They don't know about the magical world, and we must keep it that way."
Tom examined the wand in his hand, his brow furrowing. "Why? What's so important about keeping it a secret?"
Harry sighed, realizing the difficulty of explaining such a complex concept to someone with amnesia, especially when said someone was wearing a cloak that looked like it belonged in a medieval fantasy convention. He chose his words carefully. "Magic is a part of who we are, but Muggles can't comprehend it. If they knew about us, it could lead to fear, persecution, and chaos. We have to live in secret to protect ourselves from them and also protect them from themselves."
Tom nodded slowly, still eyeing the wand suspiciously. "So, we hide our magic to protect everyone, including Muggles?"
Harry grinned, finding the whole situation somewhat absurd. "Exactly."
Tom's expression shifted from confusion to amusement as he glanced at his own attire. "Well, if we're a secret society, I guess I'm the 'undercover' one with this cloak. Do we work with the secret police or spies?"
Harry chuckled. "No secret police nor spies. There is a secret government and there are aurors, who are magic police. Just keep in mind, Tom, our mission is to blend in with the Muggle world while secretly wielding the power of magic. Can you handle that?"
Tom gave a mock salute, his cloak billowing dramatically. "Tom Riddle ready to blend in and dazzle Muggles with my...robe uh, cloak."
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "That's the spirit, Riddle."
Harry stepped closer to Tom and extended his hand. "Take care, Tom. I know this is all incredibly bizarre, but remember, you have a chance to make different choices this time. Use it wisely."
As Harry and the now petrified Peter Pettigrew left the graveyard with the portkey and Cedric's body, leaving Tom Riddle behind, the once-feared Dark Lord turned amnesiac wizard couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. He had just disrupted a dark ritual, learned his true identity, and found himself in the company of Harry Potter and his former Death Eater.
Tom decided that if he was going to embark on this strange new chapter of his life, he might as well make the most of it. He started walking in the opposite direction, away from the graveyard, in search of answers and a sense of purpose. Harry and Peter had their mission, but he needed to find out who he truly was and what his place in this world might be.
The world beyond the graveyard was both fascinating and bewildering to Tom. It was as tho he had been reborn into a realm of endless possibilities. Also, Tom leaves out the graveyard wondering to himself what in the world is a chocolate frog.