The Riddle of Existence

THE RIDDLE OF EXISTENCE

PROLOGUE

Harry Potter limped away from the body of the white, red-eyed creature that had caused him so much grief over the last fifteen years. His leg was bleeding, and one arm dangled uselessly, but Harry still had things to take care of before he could finally rest. He stared down at the unconscious boy on the floor in bewilderment. Harry had absolutely no idea what to do with him.

He stared down into the white, unconscious face of Tom Riddle. He had slightly messy black hair and a symmetrical, faintly-cherubic face that promised to become handsome as he matured. He was rather thin, and looked slightly malnourished, in a way that reminded Harry of how he looked at that age. The boy couldn't be any older than twelve.

A shudder went down Harry's spine at the thought of what Voldemort had been willing to do to his own, younger self. 'The ultimate measure to insure immortality,' Voldemort had sneered at him. Killing Harry would have sealed the ritual he had planned to perform. Harry sighed and pointed his wand with his good arm.

"Enervate."

Riddle's eyes opened and widened in fear. He tried to scramble backwards, but was too weak and disoriented to do more than move a small way. Harry gave him a tired, twisted smile.

"It's alright," he rasped at the frightened boy. Now that he was awake, Riddle looked even younger than Harry had taken him to be. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm guessing that you're from Hogwarts, too. How old are you?"

Riddle tried to speak but coughed instead. He was dehydrated and his tongue was dry and swollen. So was his throat. It made speaking difficult.

"Eleven," he finally managed to croak. He was almost in as bad a shape as Harry was. "Is that horrible wizard-thing gone?" So Voldemort hadn't even bothered to tell the kid who he was. Probably he didn't want to admit that he had once been this frightened boy. Harry wondered if even the Death Eaters knew.

"He's gone," Harry confirmed. "Come on. We need to get out of here before the Death Eaters come back."

He limped to the door and looked cautiously out into the hallway. Tom joined him as he began to descend the stairs.

"Who are you?" Riddle asked after a few minutes.

"Harry," Harry replied shortly, looking for the door and heading towards it. "Harry Potter."

"I'm Tom Riddle," Tom offered. "Thomas, really."

He received no reply as Harry was already walking outside. He followed him out and was in time to see the Knight Bus appear out of nowhere with a loud bang.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, the-"

"We know," Harry interrupted tersely. The conductor got a good look at him.

"Bloody hell!" One of his prospective passengers was dishevelled and looked half-starved, while the older one was not only extremely dirty and bleeding profusely, but also happened to be Harry Potter.

Harry ignored this.

"Here." He shoved a handful of coins at him and boarded the bus. "Make sure Tom gets some hot chocolate. We want to go to ...Grimmauld Place."

Harry had almost said Hogwarts when he remembered that the site was hidden to most people. He limped heavily down the aisle and sank onto a bed, exhausted.

Riddle watched timidly, unsure of what was going to happen now, before deciding to do the same. He was handed a mug of hot chocolate by the conductor and was about to take a sip - it smelled wonderful and he hadn't had a drink since this morning, and no food since the day before yesterday - when the bus took off. He was almost catapulted into the aisle but grabbed onto the bed in time. Hot chocolate sloshed out onto the mattress.

As the bus turned corners the bed slid across the floor with him on it. Tom watched their progress apprehensively.

"Time Square, Mrs Hambleton!" the conductor announced suddenly. The bus jerked to an abrupt stop. Riddle's bed slammed into the one in front of it while the empty bed behind him slammed into his own. Riddle leaned over to look at Harry, who was in the bed he'd crashed into, only to find him fast asleep. He shook his head and wondered how he'd managed it. Perhaps he'd been knocked out.

As the bus travelled, Tom learnt the trick of holding onto the bed and drinking the hot chocolate at the same time. It was difficult, because if you took a mouthful at the wrong moment then hot chocolate could slosh out of the mug onto your face, but he managed it.

He was just taking the last sip when the bus jolted to a stop.

"Grimmauld Place, Mr Potter!"

Gingerly Riddle shook Harry's shoulder. Harry groaned.

"We're here," Harry was told.

"Alright, he said, his eyes still shut. He was weak from the amount of blood he'd lost. "Give me a minute."

Riddle did so, glad of a moment's rest himself. The bus had thrown him about a lot, and like Harry, he wasn't in a very good condition right now.

"Oi!" It was the conductor, impatient with the delay. "Look 'ere, wot's taking so long?"

"I think he's really hurt," Tom said nervously, looking at Harry's white face and the large wound in his leg. "Help me get him up."

The conductor was nervous too, now; it had obviously occurred to him that there was some, admittedly remote, chance of the hero of the wizarding world dying on his bus. Harry groaned as they helped him to his feet.

"Hey!" said the conductor, alarmed. "You need an 'ealer, you do!"

Harry shook his head 'no'.

"Tom," he said faintly, "help me out."

Rather unsteady himself, Riddle supported Harry out onto the footpath.

"Think of the address, '12 Grummauld Place'," Harry whispered.

Puzzled, Tom did so, and to his astonishment an extra house appeared in fornt of them. He helped Harry forward and rang the doorbell, just as Harry finally fainted.

Riddle was dragged down with him across the doorstep. The door opened and the two of them fell half-inside the doorway.

A woman screamed. Riddle, weak, hungry, and thirsty, with stars engulfing his vision, briefly looked up at her and tried to say something, but joined Harry in unconsciousness.

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Mrs Weasley's scream brought Lupin running. At the sight of the two black-haired boys lying half-in the hall he stopped dead, then surged forward. He bent down to check their pulses, his eyes widening somewhat as he recognised the younger boy. Still, Harry must have brought him for a reason.

"Harry's alright, Molly," he said soothingly. "The other too, for that matter. Help me get them inside."

The boys were pulled completely into the house so that the front door could be shut. First Tom, then Harry was carried inside and laid on a couch near the fireplace.

Lupin rushed off to contact Hogwarts while Mrs Weasley fussed over Harry, then (more reluctantly) Riddle. A short time later Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fire.

He strode first to Harry to check his injuries.

"Dear boy," he murmured, smoothing Harry's hair away from his face. "You're in one piece at least."

He turned to the younger boy, a slight look of wonder on his face as he checked him over.

Riddle stirred and looked blearily into Dumbledore's face.

"Your hair has gone white," he croaked confusedly. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a little.

"It is indeed," he said gently. "Rest, my boy."

Riddle obediently shut his eyes again only to have them shoot open again a moment later.

"Is Hary okay?" he asked anxiously, trying to sit up.

"He is fine," Dumbledore replied, propelling him down again. Riddle sighed and relaxed, drifting off to sleep again. Dumbledore stared down at him, his face inscrutable and his thoughts busy.