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47 Days to Change (a translation) 

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Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort
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Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are enemies, born adversaries, prophesied leaders of opposite factions.
2001 to 1932, forty-seven days to change the fate of the Dark Lord.
This is a 'Harry travels back in time to raise Tom' story. An unfortunate tale of one man's failed attempt to mold young Tom into a decent, law-abiding citizen. Instead, as Fate will have it, young Tom grows up to become the same twisted psychopath, who is hell-bent on winning the love of his adoptive father. Harry's consent be damned.
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Chapter 46: Karkaroff

Author's note: I'm posting two chapters as an apology for taking so long. Really didn't mean to leave you guys hanging.



September 30, 1942


A month passed in the blink of an eye. The Triwizard Tournament was looming on the horizon; the preparations were nearly complete.

“The Triwizard Tournament was founded about seven hundred years ago. Three magical schools, known today as Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts each selected a student to participate in tasks that would test their talents, strengths, courage, cunning, and adaptability. Due to the high mortality rate, the event was indefinitely suspended. Several attempts have been made to revive the Triwizard Tournament but they have all ended in disaster.” Almost all of the students were wide awake, an incredibly rare occurrence for History of Magic. Professor Binns droned on in his leisurely way, but that didn’t deter the interested youths.

The audience consisted of Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Durmstrang students. The Hufflepuffs listened attentively because they yearned for the Triwizard Tournament to start and to cheer on the Hogwarts’ Champion. The Durmstrang students listened carefully because they loved the idea of the challenging and dangerous tasks. Bitter, however, were the Slytherins. They weren’t interested in the challenges or the prize being offered. They listened because they desired the glory that winning would hold.

To further the Slytherins’ dissatisfaction, their Champion was a Gryffindor. They had always considered their House better than the others. Their blind arrogance left them intolerant of the Champion and his supporters. With no easy way to vent their anger, the mood was worsening, and the atmosphere was becoming tense.

“Rest in peace to the most flamboyant Gryffindor Hogwarts has ever seen. How did Leodegan ever get picked?” The mockery could be heard in every corner of the castle from the Slytherins.

“Do you really think that you could be better?” The other students would ask. The Slytherins would lash back with harsh words and the situation would continue to escalate until curses were being thrown.

Here was a telling moment for the Slytherin House. All that talk about grace, elegance, and strategy and all they amounted to was dressing fashionably and acting petty.

The handsome boy smirked to himself as he listened to his housemates make snide comments during Binns’ lecture.

What did it really mean to be Slytherin? They could be just as impulsive as Gryffindors, calm where Ravenclaws were cool, but they were heartlessly cruel, cowardly, and untrustworthy. They demanded glory and status but shed all responsibility at the first opportunity and proceeded to be insolent and reckless. They were unscrupulous and their friendship could be bought and sold. And all these terrible things came together to form the noble House of Slytherin.

Slytherins rarely collaborated as a whole, preferring to be separated into groups based on their families’ social hierarchy. So the Slytherin House was always a mess with people moving in and out of groups as their families moved.

It pleased Tom to see the chaos.

He knew the best way to take over the Slytherin House. After all, its greatest weakness was exposed for all to see; the House ready to collapse at just the right push.

The teenager turned his attention away from his jeering housemates and to the lonely Durmstrang student in the corner of the room.


Igor Karkaroff glared at Dieter Charlov’s back, anger and jealousy filling his chest. Why did Charlov become the Champion? What qualities or talents did he possess that Igor did not? How could he be more worthy?

The Professor winded down his speech and gestured to the students that class time was up.

The Durmstrang students quickly and neatly packed up their items and followed Charlov out of the classroom. Karkaroff was excluded from that group. No one waited for him, no one called for him to hurry, and no one was willing to let him join.

No matter what country you lived in or which school you attended, the freak was always excluded from the rest of the group. It was a fact that had haunted Karkaroff for years of his life. If he had been chosen, he’d finally be acknowledged and admired.

Karkaroff took great pains to hide himself in the dark corner of Hogwarts, away from the sight of the Hogwarts students who had surely noticed his exclusion. He couldn’t bear to hear their whispers or see their curious looks.

“Damn you, Charlov.” The teenager growled as he hurried to gather his belongings.

“What is it? Just don’t like him or… no, could it be that you want to take his place? You would be a better fit.” Tom said kindly. He held out a slim white hand, lips stretched over perfect white teeth. The words rang out like a siren’s call to Karkaroff.

Karkaroff’s exceptionally sharp eyes peered up at Tom, angry and curious.

Tom smiled gently; his flawless looks and intelligent persona were powerful tools for convincing people to do what he wanted without using any magic. “I understand. He doesn’t deserve the glory and attention that he’s getting. I can see it, same as you.  And you know what? I know how to use the rules to your advantage. I know exactly to how stop him from stealing what’s yours.”

The young man’s voice had changed to something nearly tender, almost sweet, and charm practically dripped from his mouth. Though the words were gentle, Karkaroff could feel every point the boy made with a pang in chest. They whispered to the anger and the jealousy in his blood. His heart started to beat faster.

“Who are you?”

The boy had bewitched him and Karkaroff was about to be dragged deeper into the abyss he was teetering on the edge of. Without a thought, Karkaroff placed his hand in the boy’s strong grip.

“My name is Tom Riddle, a pleasure to meet you.” Tom’s eyes flicked to their linked hands and his smile widened.


Karkaroff sullenly slunk to his temporary room at Hogwarts.

He heard laughter from the other boys but none of them even turned to look at Karkaroff, despite hearing him enter.

Tom Riddle’s words lingered in his ears as he headed to his bed.

“I’ll give you a day to consider this: I’ll give you what you want if you’re willing to give me your powers. I don’t need your loyalty, just your help when I call for it. I also want your assurance that you will not betray me.”

The thought of taking down Charlov had long since decided the matter for him.

He was tired of being ignored, despised the taste it left in his mouth. He no longer wanted to be excluded from the others. He didn’t want to be alone. Give Tom Riddle his powers in exchange for what he wanted? Of course he’d agree. After all, how could that boy ever know if Karkaroff did betray him? And what could he possibly do if he found out?

A sinister smile slid onto his face. No Unbreakable Vow, no contract, and he’d soon be away in Germany. How did a fifth-year Hogwarts student expect to keep him under his thumb? What a naïve child.

Karkaroff watched Charlov joke and laugh with his friends. He smiled, just as cheerful as the other boys, but for less amiable reasons.


Tom didn’t know the thoughts running through Karkaroff’s head but would balk at them if he knew. A good hunter never worries about his prey escaping.

Tom wore a warm smile as he kept a brisk pace down the hallway, greeting others pleasantly. He was stopped by Abraxas’ voice. Curious, he followed the sound around the corner.

“I didn’t do a thing to her.” Abraxas said, casually, hands in his pockets. He stood facing two serious looking girls.

Tom made his way further into the corridor, and turned his smile up a few notches, warm to charming. “Hello, Head Girl McGonagall. Has something happened?”

Her annoyance with Malfoy’s cavalier attitude eased at the sight of Tom. “Riddle, I want you, as Prefect, to get some control over the Slytherin students. These fights with the other students need to stop. I don’t want to see this happen again.” With her hair pulled back sharply from her handsome face, her serious expression gave her an impression of great authority.

“I’ll do whatever I can to remedy the problem. Good day, Head Girl.” Tom nodded to McGonagall as she and the other girl walked by him.

When she gone from sight, Malfoy flicked his hair over his shoulder and said, “So bad-tempered. She’ll probably end up marrying much later in life.”

“I’m going to the library. What about you?” Tom asked, ignoring Malfoy’s words.

“Same, I suppose.” Malfoy shrugged and followed Tom. He had nothing better to do now that his fun was over.

Abraxas ended up finding little of interest in the library. In his opinion, his family had a library with far more interesting books. In less than half an hour, he was squirming in his chair from the boredom. He wanted to talk to Tom but as soon as he opened his mouth the keen-eyed-and-eared librarian would look over at him. He ended up just swallowing his words.

Abraxas rested his chin on his hand, lazily looking around the library.

Was that Harry Potter? Abraxas squinted at the man and then swept his eyes to the other side of the table where Tom was sitting, focused on his book.

Standing beside Harry was a very tall person. Abraxas racked his memory for someone that large and came to the conclusion that it was probably that half-giant Gryffindor, Rubeus Hagrid. Ugh, the kind of creatures that House took in was revolting.

The half-giant seemed embarrassed and scratched the back of his messy hair. He then smiled at Harry, eyes crinkling.

The black-haired man laughed and raised his hand to pat one giant shoulder before handing over a book. He always seemed to be smiling. Anyone he came across was gifted with a genuine smile.

Abraxas briefly turned his attention to Tom before turning back. As far as he knew, Tom and Harry’s relationship had gone through both some bad and good times. He distinctly remembered that they had appeared to be in some kind of row not too long ago and Tom had been unpleasantly cross all throughout it.

The thought brought up an old memory. In his first year, Tom had similarly been angry most of the year. And why? Harry Potter.

A second year at the time, he had asked the sullen child about his problems. Like many Slytherins, he took pleasure in the distress of others. He’d been teasing the child when he’d said, “You care about him so much and he just left you? What are you doing to do about it?”

And how did that little first year answer?

“I’ll kill him.”

The sentence had seeped with murderous intent. The incident had left him spooked for several days.

But as that terrifying child grew bigger and bigger, he grew increasingly mild. Abraxas would nearly call him harmless compared to what he used to be. No one would ever believe it if Abraxas told them the story today.

“What are you looking at?” Tom asked, and before Abraxas could respond, he turned to see the two men standing between the shelves. 

Abraxas thought Tom would move forward or wave to get the man’s attention but Tom surprised him.

“Come on.” Tom closed his book and walked straight out of the library.

“Don’t you need to check that out?” Abraxas stared down at the book.

Tom swept his hand over the book and the words on the cover began to change. It now read Curses and Counter-Curses.  He trusted the glamour told in front of Abraxas, the librarian, and even Slughorn. He didn’t dare have it out in front of Dumbledore, who might be powerful enough to see through it. He also needed to keep it from Harry’s sight in order to eliminate all possibility of exposure.

As for Harry talking to the half-giant?

Since he had already tasted every inch of Harry’s skin, the man sparing an ugly half-giant a smile mattered little to him. He held an experience no one else could claim. Not Alphonse, not Joan, no one. They had not personally stripped off Harry’s clothes, licked the shell of Harry’s ear, or brushed their lips on his crotch.

Back in the Slytherin common room, Tom sat down. There he eagerly opened his book to a page titled “Horcrux”.

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