Chapter 1
A/N: Okay, as you may have noticed, I have posted a few stories. These stories are ideas that have been sitting in my hard drive for a long time and I decided since I don't know when I can update anything to just post them and decide what to do with them from the responses of you readers. This Author's Note will be on most of the stories, so you'll know which ones I'm talking about.
Prologue
Harry didn't know how he ended up in the dark room, and the only conclusion he could come to was that he had died. Harry snorted; his damned Uncle had finally beaten him to death. Old Voldie was going to be upset about that. Or maybe he would find it funny. Even better would be if he figured out that the prophecy was fake since it supposedly only them who could kill the other. On to more important matters, why did he still have a conscious if he was dead? Harry had thought that you would just die; nothing afterwards. Well, hoped is a better word for it.
"Ah, I see that you are confused," Harry jumped at the sound of a voice, echoing in the strange darkness.
"Who are you?" Harry growled.
"Why," The voice laughed. "I am the reason that you still live! I would have thought that you would have known that much, at least. Before I explain more, we must wait for the other to arrive."
"Other?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Potter!" a voice screamed in rage. A familiar voice, Harry groaned. Voldemort, surprisingly looking like Tom Riddle once more, stood there glaring at him. "What am I doing here?"
Harry just cocked an eyebrow at him. "No idea. Not unless you're dead, too."
Voldemort blanched. "Of course I'm not dead. Wait…what do you mean you're dead?"
Harry cocked his head. "Well, I died. I thought that, that would be obvious. Why you're here, I don't know."
"Ignore young Mr. Potter. Being beaten to death puts a damper on a person's social skills." Voldemort stared at Harry, before looking around for the voice.
"My social skills are fine, thank you very much!" Harry whined. "I'm just a little put out at being beaten to death. It's not fun, you know! I didn't even realize that the moron killed me. Wonder how dear old Bumbles' going to take that?"
"I'm lost." The Dark Lord admitted. All he was getting from this conversation was that Potter was dead, someone had beaten him to death, and Dumbledore was going to have a fit.
"Either way," The voice said in a dismissive manner. "I have decided to give you both a second chance. Well, I decided to give Harry a second chance. He just happens to be your Horcrux, so you get one too."
"WHAT?" Voldemort asked, whirling on the confused Harry.
"Don't look at me. What's a horcrux?" Harry frowned.
"Enough!" The voice, which they had both concluded was Death, growled. "I am sending both of you back to when Potter there got his first Hogwarts letter." Harry whimpered; he had nearly died the first time around from his uncle's beatings, he wasn't looking forward to doing it again.
Voldemort frowned, "What's with that reaction?"
Death ignored the question, addressing Harry. "Don't worry; your relatives won't actually kill you that time. They didn't the first time, did they?"
"Almost," Harry muttered, unconsciously rubbing his abdomen where they had carved the word 'FREAK' into his skin.
Voldemort paled as he finally understood how the young Potter boy had died. "Your family beat you to death?"
"Of course," Harry frowned at the Dark Lord. "Who else would have? Your lot prefers spells kill with magic."
"Dumbledore left you with abusive muggles," Voldemort shook his head. "Is that old coot going senile?"
"Yep!" was Harry's cheery reply.
"As amusing as this is," Death snickered. "You two will have to continue this when you find each other again. Sorry Harry, but at least they leave you alone for a while after Hagrid comes."
Harry just sighed, resigned to his fate of being tortured once more. Well, at least he could fix his previous mistakes. He could let the hat sort him into Slytherin. He would shake Draco's hand, and avoid Ron, though he would befriend the twins. They had always been loyal to him. He would ignore Hermione; she wasn't even a muggle-born, but a half-blood, the little liar. He could do everything differently!
"Well," Harry looked at the Dark Lord. "I guess I'll be seeing you. I hope."
"Very well," Voldemort looked at the boy in sympathy. "I will contact you at a later date. Assuming that you no longer follow Dumblewhore?" Harry barely managed to keep from laughing outright at the insult.
Harry smirked, his green eyes glowing eerily. "Of course not, why would I follow someone who creates fake prophecies?"
Harry vanished before the Dark Lord could comment. Death laughed and the Dark Lord disappeared again.
