HP:The Phoenix Reborn

Chapter 3: The First Battle

The clearing was silent.

Every single person in the assembled group—future Death Eaters, the first true followers of Lord Voldemort—stared at Harry in shock, their wands half-drawn, unsure of whether they were dealing with a threat or a fool.

But Tom Riddle?

Tom Riddle was smiling.

Not the empty, snake-like grin Voldemort would wear in the future, but something far more dangerous. A smirk of amusement. Of curiosity.

"Well, well," Riddle murmured, stepping forward, hands clasped behind his back. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting company."

Harry tilted his head, his green eyes cold. "Forgive the intrusion. Your… sermon was just so inspiring."

A few of the followers bristled at his tone, but Riddle simply watched him, calculating.

"And you are?" Riddle asked.

Harry smiled. "Hadrian Peverell."

The reaction was immediate. A few gasps, a few murmurs of recognition. Peverell was an old name, one that carried weight. Even if no one had heard of him specifically, the bloodline itself was legendary.

Riddle's eyes darkened with something unreadable. "Peverell?"

Harry shrugged. "Family secrets. You know how it is."

The moment stretched between them.

The air hummed with magic.

This was the moment. The first true move in the game.

Riddle studied him carefully, then… smiled again. "I must admit, I'm intrigued. Not many would wander into my domain so boldly."

Harry smirked. "Bold? Or just better informed than you think?"

Riddle's amusement didn't fade, but there was an edge to his expression now. "You speak as though you know something I don't."

Harry took a step forward. The followers tensed, but he ignored them. His eyes locked onto Riddle's, green against dark brown.

"I know everything about you, Tom," he said quietly.

The reaction was subtle. A flicker of something sharp in Riddle's eyes, the barest twitch of his fingers.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"You should be careful," Riddle said smoothly. "Knowledge is a dangerous thing."

Harry chuckled. "Oh, I know."

Another moment passed.

Then, Riddle smiled—truly smiled.

"You're interesting, Peverell," he admitted. "I do hope we speak again."

Harry inclined his head. "I'm sure we will."

And with that, he turned and walked away.

Not fleeing. Not running. Just leaving.

It was a test.

A battle of wills.

And for now? Harry had won.

But the war was just beginning.

——

Harry knew Riddle would come looking for him.

It wasn't a question of if, but when.

He had made himself a variable, an unknown piece in a game Riddle thought he had complete control over. And if there was one thing Riddle hated, it was unpredictability.

Which meant Harry needed to be prepared.

The next morning, he sat in the Gryffindor common room, flipping through a book on ancient magic, when Remus plopped down across from him.

"You were out late," Remus observed.

Harry didn't look up. "I have a habit of wandering."

"Into the Forbidden Forest?"

Harry smirked. "I like the fresh air."

Remus sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sirius and James may be content to just let you do your own thing, but I know better. You're up to something."

Harry finally closed the book and met his gaze.

"And if I was?"

Remus leaned forward. "Then I want to know what it is. Because I have a feeling whatever you're doing is going to affect all of us."

Harry considered him.

Remus was smart. Cautious. But unlike Dumbledore, he wasn't playing a long game of manipulation. He genuinely wanted to understand.

That made him useful.

After a long pause, Harry spoke. "There's something dark growing at Hogwarts. Something that won't stay hidden forever."

Remus frowned. "You mean Voldemort?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So you do know."

Remus sighed. "We're not stupid, Harry. There are rumors. Students whisper about a man gathering followers. About blood purity, about the future of magic. James and Sirius might think it's all talk, but I know better. I listen."

Harry smirked. "Good."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "So tell me. What are you really doing here?"

Harry's gaze darkened.

"I'm making sure history doesn't repeat itself."

———

Dumbledore was waiting for him.

Harry stepped into the old man's office, the flickering light of the candles casting long shadows against the stone walls. The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt it—wards, strong ones, designed to hold, contain, and protect.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, hands folded neatly. His gaze was piercing, unreadable.

"Mr. Peverell," he said softly.

Harry smiled. "Professor."

A pause. Then—

"You met him."

Harry didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"Yes."

Dumbledore exhaled, his blue eyes flickering with something ancient. "And?"

Harry tilted his head. "And what, sir?"

Dumbledore studied him. "Did you learn what you needed to?"

Harry smirked. "Oh, I already knew what I needed to. I just wanted to see if he did."

Dumbledore sighed. "You are playing a dangerous game."

Harry leaned against the chair. "So are you."

A flicker of amusement passed over Dumbledore's face. "Indeed."

For a long moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, Dumbledore said, "You have power beyond your years. A knowledge that does not belong in this time. You and I both know this."

Harry didn't respond.

Dumbledore continued, his voice quieter. "But power is not the same as wisdom, Mr. Peverell. And if you do not tread carefully, you may find yourself trapped in a web of your own making."

Harry exhaled slowly. "I'll take my chances."

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I suspect you will."

He reached into his desk, pulling out a small, unassuming book. He placed it on the table between them.

Harry glanced down. The cover was blank.

"What's this?"

"A record," Dumbledore said simply. "Of the last time someone tried to rewrite fate."

Harry's fingers hesitated over the book.

Dumbledore's gaze was heavy. "Be careful, Mr. Peverell. The past does not like to be changed."

Harry smirked, picking up the book.

"Then it's about time I break the rules."

Author's Note:

Harry is moving deeper into the shadows, balancing between Dumbledore's watchful gaze and Riddle's growing curiosity. The first battle has been fought, but the war is only beginning.

What should Harry's next move be? Should he build his own alliances, or should he start dismantling Riddle's network from the inside?

Let me know if you want more!