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A shadowy figure glided down the dark streets of Cork, its cloak billowing behind him. He felt at the hourglass in the pocket of his robes. Without a tether to life, anything could go wrong with this plan, and that would be the end.
He turned into a particular alley. Nothing special, but it was to him at this moment. For at the exact spot he had laid out in his mind, it was there: a single knut.
Bother. He had hoped it would at least be a galleon, but it's not like anyone would ever know about it. Not if his plan worked properly.
At the start of the school year, Tom Marvelo Riddle was confused and nervous. He had noticed that there was no limit on the amount of classes he could sign up for. Of course he took the opportunity to sign up for every single available class for third years. He didn't expect that to work, obviously Professor Slughorn would pull him aside and tell him to choose a few classes to drop. There was no possible way he could take that many, he would have to somehow be in two classes at once.
But then, second year ended, and no one mentioned it. No letters about his classes. There were only letters from his 'friends' (who were only acquaintances to him, but they didn't need to know that, otherwise they would never obey him).
The, third year began and he had no clue what would happen. That is until just after the start of year feast, when Professor Slughorn pulled him aside, and asked to speak with him in his office.
"Am I already in trouble, Professor?" he had asked him. "The year just started."
"No no, nothing of that sort," Slughorn had told him. "I wanted to discuss your schedule with you."
"Oh," he had said. "No one mentioned that I was not meant to take so many classes. The class picker that I was given had no limit."
"Of course it didn't, Mr. Riddle," Slughorn had responded. "You see, you are an amazing student, one of the best in your year."
"Thank you, professor."
"As such," he had continued. "I am pleased to give to you one of the greatest magical artifacts that Hogwarts has to offer. It's not given lightly, but to those Slytherins who show the core attributes of our house most fully, cunning and ambition, there is no other option.
"Threrefore, I am pleased you your very own," he reached into his desk and pulled out a small, ornate wooden box, "time turner."
"A what?" he had asked, accepting the box and opening it. Inside was a small hourglass on a chain, in a casing made of green and silvery metal.
"A time turner. This is how you will make it to all of your classes. This one is especially designed for Slytherins, no nonsense about it. Normally they just kind of dangle on a chain, and you have to be careful not to let it turn accidentally."
Riddle had then pulled the hourglass out, and clasped the chain around his neck. He found that the casing swiveled around as he moved it, but the hourglass stayed in the same orientation.
"Instead, there is a knob on top. You must flick it thrice, and it will retract. Then you can freely twist it counterclockwise. It will send a beep to your mind every time you add an hour. You can go back a maximum of seven hours every day. Once you've set the hours to your liking, flick it thrice again to go back in time. Flick it once to reset and try again."
Riddle had been rubbing the hourglass, feeling its smoothness. He had never owned something so magical, so ornate. He flicked it thrice, it did exactly as said, and he flicked it again to reset it. "So you said it has a maximum of seven hours? Why would that be?"
Slughorn smiled. "You see, seven is a very powerful magical number. Why else do you think we have seven years at Hogwarts?"
Riddle nodded. "So only an hour at a time?"
"Yes, one hour. Not a second more or less. That way you can attend one class, then go back a couple of hours to attend another. You can also use it to create extra study hours, and if you have leftover time you can sleep a little longer. But do be careful about taking notes, and completing assignments of course. Please just be smart, like I know you are."
"And are there any limits on what I am allowed to do with it? Is there any way to track what I use it for?"
Slughorn frowned. "Why would you want to know that? You're not planning anything illegal are you?"
Riddle shook his head. "Nothing of the sort. I simply want to know where the line is so I can stay far away from it."
Slughorn nodded slowly, then smiled. "Ah, of course. Can't fault you for that. No, there are no tracking spells of any kind. I trust you enough to know you won't need them. Of course, if you break that trust, I will have to take the time turner back.
Riddle nodded.
"Nonetheless, do not use it to prank other students, do not let other students know about it, do not let your past self see your future self, and the obvious: no killing, maiming, fleeing from the scene of a crime, sneaking around after hours, etc. I trust you will follow these rules?"
"Of course, professor," Riddle nodded.
Over the next couple of months, he had spent much time experimenting with the limitations of the time turner.
He watched his past self disappear into the past multiple times, without any sort of wind or sound. He tried using a temporary air freshening spell in the past, then standing in the same spot an hour later, reversed time, and eventually found the air freshened after he watched himself disappear again.
He had placed a chair on the ground, removed it an hour later, and immediately used his time turner while standing in that spot. He had researched spells to reverse the damage if the chair somehow became a part of him, but he ended up on top of the chair. He tried it again standing where the back was, and ended up just behind it. He tried again while sitting on nothing, and ended up sitting in the chair.
That suggested to him to him that when he reversed time it moved him to the nearest, most comfortable spot for his current position. Also that it moved the air in his new spot forward in time.
Finally, before this night, he tried his final experiments. He told himself beforehand that in an hour, he would go two hours back in time, and place whatever he found in a certain spot, back in that certain spot.
A knut had shown up, making him one knut richer. Then he went back in time two hours later and placed the knut back in that spot. Now he was one knut poorer.
So, as it turned out, it was possible to create matter. But seemingly only if you made it disappear, evening it out.
Then he tried again. He found a box in the spot, with a knut inside. He cast a spell on the knut that would notify him if it was destroyed. He did the process, the box and knut disappeared, and he received no notification. Excellent.
Hopefully, that meant that the energy from his spell wasn't lost or destroyed in this process. And hopefully larger amounts of energy wouldn't be destroyed either.
So now here he was, breaking all the rest of those rules.
He grabbed the knut and swept back out of the alley. He spotted a muggle, staggering along, looking unkempt, clearly drunk. So drunk in fact, it wouldn't be out of the possibility for him to die of alcohol poisoning.
"Ay, c'mere young'n!" the man shouted at him, his voice slurring. "Whaddrya do'n out suh late?"
"Oh, you know," Riddle said, pulling out his wand. "Avada kedavra."
The man collapsed on the ground, motionless. And thus, Riddle went through the process of placing half of his now fractured soul into the knut. An unspeakable process, so terrible it is.
Then, he flicked the knob thrice, twisted it until he heard it beep twice, then he flicked it thrice again.
He swept back to the alley, put the knut in the right spot, and left.
Two hours later, he smiled knowing that he would never die.