He couldnâ€™t believe how stupid he was. How had this happened? He wasâ€¦ Really? This is what happens with a broken time turner? Back in time, with no point of return. In a time before he was born. In a time before even his father was born. Was he really doomed to this wait, to return to Hogwarts an old man once he got to his own time? There just had to be a way he could get back, without growing oldâ€¦ The stupid Time Turner had seemed to have a mind of its own, having brought him here by spinning, very fast, backwards. In his panic, he had tried to drop it, but it would not release him from its magical hold until it had stopped. Where, with fear, he released it from his grasp, only to quickly catch it within the pocket of his school robe. Breathing heavy, he looked around fast enough to cause a minor headache, but nothing seemed different, but he knew from lack of broken glass and the fact a sink was not missing having been broken by illegal Muggle firework called a Cherry Bomb; that he was in a different time. In the past. But all he really wanted to know at the moment, was how he was going to get back, without fighting in the war that he knew was to come. The war that would change Hogwarts forever, with scars so large that parts of the castle had never been the same. Several ghosts always seemed to talk about it all the time. Why, of all places, had the Time Turner chosen to take him here? He didnâ€™t know if he would be able to face him, stand on the side of good with Harry Potter, and face his Great Grandfather. If he was even sure that was the time that he was in.<br/><br/>He was, or could still be Christian Malfoy. Or Chris, or the Dark Prince if you were a Slytherin, back in his time. He didnâ€™t know if he should stick with the alias he had since he started First Year, or actually use his real name, Thomas Riddle. That was who he was born as, the Great Grandson, of Tom Marvolo Riddle, The Lord Voldemort. But he couldnâ€™t stay where he now stood, a place he realized was unchanged by the times, used only by those who wished to keep secrets, and a ghost girl who had the horrible habit of picking out the most famous, or hot guys and flirting so obviously, it was awkward. Shaking the thought from his head, he was quick to make sure that she wasnâ€™t actually in her bathroom before he was peeking out into the halls, and sure that it was clear, started to walk quickly from the bathroom.<br/><br/>He should have just stayed patient, and not have ever stolen the broken Time Turner that now resided within the outer pocket of his robe. If only the teacher had been in the classroom like they always were, if only he hadnâ€™t seen it as the huge opportunity that it was. If he hadnâ€™t pocketed the thing and taken off to figuring out its secrets, then he would not be in this mess. But he had just grown so tired of asking to see it. Grown obviously impatient with asking to touch it. And very frustrated with not knowing anything about it's so called dangers. All they had been told was that it was dangerous, they were told it didn't work right; they were told it could cause bodily harm. The broken Time Turner had just been too tempting. The warnings had not been enough; he needed to know more, needed to touch it. He needed to know how such a brilliant piece of magic could break, become so unstable that it could not be used. So naturally, he'd wanted it badly. It was in his blood to want and desire danger; he is after all, the heir of Slytherin, in hiding, a Riddle in horrible disguise. No Malfoy but him had such dark hair. All of his 'cousins' were blonde, even his own father had been blonde, but he was sure it'd been a spell without a reverse. One he had no plans on using and had actually, been forbidden from using. He stood out, as Tom Marvolo Riddle's spitting image, the man they learned about once a year, as a mandatory thing because of the war with the first Lord Voldemort that left scars upon Hogwarts to stand forever. The other houses seemed to fear him, like he was the reincarnation meant to be bad. The Dark Lord reborn. In reality, it was his assigned destiny. A destiny that he hated because in his family, he really was the next in line to be, as his father is now or considering his current time predicament, would be, Lord Voldemort. Every Slytherin knew who he was, even a few in other houses, whose parents are Death Eater's. He would forever and always be called the King of Slytherin; and the Dark Prince, until he took over the reign as Dark Lord. He knows more about the Dark Arts, then every Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher theyâ€™ve ever had.<br/><br/>Shaking those last remaining thoughts floating around in his head, he took several glances over each shoulder, before he was moving to slip into a secret passage way. He figured that he was far enough away from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom that it would be easy enough to get on up to Gryffindorâ€™s tower and kidnap the brown haired bookworm that was Hermione Granger.  If he really was in the time he figured that he was in. Because honestly, she seemed like his best bet and hope of ever returning to his own time, without being the old man he kept seeing himself as. So, as he set to slip into the secret passage, his horrible luck of never being caught; kicked in reverse and he felt his arm being grabbed by what he could only guess was a teacher. A slow turn to look up at the old woman confirmed his suspicion when he saw the stern look on her face. And this was a teacher he had never seen before. Looking down upon him, questions he couldn't properly answer arouse and in no time at all, the grasp on his arm shifted to his elbow as he was being taken to a Headmaster he last knew to long be dead. So with a great show of acting skill, he hid his fear and shock as he was dragged along. They passed many curious students on the way before they were standing on a winding spiral staircase, to stand before a large wooden door he'd seen only a few times in his life at Hogwarts.