TRANSLATION PROJECT

I'm working on translating a Chinese HPLV fanfiction into English. You might have heard of it. It already has two translations, but I kind of thought that both translations were lacking a little something. Hence. This.

This is the original Chinese version, chapter one to four, combined because the word count was too little. This is the first translation by CrownofGlory, and this is the alternate translation by tinanl.

And here's mine: it's short, and doesn't even cover the first chapter. It's maybe a thousand words, and took me about an hour before bed last night. It might sound forced because I'm used to writing whatever I want, not following a script.

Slight disclaimer: I'm not actually certified in either Chinese or English. I don't actually have any important qualifications so make of that what you will. /shrugs. Anyway, not mine. I also admit that I didn't ask for permission to translate this, mainly due to the amazingly complicated site structure and my own laziness.

Also I started translating from the very beginning. I have not read the fic. I have not read the English translations. Fuck foreshadowing, because there's going to be none. I don't know if I'm ever going to finish this, because it's bloody long.

Anyway:

--

Death Eaters stood alongside Aurors in the room of time deep in the heart of the Department of Mysteries. The Aurors, once proud, have now bowed to Voldemort. Their wands were pointed unerringly at Harry Potter, who panted as he leaned against a hourglass-shaped crystal ornament.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Countless green lights sped towards him, some shattering the crystal into pieces, others creating flashy explosions. In the resulting chaos, Harry vanished.

--

Harry had been walking ever since he had awoken, along a darkened corridor. His feet were starting to ache, yet there seemed to be no end to the hallway.

Eventually, exhausted, he stopped to rest against a door bearing a plate that said "1938". Perhaps he had been too heavy, Harry thought as the door swung open silently. Nevertheless, he peered into the pitch black room with a certain amount of curiosity - he could see nothing except for a tiny pinprick of light some distance away.

Somehow, he was sucked into the strange room.

Harry landed heavily, disorientated by the fall. Picking himself up, he realised that it seemed to be some time in the afternoon, and that he was in some sort of forest. He felt for his wand; it was still there. He took a few steps cautiously - it appeared normal. Perhaps this really was nothing more than an ordinary forest.

Suddenly, he heard the beginnings of an argument.

"You freak!"

"I'm not!"

"You are! You're a hateful, disgusting freak! You're going to Hell!"

Then the undeniable sounds of a fight reached his ears.

Harry's feet slowed to a stop. The voice reminded him strongly of Tom Riddle. Voldemort was here? He shivered; he couldn't help but recall how he had been defeated by the man.

Even after six of his Horcruxes had been destroyed, Voldemort remained as inhumanly powerful as ever. Harry had just barely been able to match him in a duel, but once the Ministry of Magic had been taken over by Voldemort with his deceit and bribes and began spreading lies, he had to admit that he had been thoroughly beaten.

Once the Wizarding World believed that Voldemort had changed - that he would no longer engage in indiscriminate slaughter like he had done before - the existence of the Order became superfluous. To prevent more meaningless deaths, he had disbanded the Order of the Phoenix and went to meet his end. His death would ensure that Voldemort at least paused in his attacks, buying precious time for wizards to rest and recuperate.

And he had to confess, even if only to himself, that Voldemort far outstripped him in terms of perseverance and sheer manipulative ability. Maybe Slytherins were simply born with those innate qualities that Gryffindors could never hope to achieve.

Harry hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, but instead of a Lord Voldemort, he found only a young Tom Riddle on the ground, being kicked and punched by a group of children standing around him. His beautiful eyes burned brightly with humiliation, rage, and despair while his dirt-streaked hair became steadily dirtier. The scene, along with Tom's expression, echoed Harry's own unhappy childhood back at the Dursleys'.

"Stop it!" he cried angrily. "Stop it right now or I'll make you stop!"

The children ran away, frightened by his yell, while Tom Riddle stood up smoothly and looked at Harry as though Harry had been meddling instead of attempting to help. Without so much as a backwards glance, Riddle turned and strode off.

"Why did they call you a freak?" Harry asked. Had it been for the same reasons that his own relatives had beaten him?

The boy turned back abruptly. "Get lost! It's none of your business."

"I helped you; you could at least drop the attitude," Harry scolded, frowning. It was difficult to think of this young child as a mighty nemesis.

"It's none of your business," Riddle replied stubbornly. "I could have dealt with them myself."

"You weren't doing a very good job of that," Harry pointed out.

A dark smile made its way onto Tom Riddle's face. Come here, my darling, he hissed. A small black snake slithered forward. Bite him, he told the snake, pointing at Harry. Riddle's smile turned cold as the snake prepared to attack.

Harry stared at the boy. He had forgotten about Parseltongue - no; he had simply not expected for Voldemort to have discovered the gift this young.

Stop, he said. Go back to where you came from. The snake immediately responded.

Tom Riddle was shocked into breathlessness. "You... You can also..."

"Speak to snakes? Yes," Harry said, smiling faintly.

Riddle rolled his eyes, and a fist-sized spider rose up behind Harry. But years of battle training had made Harry sensitive to the movements of magic, thus allowing him more than enough time to fight back.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The spider became as immobile as stone, and Harry flicked it out of the way.

Riddle eyed Harry's wand covetously. "What's that?" he asked.

"It's a wand. A wizard's wand," Harry replied.

"You're a wizard?" Riddle frowned.

"Yes. You're also a wizard." Harry lowered his voice. "A different sort of wizard," he murmured.

"Then can I also have a wand?" The greed in his eyes grew.

"Of course. You'll get a wand when you start attending Hogwarts."

"And when will that be?" The boy was clearly enamoured with the idea.

"When you're eleven."

Riddle's eyes narrowed, and he moved towards Harry. "But I want it... Right now!" His hand shot out with the intent to snatch Harry's wand away.

Harry merely waved his wand, casting a silent Tarantellegra. Riddle immediately began dancing, unable to control himself.

He felt satisfaction in tormenting the young child. It felt like payback for the torture that Voldemort would inflict on him decades later.

Riddle soon started panting, and struggled futilely against the spell. He couldn't stop himself from shedding a few tears upon feeling the helplessness.

Panicking, Harry ended the spell, but Riddle only cried with more vigour. Kneeling beside the boy, he said, "It was only a prank, there's no need to cry. Looking at you now, it's kind of hard to imagine that you'd be ruling the world in the future."

Riddle stopped crying as quickly as he had started. "I'll rule the world?" he asked, eyes shining brightly.