I hate, HATE writing speech. It makes me want to cry. I'm really, really sorry for taking so long to update, but I have better plans for this trilogy spanning Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and The Avengers, although the last won't be appearing until book 2, which realistically is like at least 40 chapters away. Any way, I hope you appreciate my version of Voldemort, he's going to be a bit more human and subsequently a lot more dangerous in this series than in canon. This is long authors note already, so I won't bore you with excuses, but please review, cause they do motivate me soooo much.

Disclaimer: Whatever don't sue me.

An alarm blaring was the first abnormal thing to happen that night. It was a ward Voldemort had placed himself around the Malfoy manor, and it was supposed to prevent anyone unauthorised from entering the grounds. Immediately everyone in the meeting room looked directly towards their leader, and turned away from the woman that was being tortured.

"Rowle, Nott and Parkinson go and check the grounds. Meeting adjourned. Dolohov take our prisoner back to its cell." Barked Lord Voldemort. The day they capture the first order member, and he was interrupted by an alarm. The twenty or so death-eaters in the room fled as quickly as they good, either trying to avoid a pending attack, or to go and fight. Snorting, Tom considered that he really ought to get some new followers. The ones he had currently were either cowards, or stupid. With a few exceptions of course.

Speaking of exceptions, Voldemort noticed that one figure remained in the room.

"Bella are you fond of not following orders or are you too dumb to notice when I order everyone out of the room?" The woman flushed, a look which did not suit her aristocratic features.

"Well I thought that if an impending attack was happening, that someone should stay with you." She said after a moment to collect herself. A smirk danced across the Dark lord's lips.

"Are you implying that I need protection?" He said, his cold voice chilling Bellatrix's face, which promptly drained of what little colour it had.

"No… not at all… I" Again, unlike herself Bella stuttered and stumbled over her words. Her master made a mental note to ask what was wrong, then frowned. He did not ask what was wrong with his workers. As long as it did not affect their work, why should he care. Before he could continue his half-light hearted tormenting of Bellatrix, the three men returned holding a golden basket.

"My lord, this was the only thing we could find, it was flowing towards the entrance." Nott explained, putting the basket carefully on the ground.

"He means floating, sire." Rowle amended.

"And could you be more specific and tell me what it is?" Voldemort said, putting Nott in the stupid section of his followers, and letting his anger show in his voice. The three men paled.

"It's a… a child, my lord." Parkinson said, quieter than his usual bellow.

"Would you like me to dispose of it?" The only female in the room asked. Voldemort shook his head, and summoned the basket to him. When he held it he noticed that it was made of a shimmering golden wood, one that he could not recognise. The child inside appeared fairly generic, with a small tuft of black hair on its head. Having barely any experience with children himself, Riddle could not tell what age it was, though it looked incredibly young. He was about to grant Bella her wish when he noticed a corner of a letter poking out underneath the child's blanket. Curious, he put the child on the floor and opened the envelope, trying to ignore the intense gaze of the others.

Inside the letter was a neat, curly writing. It seemed familiar, but almost dreamlike. The message itself was cryptic, and yet straight forward.

Sofia Riddle- Presumably the child's name. Voldemort didn't dwell on the implications of their shared last name, for he had never been remotely romantic with anyone.

Now I fulfil my promise, it is time for you to fulfil yours- Again, Voldemort never made promises that held any weight, others promised him things, not the other way around. Memories loomed on the horizon of his mind, tempting to leap forward at any second. Nothing about this seemed familiar, yet he felt a connection with this child that he could not explain.

There was a small giggle from his feet. He looked down into the child's storm grey eyes, and was submersed in a wave of memories.

Grey eyes stared at him. Being tall it was rare for anyone, especially a girl to look at him eye to eye. But this alone could not explain the immense power he felt radiating off this woman. The woman would not be messed with, and would squish him like a bug if she decided she didn't like him. Tom Riddle felt fear for the first time in his life, and he did not enjoy the emotion.

"I've heard about your work?"

It had always been work between them. From the morning that she barged into Borgin and Burke's at two am, demanding to see him and scaring Borgin to death. Quite literally as the man had died only a month later, cursing about a beautiful Grecian woman. They certainly had grown close, for they had stayed in contact for years. Well, she could contact him, he had spent many lengths to try and find her and contact her, only to find she did not exist. But she would always appear when he embarked on a new project. She would stay with him for however long the project took, and then disappear as soon as it was finished. Whilst this arrangement kept them close, it never allowed them to become friends, as he never found out anything about her. In fact, when he repeatedly asked for her name, she just said, "There is much power in a name Tom, or should it be Voldemort now?" she had seemed so innocent, yet she knew how dark he was. She would change the subject whenever he mentioned it. He had posed that she simply did not want to dwell on the fact that she knew a murderer. What a very human thing to do.

Although, truth be told he had never even been sure she was human. Though it was true she did not resemble any creature that he could think of, aside from human, she had a certain air around her that was different. She held herself as if nothing could pose the slightest threat to her. She spoke with a wisdom beyond her years and he had seen her perform the advanced wandless magic. Though she had seemed threatened once. The last time he had seen her.

8 years earlier:

A Sharp rapping on his door woke him that morning. Look at his clock it was six in the morning. No one had woken him up when he had been in this house. His followers would never disturb him, too afraid of his anger. Even the Malfoy's, who owned the place he was staying- not hiding, for he did not need to hide- would not wake him. A house elf might come in if it was past noon, but never an actual person. The sharp knocking recommenced, forcing Tom to get out of bed and open the door.

Revealing Ava. Well, that's the name he had given her after she refused to tell him her real one. Stormy grey eyes connected with his, and he shivered. Something had broken inside of her. She looked more than a little deranged, and she had been crying.

"Sorry, to wake you, but it's urgent." She said, her voice hoarse, so crying and yelling then. Probably at someone. He opened the door further to let her in. She did not sit down, instead paced for a few moments before facing him.

"I can't visit you anymore." She said. It was not confident, but neither cowardly, it was a statement of a fact. Voldemort looked at her, his eyebrow arched, a cool exterior masking a furnace inside.

"What?" He said, only letting a little of his anger show. He was wide awake now, fury boiling inside, yet it was not directed towards the woman.

"Tom, I can't explain, I am forbidden, but my father will no longer tolerate me seeing you. I'm sorry." Fear was present in her voice, and Voldemort realised that it was directed towards the man that was forbidding their company, not at the woman treating him as if he could be refused.

"Why now, why this change? Ava, you are aware of who I am, you always have been. Which is more than I can say for you." A single tear trickled down her cheek, and she ignored it, but sat down, though she looked ready to jump at everything.

"Let's not pretend you're the same person than you were in Borgin and Burkes. I know as much about you now than you do about me." She paused, took a breath, and steeled herself. "I know, that despite your façade you long to have more of a relationship than we do currently. But I cannot do that."

"Why?"

"I'm not human. I know you have suspected it for some time now. I am a goddess, one of many that rule this realm." Thunder rumbled outside, and she glared at the ceiling, seemingly trying to match the sky. Riddle did not blink at the knowledge, but that fact that there were deities shocked him. "My name is Athena, and I came to you because I saw ambition and wisdom. But what I ignored was your darkness. My king can't ignore that, because our duty is to the world, not to induvial mortals. So, he decreed that this was the last time I could ever see you, there are ways to promise people things in my world, things which I can't ignore. So, I'll promise you something, the biggest gift I can give anyone." Tom was still in shock, but if her power was as great as she implied, a gift couldn't go amiss.

"On the river Styx I promise to give you a child, and they will be half god, half mortal. But you must protect her from her enemies Tom." Now Voldemort didn't know what to do. He was a dark lord, who had no time for children. But, an heir could be useful, especially one as powerful as himself and Av- Athena combined. Protecting her wouldn't be a big problem.

"I, I swear on the river Styx." Thunder cracked outside, and lightning stuck just outside the manor. Athena smiled at him one last time, and he closed his eyes as she left.

Waking from his memories, Voldemort looked down at the smiling infant.

"Oh shit," muttered the dark lord, and father to a demi-god.