A/N: Hello and thank you for taking time to read this. It's sort of AU but don't worry I'll explain everything soon. Please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Harry Potter, that belongs to the genius JK Rowling. Also I don't own The Hunger Games, that's Suzanne Collins' idea. Hmm and I'm not Strauss or Beethoven advertising my work here...

This first ever chapter is dedicated to the three people who persuaded me, each in their own way, to publish this fiction. So, Tarry, Solar Kitty (FanFicNet name) and my tea-loving friend Aura thank you so much! That's for you :) Tarry, a second thank you because you corrected my grammar ;)

Chapter 1

It was a sunny Saturday evening when Harry, Ron and Hermione were having a road trip near the Riddle House. Hermione had insisted that such a visit would help them-especially Harry -coping with the recent events of Voldemort's downfall and also with his previous traumatizing experience at that particular place.

They had apparated in Great Hangleton and then rented a car to travel to the village nearby. Everyone agreed that the stunning view of the valley would help take the edge off.

It hadn't really... Their short stop at the graveyard had caused Harry to hyperventilate, so now that Ron was at the wheel and Hermione was making Harry take small sips of water, they all seemed to be waiting for something to distract them.

Harry, terribly embarrassed, was gazing at the once beautiful manor, when something caught his attention. Although the windows were sealed, two at the second floor were open and light was coming from inside. Without saying a word to prevent himself from vomiting, he pointed at the guilty windows. Hermione worried, turned to look. She seemed surprised too, she had stopped muttering under her breath for one. Ron at the silence asked:

-Hermione, what's wrong? Is Harry ok?

-Oh, yeah, I'm fine but look at the house. These windows are open. Someone lives there.

-No one lives there, harry, the wood just broke. Some children from the village probably...

After some bickering Hermione agreed to a trip to the Riddle House under the condition to make it quick and be extra careful. Sooner than she wanted, they had climbed the hill on which the huge manor stood and Ron pulled over in front of the entrance. It was truly a wonderful place, even with the ivy all over it, it still had an aura of grandeur. But there was something else in the air too, something more sinister.

With their wands out, they reached the old door and Harry pushed it open. He didn't find any resistance. They exchanged looks and took the first step inside. The ground and first floor were deserted, with thick layers of dust on the furniture and small mice running around. At the stair's landing they stopped. Classical music was coming from the rooms upstairs. Criminals with elaborate musical taste?

-So, you do not like Strauss? Would you prefer something more epic? Beethoven perhaps?

A gorgeous young girl was staring at them from the end of the landing's hall. She was tall and slender, with waist length shining raven hair. Her eyes had a peculiar dark green colour with slivers of grey. She was wearing a set of amethyst robes that were too big for her. Actually her clothes were little more presentable than rags but suggested she was magical.

So did the vaguely dangerous aura that surrounded her. She wasn't more than 15 but that gleam in her eyes, the intensity of her gaze, made her almost frightening. And then she smiled dazzlingly at them and approached laughing softly.

The three friends opened their mouths to say... something but she interrupted them and said:

-Of course I know who you are . I have heard so much about all of you. You are Hermione Granger, you Ronald Weasly and you -she made a dramatic pause and her gaze fell on Harry- are Harry Potter.

Now that she was closer, it was obvious that she was studying them feverishly, her eyes scanning every inch of their bodies, jutting every reaction. Under her scrutiny they had paralyzed. Only Harry managed, when the silence and the girl's stare became unbearable, a:

-Who are you? What are you doing in this house?

-I live here, she answered proudly, the smile gone, replaced by a glare. It was obvious she would not accept any mockery. As for who I am, well let's just say that I am the true owner of this house. Now please come in. I would be quite a rude hostess letting you all stand there.

She made an elegant gesture and led the way to a big room much cleaner than the rest of the house. On a fragile table a cup of tea, a teapot and a milk jar were sitting. It seemed that in spite of her obvious poverty she was well trained in manners. She weaved her wand, which was long and made from a rather dark wood, and three more teacups appeared. She sat on a dilapidated chair and tilted her head on one side smiling, expecting them to join her.

But this simple move made Harry unexpectedly snap.

-True owner? What does that mean? he demanded aggressively, not himself sure why suddenly he felt anger and fear(?) flooding him.

The others stared at this change of posture. On the contrary the girl didn't stop smiling.

-It means that in spite of some legal... issues, this house is mine. Or should be anyway. Through heritage.

Harry stared, feeling panic grow in his chest though he couldn't explain it at first. But then...

-Heritage, he repeated. This is the Riddle House. That'd suggest that you're a Riddle. But you're magical too.

Harry felt his voice die in his throat. That combination could mean only one thing, one terrible, wrong, completely absurd thing. You are related to Voldemort, he accused quietly.

The girl's smile broadened, her eyes shot lightnings.

-Oh. Oh yes. I am his daughter.