Title: Riddle

Rating: PG, will be updated, I know there will betorture later on.

Pairings: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/OC

Warnings: OOC, AU, Torture later in story, OC, warnings will be updated as story progresses.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just twist it.

Prologue part 1: The Children

Lord Voldemort walked out of the house in Godric's Hollow carrying a little bundle in a blue blanket.

'What am I thinking?' he thought to himself, apparating away from the wreckage of what used to be the Potter's home as neighbors began to come out of their houses in curiosity. 'I'm really willing to disappear from the world? Leave all my groveling Death Eaters?' He snorted uncharacteristically at the image of his followers kissing the hem of his robes. The he looked down at the bundle in his arms, using one hand to toss items into several trunks, shrinking them and moving on to the next in a flurry of activity. And he remembered what had fascinated him about the child.

The boy had just looked at him , and been unafraid of the wizard who had his wand trained on him, and had killed his parents.

In the blanket against his chest, Voldemort felt the little boy wriggle in his sleep. He was leaving so he could train this boy without the fear that one of his followers would kill him to clear the way for someone else to be the Dark Lord's heir. Voldemort grinned. And when he had the boy fully trained, he would win against that old fool; Albus Dumbledore.

Shrinking the last trunk, full of the other trunks containing all of his possessions and tucking it into his robes pocket, Voldemort disapparated.

--

Voldemort walked through the empty house, surveying the rooms with his now chocolate brown eyes.

"Three bedrooms, three baths, living room, kitchen, an office area, formal dining room, library, and washer and dryer in the basement. There's plenty of storage area in the attic, and the back yard has plenty of room for kids. We haven't had any offers yet. You'd love this place, Mr. Riddle." The real-estate agent prattled on about the old house, and various minute details, such at the banister, and where they were carved.

Tuning her out, he focused on Harry, sitting up in his arms. The little boy laughed, and grabbed a lock of the Dark Lord's dark brown hair. His chocolate eyes sparkled.

"Yes, this place will be wonderful."

--

Voldemort had taken everything he owned, everything in his and Harry's vaults, and changed his name. He didn't expect the old coot to actually look for anyone with the name of 'Riddle'.

Voldemort was now Marcus Riddle, living with his son, Harry Riddle, and a large house on the edge of town.

It was several days past Halloween, but the decorations were still up, and 'Marcus', had a hard time containing the urge to hex the sugar hyper children who kept knocking over the displays in the muggle bookstore where he worked. It had been a year since he and Harry had moved in, and he was making efforts to fill the library with muggle and magical texts. He had discovered several muggle authors that wrote decent stories, although he would never admit it.

Marcus had finished feeding Harry dinner, and cleaned up the corresponding mess of spaghetti sauce and noodles by hand. If he used his wand the ministry would be down on him faster than he could sneeze. Now, he picked up the boy, and began to march in the direction of the stairs.

Within the first week of living there and job hunting, Marcus had been cornered by the community's stay at home moms, who offered to baby-sit while he was at work, and had made a 'club' that took walks every Saturday afternoon with their young children. They had forced him to join, and most days, Harry was watched by a neighbor, but on others the owner of the book store allowed him to bring the kid to work.

The doorbell rang. Harry giggled. Marcus groaned.

'If it's another overly helpful neighbor, I'm gonna kill someone the muggle way. With my hands.' Marcus mentally snarled.

When he opened the door he was met by an empty porch. About to shut the door, he looked down, and his stomach dropped as he looked at a tiny bundle lying on the doormat.

Balancing Harry on one hip, he bent down, and expertly scooped up the bundle. Looking closer, he saw a thick letter tucked into the blankets, obscuring the face of the baby. Turning back to his house, Marcus kicked the front door shut with his foot, heading back into the kitchen.

Again he cursed the ministry for not being able to use his wand, and made a mental note to go get a new one in the near future. Placing Harry in his high chair, Marcus sat down at the small wooden kitchen table, Removing the letter from the tangle of blanket.

Harry looked at him, confused.

"No bed?" His two year old voice was confused. Marcus smiled at the boy everyone believed was his son.

"Not now. I have to see who this new person is first. Be a good boy and wait a bit."

The little boy nodded, watching his father with big green eyes.

Marcus cradled the bundle against his chest and slowly undid the blankets.

'It can't be more than a week old!' he thought in despair as he watched the red face, and took in the umbilical cord still attached to its navel. The face wrinkled, and opened green and amber eyes, looking at his in interest. Opening the envelope neatly, he pulled out several sheets of paper. A letter, a birth certificate (which he noticed had him listed as the father), and a certificate that given a brief glance, gave him full custody of the child. Setting the papers down, he picked up the letter.

Please,

I would like you to look after my daughter. She was born on Halloween at 10pm. I am positive that you will provide her with a good life, Mr. Riddle At least a better existence than she would have with my pack and I. Her name is Tatiana. All you need to make her legally yours is in the envelope. Thank You.

There was no signature at the bottom of the letter. The words 'my pack' never left his mind. Grumbling about rude people he should hex into the next century, he looked at the other papers closer, gently bouncing the baby in his arm as she fell asleep.

"Well, meet your new sister." he said, resigned to his fate of raising two children as a single parent.

Harry clapped his hands excitedly as Marcus sighed. More nights to sit up with an upset child. He'd be lucky not to loose his sanity.

That night, Marcus tried to remember when it was that werewolves first had their transformation if they were born with the ability.

'I can suppress it until she's eleven, if the changes start when she's five, without causing her any harm. Natural werewolves only change when young if around other wolves, so five should be right. I'll have to get Fenrir when it comes down to it, ad then we can try to find her parents.' He thought grimly, before going to prepare a bottle for the baby he was sure would soon wake up and make enough noise to raise the dead.

TBC