Chapter 1

AN: JKR owns all.

Entering the small falth, Tom hastily locked the door and waved his wand to close the window. He slipped the items out of his coat pocket, briefly admiringly them before placing them in his trunk. He finally had them: Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Now he could leave his mundane job at Borgin and Burke's and look for Ravenclaw's diadem. The ghost had told him almost the precise location of where she had dropped it. Feeling triumphant, he poured a shot of firewhiskey. That's when he saw the letter that had been shoved under his door.

Taking two long strides, he walked across the bare apartment and retrieved the letter. It was addressed to him and had come through the muggle post. Flipping it over, he saw it was from the orphanage. Odd, he thought. Why would they write to him? He sat against the wall in disbelief as he read the letter. This can't be possible.

XXX

Lucy Ravenfeld had been a peer of Tom's at Hogwarts. They were both Slytherins and in the same year, though he had never paid much attention to her — until their sixth year. There was a lull in his research. He had traced his roots and disposed of them the previous summer. He was focused on creating seven horcruxes, but was searching for the right objects. He'd decided on using the founder's mementos. However, that had brought him right back to the genealogy section of the library.

It was Christmas break of 1942 and, as usual, he had stayed at Hogwarts. That year, she had too. She first caught his attention because it was unusual for the pureblood students in his house to stay behind. It was even more unusual for members of his house to spend their free time in the library. Some of them may have possessed mild intelligence, but most of it was devoted to scheming and creating witty retorts. Curious, he approached her.

Within a few minutes of speaking with her, he found she was more intelligent than he had initially thought. However, she wasn't anything particularly special. Sure, she was attractive with her bright blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and slight figure. But she also began acting like all the other girls the more they talked: flirty and foolish. It had not been hard to seduce her, nor had it been difficult to get rid of her. He hadn't thought of her again once classes resumed.

He was across the street from the orphanage, watching the children play in the yard. There were fewer children than when he had lived here, which made sense. The letter had said they were closing the orphanage. He wondered why Lucy hadn't tried to tell him before, but was more interested in how she had found out about this place. Tom noticed one of the smaller girls standing off to the side. She looked a little unsure of how to interact with the others, though they did not seem to be excluding her.

He wasn't sure why he'd come. He didn't care what happened to the child. He supposed he was only curious. The place hadn't changed much in the few years since he'd been gone. Everything was grey: grey buildings, grey streets, and grey fences. The play area was mostly dead grass and discarded toys. He sighed, pushing himself off the wall, deciding to get it over with. He crossed the street and noticed the small girl join the others in a game of tag.

A girl not much older than him answered the door. Her red hair was falling out of the ponytail and she looked exhausted. Her surprise at seeing him soon gave way to embarrassment over her messy appearance.

"Can I help you?" she asked, regaining some of her composure.

"I received a letter from Mrs. Cole. She asked to speak to me about a child residing here."

A look of distress passed through her eyes. "Are you Mr. Riddle?"

"Yes," he said curtly, growing more impatient by the moment.

"Mrs. Cole's just stepped out, but if you follow me I have all the paperwork she wanted you to look over."

He sighed irritably, but followed her in just the same. They walked through the small entryway and up the narrow flight of stairs. It was a familiar walk for Tom. He had been called to Cole's office more than once when he'd lived here. The girl paused to unlock the office door, stepping aside to let him in.

"All the paperwork is on the desk. You can look it over while I go fetch the girl."

He began to say that wouldn't be necessary, but she closed the door before he could get a word out. He sat in the visitor's chair and picked up the envelope labeled with his name: It was from Lucy.

May 19, 1948

Riddle,

I'm sure you have many questions, but the answers are irrelevant. Simply know that you are not the only one capable of extensive research, which is why I have left our daughter at your former "home."

At some point or another, I reckon you noticed my absence from Hogwarts. Once my family found out I was pregnant, they disowned me and I was forced to leave school. While I may not have shown the best decision making skills that Christmas, I promise I am quite intelligent.

You see I became ill not long ago. Exiled from the magical world, I went to a muggle clinic. Their doctors told me I had cancer. I was told it could be fatal without treatment, which is expensive. I could not afford it, rent, and care for Charlotte, our daughter. I could not find a magical remedy for it either, only potions for temporary pain relief. I left Charlotte at the orphanage when I could no longer care for her.

Charlotte was born September 13, 1943. She is five years old. Tom, I am under no delusion that you have any interest in being a father. Therefore, I have only one thing to ask of you. I need you to find her a family that will love her. I don't care if they're muggle or magical. I know you have ways of making things happen, no questions asked. Use whatever means necessary to find her a suitable home.

Please take care of her and give her my love.

Lucy Ravenfeld

Tom had barely finished reading when there was a quiet knock on the door. Without thinking, he said, "Enter."

"Hello, sir," a quiet voice said. Tom turned to see the young girl from the yard. Unlike most children at the orphanage, she had a neat appearance. Her dark dress and shoes, though old, were clean and her hair was combed (he suspected the girl who led him to the office had combed it before sending the girl). "Miss Wesley said you wanted to see me."

"Yes," he said hesitantly. He had never been comfortable talking to children, not even when he'd been one. "Do you know who I am?"

"Miss Wesley said your name was Mr. Riddle and you're a friend of my mum's," she said. "Have you come to take me to visit her? Usually Auntie Jane takes me to the cemetery."

"Auntie Jane?" Tom asked, confused.

"She and Mummy worked together. Are we going to see her?" The girl sounded oddly enthused about visiting a cemetery. Tom reckoned this Jane person also took her do something fun while they were out.

"Charlotte, how long have you been here?"

"I don't know," she said, trying to count on her fingers. "It feels like forever, but Mrs. Cole says it's only bee a few weeks."

"And why are you here and not with Auntie Jane?"

"She's sick too, but not the same sick as Mum."

Tom took a moment to really look at the girl. Being only five, it was difficult for him to decide who she looked like more. They had both been pale, but she did have his dark hair and features. Her long dark hair even had a slight curl to it like his did if it grew too much. Though when he looked closely, he could see a much younger version of Lucy.

"Go pack your things and meet me downstairs," he said, surprising himself. "We'll go see your mother, but you won't be coming back here."

"Where will I be going?" she asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

"You're going to live with me."

XXX

Tom stood at the end of the row of graves. She was talking rather animatedly to a plain stone plaque in the ground. He couldn't explain to himself what he was doing with the girl. His plans did not accommodate her tagging along. Besides, his enemies could try to use his daughter against him, and that would become such an annoying hindrance. But she was a part of him. And a descendent of Slytherin. He couldn't think of any kind of person who had the right to raise a descendent of Slytherin.

"Charlotte! It's time to go!" he called. He needed to get out of the country tonight. She got up immediately and waved good-bye to the headstone. Well, at least she's obedient, he thought. As she walked to him, he noticed her twirling around a weed she probably thought was a flower.

What am I doing with a child?

"Where are we going?" she asked, stopping next to him.

"Somewhere new," he said, picking her up. "Have you ever apparated before with your mother?"

She gave him a blank look and shook her head.

"Er, been somewhere one minute and somewhere else the next," he said, trying to simplify the concept, a task he found frustrating.

"Is that the one where there's a loud pop?"

"Yes. Did your mother travel that way with you?"

"No."

"Well, that's how we're going to travel. You'll be uncomfortable for an only moment, but there's no reason to be upset or cry about it, understand?"

"Mmhmm," she said, though she looked nervous and clung tighter to him.

Tom stiffened. He hated contact with other people. His natural instinct was to pull away, but he realized he would have to tolerate it a bit if he was going to have a child around. He turned on the spot and apparated to the small cottage in the middle of a forest in Albania. There was a village several miles away that he could go to for provisions, but far enough away that no one would bother him. The cottage and its location reminded him of the Gaunts' house; however, it was in much better condition.

He set down the girl on the living room floor. With a wave of his wand there was a fire roaring and the cottage was lit. He waved his wand again and expanded the second floor to create a bedroom and bathroom. He would replicate his bedroom furniture so that she would have somewhere to sleep in a bit. Tom figured he should feed her and explain the rules first.

"Come Charlotte," he said, setting her bag against the couch. "Let's have some dinner."