THE HOUSE THAT RIDDLE CRASHED AT

By KT SHY and Shag Dowg

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, but I sure wish I owned Pringles! - KT SHY

Friday

Lucius Malfoy paced around the hallway of his big, fancy house. He was irritated, no, he was furious. What in the world had he done – aside from the obvious – to deserve such a curse to fall upon his home? He gritted his teeth and thought about the damn thing that was the cause of his present demeanor. A single package… the smallest of packages…

He had been trying to figure out where his wife had hidden his collection of naughty magazines when he stumbled upon it. A small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and tied with yellow twine. It was addressed to him from "He Who Must Not Be Post-Scripted." Uh oh. One of his boss' many aliases. The date stamped on the package was a short time after that eventful Halloween when Lord Voldemort had vanished and the Ministry began its systematic round up all the Death Eaters. In all the confusion that had ensured, it was no wonder the arrival of a small plain package should go unnoticed, only to resurface eleven years later.

He had tentatively opened the package to find a small book - a diary. What the…? He wasn't sure why his master had sent him His diary, and didn't really want to find out why, but in the end curiosity and a vague hope he'd find something funny took over.

Lucius stopped mid pace and narrowed his eyes. Why oh why did he open that diary? Pace. Pace. Pace.

He had lifted the cover and out popped Voldemort Jr., smiling like a maniac and posing up a storm. His actual name was Tom Riddle and he had explained he was the memory of Voldemort's younger self, manifested in the body of a sixteen-year-old. Not that that made him any less annoying, but at least he was easier to look at than yucky ol' Voldie. Truth be told, he even bared an uncanny resemblance to that Potter brat his son Draco was always whining about… minus the goofy glasses and trademark scar mind you.

Lucius stopped pacing again when he realized he had made a hole in the afghan, and peered into the living room. There was Riddle, sprawled on the couch with a tube of Pringles in one hand and a remote in the other, eyes glued the big screen TV… zapping up the cable bills. That's it.

'Don't you do anything!?' Lucius growled at the boy. 'Money don't grow on trees you know!'

Tom Riddle tilted back his head to look at the man, annoyance etched on his young face. 'Can't you respect me for who I am!? Or who I will be?' He shook at his empty tube of Pringles. 'Yo! Where's all the pringles?'

'We don't have anymore.'

'What the hell ya' mean we're outta pringles!?'

'If you want them so bad why don't you get them yourself?' Lucius hissed through clenched teeth.

'What the hell am I, your maid!?' Riddle shouted and waved his arms for emphasis, 'Can't YOU push your weight around more often? All you do is Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! You'll never amount to anything!'

Lucius Malfoy resisted the urge to blow up his future boss on the spot right there.

One hippopotamus, two hippopotamus, three hippopotamus…

Saturday

Draco Malfoy sat on the sweet leather couch in his home living room watching the big screen TV with avid concentration. So intent was he in his viewings that he didn't notice Riddle come in even when the older boy plopped right beside him.

Tom Riddle looked at the fair-haired boy. What was his name again? Dungheep? Dorko? Dorko, that's it!

'Woah, hey! Price is Right is on! Switch the channel!' he demanded.

Draco protested. 'No! You get it 23/7, this is my only TV time!'

Riddle turned and shouted out into the hall, 'Yo Mr. M! Your son's watching fruity cartoons and being difficult!'

Lucius Malfoy's voice was heard from far off in the house, 'Deal with it!'

Put off by the lack of support from his provider, Riddle turned back to Draco and eyed the remote. 'Give it!'

'Make me!' the younger boy challenged.

Riddle narrowed his eyes. 'You wanna fresh one?'

'You wouldn't dare!'

Riddle quickly raised his hand as if to strike Draco, who immediately sped off screaming leaving little puffs of smoke in his wake.

'S'right!' You get yo' ass off my couch!'

Within a matter of seconds Lucius Malfoy stamped into the room.

'What did you do to my son!?' he growled.

'I scared the piss outta him…' Riddle began until he saw the red and purple blotches cross Lucius' face, 'uh… I mean he went off mumbling about you being such a sadistic bastard 'n all. You not raisin' that kid right, he's going down the wrong path. Bad parenting I say. Bad parenting.'

Sunday

Okay, this is getting stupid, thought Lucius. He looked into the bathroom mirror and was not at all pleased at what he saw. His face once proud and strong was now haggard and lined with tension. Dammit, Riddle had only been there for a few days, and just look at the toll it was having on him!

He grimaced. Riddle hadn't even left the stupid couch except for one or two brief breaks during the course of his stay at the Malfoy house! What was wrong with that kid? How could he be the living memory of a younger Voldemort!? Voldemort was ambitious! He was cunning! He was clever! Then again, there could be no real sane reason behind His sending the diary to Lucius…

Lucius sighed and headed toward the kitchen where the meal was prepared. His wife and son were already seated and Riddle was in the process of slapping some stuff onto a plate to take back to the living room, when he looked at Lucius.

'Hey Mr. M…' Riddle began, but Lucius cut off whatever nonsensical babble he was about to spurt out with a loud bark.

'Ya know Mr. M' he continued anyway, 'you're really uptight. You should get yo' self a woman…' (Narcissa Malfoy choked on her drink) '…move out to the country, raise a couple kids, get rid of this stupid thing…' he emphasized this last part by pointing a thumb at Draco.

'Seriously, how old are you anyway?' Riddle peered closely at Lucius' lined face. 'Seventy? Eighty? Yo' too old! Don't you think it's about time you consider retirement? Old age homes, grandpa shacks n' all?'

'I'm thirty-six.' Lucius growled.

Riddle sighed in that annoyingly condescending way, 'Well tha's not too young to be considering Norwich Union. Who knows what could happen to you? You should be considering yer loved one's ya know. '

Breakfast had been an excruciatingly uncomfortable affair that morning. Narcissa kept nervously glancing at her husband while he stabbed savagely at his fruitcake with a spoon, giggling quietly to himself between muttered curses.

Lucius had finally calmed himself enough to dress for work. He was on the verge of heading out the door when Riddle called out to him

'Hey Mr. M, hope you don't mind, I joined the Columbia Record Club using your name and credit card.'

'YOU…DID…WHAT!?' Lucius was absolutely livid.

'Hey, don't get all prissy with me! I'm just the messenger, you don't shoot the messenger, guy!' Riddle defended.

'Why do you need C.D's!' Lucius raged, 'We don't even have a C.D player!'

A frown creased Riddle's face. 'C.D's? C.D Players? What would YOU know about any of that non-wizarding stuff… unless you are a … dum, dum, dum… MUGGLE SYMPATHISER!'

'No… uh… never!' Lucius looked nervous. He then quickly headed out the door.

'Heh, that shut him up.' Riddle said.

Monday

Lucius Malfoy had had a loooooooooong day and the heat of these summer months was starting to wear him down. The nights weren't that bad, but there were other things he'd rather be doing than staying cooped up in a stuffy office on a hot day. At present time it was well passed midnight (the Ministry always seemed to be in an uproar about something or other these days… probably Harry Potter's fault. Damn kid). Lucius stumbled up the stairs with the intent of dropping off next to his sleeping wife still wearing his business clothes when he felt a disturbance in the Force.

Tom Riddle was watching something on the big screen TV, the various lights bouncing off the screen and onto his pale face in the dark room. Lucius stumbled bleary eyed into the living room.

'It's 3a.m! Will you shut that crap off and go to bed!?' the older man shouted.

Riddle looked up with a smile on his face. 'Sorry Mr. M, but I just cracked open a new tube of pringles! You know what they say… "once you pop, the fun don't stop!"

Lucius' jaw dropped.

'Want one?' They're "Spicy Cajan"…' Riddle put on the commercialized song voice, 'I poot a thpell o' you…'

Lucius was already heading up the stairs, 'I'm going to bed.'

'… BECUZ YO' MIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNE!'

The next morning Lucius walked into the living room groggy from a lousy sleep caused by all the stress and aggravation he had been suffering lately. Tom Riddle's eyes peered up from behind a tube of Pringles, his long legs spread across the black leather couch.

'You know Mr. M, my love of Muggles begins and ends with pringles!' he said between bites, spitting crumbs all over the upholstery

Lucius stared at the dark haired boy. Then:

'WHY DON'T YOU GO GET A JOB!?' Lucius exploded.

'WHY DON'T YOU SIT ON THIS!?' Riddle screamed back giving Lucius the "one finger salute".

Tuesday

Lucius Tomgireskoken – for that is his middle name – Malfoy strode out of the kitchen with the Daily Prophet under one arm, and a half-finished mug of coffee in his hand. He had every intent of passing quickly by the living room and reading the paper out on the porch to enjoy the morning air, when:

'Yo Mr. M! I just got this great idea for an evil name!"

That interested Lucius. Could it be the little brat was finally starting to take his role as the Lord Of All That Is Evil more seriously? Lucius turned the corner and looked down at Tom Riddle's smiling face.

'I tried rearranging my name and all. How's this?' The boy produced a wand from his pocket and traced it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once more, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

RAMDORLOVOLIDEMT

Lucius was speechless.

'Strikes fear into your heart, eh?' Riddle grinned. "I guess it could use some conjunctions or somethin'… Yo! You remember the song don'cha? "Conjunction, junction, what's your function…"

Lucius snapped.

'IT'S I AM LORD VOLDEMORT, OKAY!? I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! GET IT!?!?!?!?'

Tom Riddle stared at Lucius Malfoy. '… yyyyyyo. You've put a lot of time into thinking 'bout this haven't you? Get a life! Don't you have anything better to do?'

That did it. Lucius could take no more. He had to get outside quick before the urge to throttle the boy became too great. He was about to do just that when Riddle hailed him again.

'Yo, I tried that word thing with your name too. Guess what I got!' Riddle's long fingers grasped the wand again and waved it through the air:

LUCIUS TOMGIRESKOKEN MALFOY

With another flick of the wand, this changed to:

I LIKE TO SUCK MALE FROGS… YUM

'WHAT!?' Lucius shrieked.

Riddle pulled a quick defense. 'Woah, woah Mr. M, at least I didn't tell you what your son's name is… that'd be nasty!'

Wednesday

Tom Riddle awoke bright and early as usual, looking forward to a productive day of pringle munching, TV watching, and Malfoy harassing. He stretched out his arms and they hit something. Odd. He opened two bright eyes to see that the ceiling had apparently closed in on him. Apparently the walls had too. Weird, he thought. It was kind of like when he'd been stuck in that sucky diary for all those years. Heh heh…Uh oh.

'Mr. M?' his voice sounded muffled in his own ears. "H… hello? Mr. M? Jokes over, I get it!"

Nothing.

'Mr. M…? Hellooooooo? Dammit! What an ingrate!'

The least Lucius Malfoy could have done was left him a couple tubes of Pringles, or maybe even a selection from his naughty magazine collection. Tom Riddle sighed. It was going to be a looooooooooooooooong wait.