Disclaimer: Hey, guess what?I still own nothing.

A/N: Thank you to all of you faithful reviewers. I love reading your reviews. They make me happy. : ) I appreciate those of you who bother to write a review for me and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things have been a little crazy, so I haven't been able to update this as much as I'd have liked. Hopefully I'll get a little better at updating it regularly.

Knockturn Alley was known for its shadiness. Everyone in England knew that only dark magic was performed there. It was a dangerous place. A place that any stranger would not want to go in, expecting to feel welcomed. I had never actually been to Knockturn Alley before. I heard rumors about it, and my mother warned me multiple times on what would happen to me if I even considered venturing inside of it. I just never imagined exactly how dark and creepy the place actually was.

Dark and creepy were actually understatements. The place was full of witches and wizards, bent over from old age, trying to pick your pockets, and sell you trash off of the streets. No one there looked even remotely familiar. I got that familiar feeling of regret well up inside of me. Of course I never thought about my actions before I did something. I never was exactly wonderful at thinking things through.

My mind told me to turn around and head back to the twins' shop. However my feet just weren't keen on that idea. They kept going, leading me through long, narrow, cobble-stoned alleyways. Even the temperature was different here. In Diagon Alley, a nice warm breeze floated through the air. Here it was cold. It was summer, but it felt like winter in Knockturn Alley. Everything was darker here too. I don't think the sun ever found its way into this place.

"Lost, my pretty?" I turned my head abruptly, in the direction of this strange new voice. It was the first person that actually stopped to talk to me. Others just gawked, and tried to get their slimy hands into my pockets. No one had actually bothered to say anything.

"N-no." I winced at how pathetic and small my own voice sounded in my ears. Moments when I'm unsure of myself are rare, and I never stutter. Rory Potter just doesn't do that! She keeps herself calm, cool, and collected. But this day was just full of surprises, now wasn't it?

"Well then, dear, what's a young girl like you doing out in a place like this?" The grin that crossed the old woman's face, sent a shiver straight up my spine. It isn't like I'm afraid of people. I'm pretty brave. Not brave like my parents were, but I usually use sarcasm or wit for my self defense mechanism. Something about this lady just threw me off completely. She seemed innocent and nice enough. But she was dirty. I don't judge a book by its cover. I never had. The woman had dirt swept all across her face, and it was tangled into her gray hair. Her appearance was anything but appealing. Her hands were wrinkled, and showed their age without hesitation. One of them was wrapped securely around a cane, which the other clung to a ripped shawl that hung messily around her shoulders. It looked more like a burlap bag then an item of clothing.

"I…" What was I doing? I didn't have to answer this lady! Plus, if my mother found out about this, I would probably never be able to leave my house again. Giving her one last look, I hurriedly walked away. I refused to look back. I figured it was like an animal; if you look back at it, it'll follow you. There was no chance I wanted that woman following me. Who knew what she was capable of doing?

After I was a safe distance away from where she was, I stopped, and looked around at my surroundings. I had no idea as to where I was. I had been through so many passageways, that I couldn't just turn back and retrace my footsteps. This was bad. Panic slowly started to take hold of me. I was stuck in this awful place, with no one, no money, and I didn't have my wand. Yes, this was definitely a situation that wasn't looking too good. The only thing on my side was my father. Actually, I never thought that I would ever say that in my life. My father knew that I had run from the store. He didn't know where I ran to, exactly, but surely he had some brains in him somewhere. So as long as he knew that I had left, he would come and find me. Right? I certainly hoped so.

I didn't know what to do. If I just sat there on the ground, I could be found more easily. However, if I just sat there, then someone could just come by and kill me or something. I wouldn't put it past this place. The people that live here, if that's even what they call it, are so sinister, that I wouldn't doubt it if they tortured passersby for a living.

Unfortunately for me, I didn't have to think about what I was going to do for very long. Before I had time to react, a hand covered my mouth, and someone pulled me into a straw hut behind a few buildings. Yes, that's exactly how it happened. Or that's how I remembered it, anyways. To be truthful, I don't think I'd ever been so afraid in my life. I had no idea who my captor was, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. No wonder why my mother told me never to come here. I thought she was just trying to intimidate me. Who knew it was actually for my own good?

"Look who we have here." The person who had grabbed me had let go, and turned me around to face the speaker. He was a boy, no older than me, with dark brown hair. His eyes were slit dangerously, and burned a deep black. If the hut hadn't been so poorly lit, then I would have been able to see a snake behind him. I didn't though, which was probably for the best.

"Miss Potter." The name was spoken with so much venom and distaste, that I nearly recoiled at the sound of it. Whoever this boy was, he clearly knew me, and clearly didn't like me all that much. It probably had something to do with my father. My stupid father. What could he have possibly done now to make this boy hate me so much?

"I suppose I should introduce myself. I never was one for manners, though. I say we play a little game, yes?" The tone of his voice was precariously low, daring me to contradict him.

My eyes grew wide in fear and they darted to the door. I tried to reason out an escape. Although I wasn't good at Quidditch, I wasn't a bad runner. I might have been able to make it. If I didn't, I knew that the boy wouldn't be very pleased. So what was I to do?

"Don't even think about it, sweetheart." He hissed, walking over to me. He trailed one of his cold fingers against my jaw line, and fixed me with a glare. "You'd never make it out alive, anyways." The way he spoke terrified me. My body was trembling, and I was positive that all the color had drained from my face. I wanted to come up with some caustic reply, to throw him off, even just a little, but no words managed to escape my mouth. I simply looked at him, with horror written all over my face.

"Now, let's begin, shall we?"

I blinked my eyes, but made no attempt to answer him. It was then that I realized he meant business. He came over to me, lifted my chin up, and pulled on my hair. The pull wasn't horrible, but it made me open my mouth.

"Yes." I murmured softly, closing my eyes to stifle the new tears that had formed from the hair pull.

"Very good." He barked, sneering at me evilly, finding satisfaction in my discomfort. "I'm the son of your father's worst nightmare. I'm the son of the man who your father attempted to kill on numerous occasions, but failed. Well, that is until the last battle, of course. Harry Potter managed to kill my father, but he won't manage to save you. I've come for revenge."

As his words registered in my brain, more tears leaked out of my eyes. "Riddle?" I whispered, in a barely audible voice.

"Very good, sweetheart."

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