Slytherin
OCTOBER 2000—She was alone. Her family thought she was dead. She had to make her own way in the world.
So Alina started baby-sitting. She wasn't great with kids, but since she was now twenty-one and no longer had the Trace, she could use magic to keep them from bothering her. Apparently, the ability to make kids sleep was highly desirable, and Alina soon became a highly sought-after nanny. She flipped between three full-time positions, putting her Dozing Charms and Apparition abilities to best use. Hopefully she would quickly amass enough wealth to reenter respectable Wizarding Society.
Then she got to thinking. Wizards really didn't need nannies; they had House Elves to watch their children, unlike Muggles. In fact, most working-class Muggles willingly left their offspring in the care of near strangers for most of the day. Effectively, it was daycares that raised young Muggles and Mudbloods, and if a witch was to capitalize on that…why, she could teach children from the beginning that they were lesser than wizards. It would be easier to get them young, before they believed they were equal to Purebloods.
And so, Alina poured more into her babysitting business. She needed more employees, but few people with her belief system would lower themselves to nanny-duty. She widened her search and ended up turning down several applications: Besides being a half breed, Hagrid had a history of fire-related accidents, and paranoid as he was, Mad-Eye Moody seemed like the type to get into idiotic arguments with his charges. Then someone showed up on her doorstep, literally. He was a certain dark-haired, arrogant Slytherin; someone she thought was trapped in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Mr. Riddle," she beamed, bobbing a curtsy.
"Please, we are nearly equal," Tom said, taking her hand and gallantly kissing the back of it. His manners were carefully curated; one could barely tell he had grown up as an orphan. "May I enter?"
"You may."
He stepped over the threshold warily, his dark eyes missing nothing as they roved over the front hall of her modest cottage. Alina bobbed another curtsy. "I apologize for my humble abode, sir. It is all I can afford at present, though I am saving up."
His gaze snapped to focus on her. "Alina, it is lovely, given your… situation. And please, call me Voldemort."
Alina didn't want to contradict him, but… "There is already a Lord Voldemort, sir. I told you about him. You are his superior, but he has still made quite the name for himself, and everyone would say you were imitating him."
Tom scowled. "Then you may call me Tom, until I can devise a better name."
She nodded. "As you say."
"Now," he said, all traces of his foul mood disappearing as he turned his attention to the future. "I believe we have much to discuss."
She led him to a small, tastefully decorated parlor, and there she laid out her plan. Tom agreed to help her, to gain public goodwill for himself and establish a magnanimous image, but as it turned out, he was even worse with children than she was. It didn't help that he was currently wandless, or that babies were finicky and squirmy. Alina and Tom made a pact to never share how many babies he had dropped.
But life was going well.