Chapter 3

Tom Marvolo Riddle was sat alone in his study, looking pensively at nothing in particular.

He was very happy to be back, living as a spirit of sorts had been difficult and maddening, but having no way to be close to his daughter was painful, he missed his Hermione so much.

It hadn't been hard to find out what she had been up to, Hermione Granger was very well known, mostly as the best friend of Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter, but he also heard her referred as the Brightest witch of her age, which was much better.

Having to part with his barely 2 years old daughter had been harrowing and heartbreaking but he knew his time was up, and the situation had been unstable.

His return hadn't been believed, the boy was lauded as a liar and crazy in the papers, spewing an insane story of a cemetery. Tom knew the story wasn't true but he was also pretty sure Potter truly believed it. He wasn't sure what Albus was up to with this twist, surely he would have more to gain if people believed his golden boy, Tom mused.

The death of the Diggory boy was unexpected, Tom was sure he was very much alive when he came back to Hogwarts, he suspected what, or more likely who, at happened to kill the boy.

Hermione's position was publicly crystal clear, she was very much in Albus' manipulative little hands. The fucking Order of the Phoenix.

He knew Jean would most likely tell her about him at some point this summer but he had no idea what to expect, as his Hermione was known as the muggleborn best friend of the boy who supposedly defeated him before he could talk.

He was getting quite desperate, and sad. He missed her and was pretty sure she hated him. Loathed him really.

His pity party was interrupted by a few pecks on the study's window.

He didn't recognise the owl, but his wards would have stopped any owls carrying dangerous parcels so he opened the window, took the letter the small black owl carried and watched as she immediately flew away.

While his wards were good, he didn't want to take any chances, and scanned the rolled parchment with every detection spell he knew, the only thing coming back was a charm to ensure he was the only one able to read the letter, intriguing.

He took a breath and opened the letter.

"Dear Voldemort, You-Know-Who, Tom, Father ?

I have no idea what to call you, no idea what is real anymore honestly.

This summer started with the return of Voldemort, Harry traumatised in a cemetery, a participant in a creepy dark ritual to get you a new body and Cedric dying.

Which was bad enough.

Then mum, well Jean, godmother extraordinaire should I say, went up and shattered my entire world with this insane story about you and her.

I do believe her, or at least believe she believes what she's saying, and I did read the letter you sent back in 1981.

I am confused, angry, shattered, and resigned really.

I don't really know who I am anymore, Harry Potter's muggleborn best friend and daughter of the Dark Lord doesn't quite fit together, now, does it?

I don't think I even know who you are anymore, that letter, the weird cemetery thing and everything mum told me, well it doesn't really make sense with who you are supposed to be.

I'd like to meet you, I hear Narcissa Malfoy was the one who dropped me off but the Malfoy have been nothing but abusive bigots to me, so I'd like to meet you as far away from them as possible.

Tell me when, where, before September 1st.

I need answers.

With my reluctant acceptance of the fuckery that is my life apparently,

Hermione Jean Granger/Riddle?"

With a slow smile, Tom rolled up the parchment and wondered where the little chit got her audacity, then started to chuckle.

Hermione Jean Riddle indeed.

He couldn't wait.