He couldn't believe his luck, but he supposed only the charming Tom Riddle could coax such a valuable item from someone's hands.

Should he wake the man, no, he was feeling very giddy and weirdly generous tonight. Lord Voldemort will bestow him some mercy for giving him the potion. There was a perfect breeze rolling by. Such a warm October night. There was no wonder how people can get addicted to Felix Felicis. The feeling of the world rightfully beneath his feet filled his brain as he kept dragging the man on his shoulder into the forest. Once he was deep into the forest, used the levitation charm and pressed forward.

This was the perfect spot. A patch of clearing with moon drawing shadows onto the surrounding trees. The perfect material for his making. A man foolish enough to offer him Felix Felicis and his diadem extracted from this exact forest fifteen years ago, the one belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself, of the Founders Four. Everything felt right. Why he didn't feel like making the horcrux there and then in his first visit to Albania was finally explained. He just hasn't met the right victim and the right circumstances to complete the ritual. The Felix Felicis will be an added bonus to ensure nothing will go wrong tonight, along with his impeccable skill.

The rune was drawn and the words spoken. Now, only what is left is the spell.

"Avada Kedavra"

A familiar pain erupted from his body. The world went black and Tom Riddle's consciousness was gone with a small thud on the soft grass.

With a throbbing pain in his back of the head, Riddle reached with his right arm for the diadem. As he expected, the ritual was successful and he could feel the dark magic and his soul fragment securely bonded to the diadem. There were stars clouding his vision as he opened his eyes and made to sit up. But there was something heavy on his chest. Riddle shook his head and grabbed the wand inside his sleeve.

He could make out a fuzz of curly black mess in his vision. He grabbed at it.

A child. A child on his chest in a middle of Albanian woods. This was just absurd. Maybe the ritual was having a toll on him. The diary, the ring, the cup and now the diadem. He has yet to reach seven and already the Horcruxes were having effect on his magic, making it unstable. That was why he was taking his time with the diadem and the locket. Five is still a good magic number, not as preferable as seven but he would need to compromise. Waking up with a child, indeed, his sanity must be at stake as well.

The child was still there.

Riddle reached out to observe the being. How did it come to be where he is now? He felt no other presence in the woods last night. There was no way a child could have sneaked inside the ritual circle. And unsupervised, no less, such things could only happen in Albania with no proper magical authority at place, Riddle bemonstered.

Then his eyes fell on a fresh-looking scar on the child's forehead. It was still inflamed red with blood crusted on. A curse scar shaped of lightening. He let his magic examine the scar. The diagnosis only brought back more questions. The magic embedded in the scar felt distinctively like his own magic and a mangled soul piece which also felt like his.

He rushed to examine the now Horcrux-turned-diadem again. Nothing wrong here, the magic surrounding the soul piece was stable and the piece was cleanly cut, one-seventh of a whole. Now that he thought about it, he does have less than half of his original soul left in his body, which might explain this strange incidence. No, Lord Voldemort is not the weak and his mental state is perfectly stable.

He turned his attention back to child. It was breathing but with eyes neatly shut. Just as Tom Riddle was contemplating whether to shake the child, the boy yawned and opened his eyes.

It was the most delightful green orbs, Slytherin colours, which he approved. He could almost keep the child purely for aesthetic purposes. Well, definitely not the hair. The boy had similar colouring to his, of course, except the eyes, as his was brown. They could pass off as cousins, he supposed. His dealing with child was not done yet as his curiosity has just awoken.

"Legilimens"

Images of woman with red hair, accompanied by black-haired man flew by. A child laughing on a toy broom, a colourfully lit-up Christmas tree. And then there was the same three people in a dimly lit lounge. Then the door was ripped open and a hooded figure stepped in. The man shouted, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off." The woman grabbed the child and rushed up the stair and into a dark bedroom. She holds tight on the child in her arms and whispered, "You're going to be safe. Mommy will protect you. Everything will be fine. You'll get through this. Remember that your father and I love you so much... You are the sweetest little angel I've ever met. I..."

And the door slammed open. A dark figure strode in to the room. The mother quickly dropped the child into the cot and stood against it, trying to shield the child as much as possible. She pleaded out, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl. . . stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"This is my last warning."

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy. . . have mercy. . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything—"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

As Riddle thought it was getting too much, the ultimatum was said and the women dropped to the floor in green lights.

The wand then pointed directly at the child's face and the figure yelled out, "Avada Kedavra"

A/N: Direct quotes used from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Feedback on errors are most welcome :)