Voldemort has a daughter. Her name is Melody Prince, formally Melody Riddle, and she's nothing like Voldemort. She's kind, good, and hates to see anyone dying or injured; however, craziness apparently runs in the family, with Melody's hallucinations...
Inspired by the movie and book Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire written by J.K. Rowling.
The Slytherin Princess
Prologue
"How fastidious you've become, Wormtail. As I recall, you once called the nearest gutter pipe home. Could it be that the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you?" a voice hissed amid the shadows of a house that belonged to Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he is now known, himself.
"Oh, no. No, no, my Lord Voldemort. I only meant...p-perhaps if we were to do it w-without the b-boy," a different voice stuttered. Whoever was the owner of the voice seemed to be cowering in fear.
"No, the boy is everything! It cannot be done without him. And it will be done. Exactly as I said."
"I will not disappoint you, my Lord."
"Good. First, gather our old comrades. Send them a sign," the first voice ordered. A long green viper slithered in the direction of the voice, hissing as she did so. "Nagini informs me that the old Muggle caretaker is standing just outside the door. Step aside, Wormtail, so that I can give our guest a proper greeting. Avada Kedavra!"
The house erupted with green light, and then a blanket of darkness fell over everything.
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Some may have said that the Riddle house was damp and condemned to hell. Once the most elegant manor around now was shabby and disturbing. Most of all, doomed and abandoned. To me, that was my home. The only place I had ever known. I was always too frightened to repair it, despite the tiles missing from the roof, windows boarded, and ivy unfurling as it hugged the walls. There was no telling what he would do.
One night in August, I had a restless sleep. I heard a bang and the voices muttering, and even with my eyes closed, a blinding green light flashed. I knew what that meant. He was up to something. I sat up in my bed and prayed for whoever had died, having a feeling that it was our innocent Muggle caretaker, as his scream ricocheted throughout the house even after it and the voices were repeating "mockingbird" over and over. He would kill anyone and everything. I still prayed for every life lost.
