He was running hard, the basket bouncing against his side. The snow crunched loudly under his boots, no doubt telling his pursuers exactly where he was, but his only concern was distance. He had to get enough distance between them and him that he could get the basket somewhere safe, where they wouldn't see it.
He knew he was never going to make it out of this mess alive. He could always Apparate away from them, but they would still catch him sooner or later. And he was so very, very tired of running.
He rounded the bend and a towering orphanage sat at the bend of the street, a single flickering streetlamp illuminating the stoop. He sprinted up the steps and placed the basket down.
"I'm sorry," the man in the cloak said, bending over the basket. Inside, quiet cries were heard. "It's only for you. You'll be safe."
He looked at the folded note in his hand, rereading the words he had so carefully written only an hour before.
Her mother died last evening.
Her father was killed tonight.
Her name is Bellatrix Riddle.
She's special.
Keep her safe.
The man looked at his daughter, tears in his eyes, and held her tiny fingers close in his hand. She stopped crying a moment, her green eyes peering up at him from under thick, dark hair. She had her grandfather's hair, and her mothers eyes. Pain filled his chest; it wasn't fair to her, to leave her an orphan, but the men pursuing him would never give him the chance to explain. They would never believe him if he said he was innocent. He stared into her wide innocent eyes, considering the option to keep running. He could, after all. He could keep running indefinitely if he wanted to, and take her with him. But would that be fair for her? A life on the run, condemned because of who her father was? No, it was better this way; it was better to let her grow up away from this madness. Maybe one day they would find her, a tiny witch, and think her Muggleborn -- it would save her from this madness.
That's what any good father would do, wouldn't he? Give their child every chance they had. He held her tiny hand and his heart swelled, making him question the decision he was making. But no; this was best for her. He knew it deep in the pit of his stomach.
He let her go, put her on the step, and rang the doorbell of the orphanage before vanishing into the shadows. Behind him, he could hear her tiny cries.
"There he is!" a yell came from down a side street. "Fire at will!"
Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr turned to face the band of wizards that closed in on him, spread his arms, and closed his eyes. Green light flashed on the inside of his eyelids as a dozen voices echoed in his ears.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Albus Potter and the Dark Lord's Heir by Alexandryne
Chapter Notes: ~Nine Years after the Battle of Hogwarts~