A/N: Well, I decided to write a story that's been lurking in my head for quite some time now. I've always wanted more about Merope Gaunt. I think she's quite interesting, I mean, think about it, she's a CANON descendent of Salazar, NOT a Mary-Sue descendent, she's Voldie's mum, and she fits into the category of stupidly hyphenated names (Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Won, The-Only-One-He-Ever-Feared (Dumbles), The-Only-One-Who-Ever-Loved-Him). Note: Merope's mother calls her 'Merry', because I don't think her mother would call her three-year-old daughter by her long, difficult name, and I thought 'Merry' was a suitable nickname. I think she needs more fics. So here's mine.
See homepage for disclaimer. I do, however, own Mia Gaunt.
The Merope Chronicles
Chapter 1
The Girl in Grey
Merope Gaunt was born to Mia and Marvolo Gaunt.
Fate had never dealt a crueler hand.
She was not a pretty baby, years of inbreeding had seen to that, but she was sweet and happy. Her older brother, Morfin, adored her, and her mother loved her.
Our story picks up when Merope was but three, and this is, some have speculated, the defining moment that would shape – and continues to shape – the world.
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Flowers.
They were everywhere. Buttercups, violets, bluebells, daisies, snowdrops, a few late crocuses, and primroses. And, Merope being a three-year-old girl, there was only one course of action, picking armful after armful of them, presenting them to her mother, and somehow expecting her to squeeze all of them in the one vase that the Gaunts owned.
Merope finished picking the flowers, her arms chock-full of them, and made her way back to the small, two-roomed cottage that she called her home.
"Mother! I'm back! Guess what I got!" she yelled.
Her mother was at the fireplace, stirring that night's dinner – probably a stew of some sort.
"What is it, Merry?" she said, kneeling down to hug her daughter.
"Fwowers! Mother, I found this biiiiiig field," Merope held her arms apart, "And it was filled wif fwowers! I brought them home!"
Merope thrust her vividly-colored bunch of flowers into her mother's arms. Mia inhaled deeply, a smile lighting up her face.
"They're beautiful! Just the thing for the table, we'll put them in a vase for dinner," she said, "Go set the table, and if you do that I'll read Babbity Rabbity to you at bedtime."
"Pwomise?"
"Yes, I promise."
Some promises cannot be kept.
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A/N: Yes, I know I'm evil for ending it here, but I need more time to work on this before publishing the rest. Think of this as a prologue.