Daughter In The Dark
"Class dismissed." I heard as a loud bell pierced the eerily quiet classroom. Up until a few minutes ago, I had been working, alone, mind you, on a very dull, very tedious, paper on what the purpose of a telephone was. Professor Gildywaddle had forbidden us o speak, and after her close encounters with breakdowns the days before, the class had decided to give the woman a break.
I could feel the Gryffindor's getting ready to leave, and could almost hear Harry Potter and his cronies murmuring to themselves about 'bloody Slytherin's.'
As I stashed my books in my bag, my friend Jamie passed me with a wave over her shoulder.
"See later, Stephanie." She said, obviously rushing off to go snog her boyfriend in the Slytherin Common Room, or worse, in his dorm.
I suppose I should introduce myself, huh?
Well, I'm thinking you've heard of Lord Voldemort, I mean, who hasn't?
And maybe you've been told about Melanie Collins, his murdered wife?
Well, I'm willing to bet you twenty galleons you haven't heard of me yet.
My name is Stephanie Collins, and I am the Dark Lord's daughter.
Hear that ominous music, the soundtrack that was slowly building up to a deafening crescendo as I exaggerated? Yeah? This is the point, if my life were a movie, where you would gasp and hold your hands over your heart in dramatic surprise.
See, my mom and dad met at Hogwarts, and had me once they married. Apparently, after I was born, my mom was killed in crossfire between two wizards, and my dad didn't want me. Hence the fact that I grew up with Ministry officials until I went off to Hogwarts. I haven't met my dad yet, well, I have, I just can't remember it, but I'm pretty sure he wanted me. Operative words here being "pretty sure".
Anyways, I got my Hogwarts letter, which was a given, I had shown signs of wizardry at a pretty young age, not to mention I could speak Parseltongue, which is a pretty useless skill, by the way, and I was whisked off on the Hogwarts express. It was all pretty normal, you know, for a childhood; it wasn't like I grew up around my dad.
"Stephanie Collins?" I heard from behind me. Whipping around, I faced a first year that looked about ready to wet his pants. Hufflepuff, by the colors on his robes, figures, they'd never been to brave.
"What?" Snapping was never a really good tone for me.
"Prof- Prof- Professor Dumbledore wants t- to see y- you in his office." He held out a piece of parchment tied with a green ribbon, and his hand was shaking fearfully, as if I was going to hex him with a horrible curse or something.
"Right." Snatching the letter from his hand, I recognized my name scrawled in barely readable writing. The Hufflepuff boy scampered off as I ripped the gold Hogwarts seal from its place and scanned the content. It was odd, I had never been in the Headmaster's office, let alone asked to been seen by him.
Miss Collins; the letter started out.
It is of extreme importance you come see me immediately. I like acid pops.
Headmaster Dumbledore
I never got to find out what the inside of Albus Dumbledore's office looked like, however, because as soon as I pocketed the letter, a man appeared in front of me with a wand pressed to my neck.
An invisibility cloak was thrown over the both of us (I was just aching to try and act out Clay Aiken songs under it) and I was escorted out of the gate that initiated where Hogwarts grounds ended, and we disappeared with a small pop.
It's a funny thing, side along apparition is. I mean, it isn't like a portkey, there was no tugging at my navel, and it wasn't like the floo system, in which I felt as if I had no sense of direction, and it most definitely was not the smooth feeling of flying a broom. Instead, it felt as if I was being pressed between four walls that were tightening around my body as if to squish me to death.
Finally, the sensation stopped and I found myself, again, being manhandled by a man with greasy black hair and a nose that was wrinkled up as if smelling something utterly disgusting. I choked back a laugh when I realized who the man was.
"Professor Snape?" I asked, barely managing to make noise come out of my throat.
He gave me a look that made me want to stop my inside laughter, for fear if I let out a bellow, he would have my head right there and then.
I suppose I should have been scared, being in an unknown place with my shoulder being grasped in Severus Snape's enormous hand, but the presence of a Professor made me feel calm. Good thing too, when I panic I scream. Loudly. Very loudly, and it's pandemonium.
Just then, I got I better look at my surroundings. It looked like a library, no, a study. A large bookshelf was placed along the wall to my right. I eyed the titles and things like, 'Dark magic for dummies' and 'Dark Wizards through Time' stared back at me. Along the back wall was a desk worthy of belonging to an evil mastermind, and in front of it two plush chairs. The study was dark, being lit by two ceiling lamps, and it had a sort of dark and dreary air about it.
"Oh my god." I squealed like a child when I saw the bookcase part. I saw things like this before, but this was just starting to look like an old horror movie of some sort. Professor Snape had been waiting patiently, I realized, and the scowl that I thought was a permanent feature disappeared to make a face with no emotion.
A man stepped out, and I was shocked. He has a very bald head that looked almost bleached, and two gleaming blood red eyes. His nose was nonexistent, instead there were two slits. He was tall, well, taller than my five seven self and he looked in shape for an old man. Right away, however, I sensed this man was more than just an average wizard.
"Severus." He greeted my Professor icily, and then his eyes ran over my face, not even noticing the low bow Severus Snape performed, letting go of my arm for a moment.
"And you must be… Stephanie." My face was probably formed into a look mixed between shock and confusion because he motioned for us to sit on the chairs across his desk. I sank into the green velvet, trying to hide myself incase he planned to kill me- I mean, why else would I have been brought here for?
Taking a seat across from us, he looked at me again.
"Look buddy," I started, stupid courage emerging from my voice box, "You need to let me go now. I don't care who you are or what you want, but I won't put up with being killed. So whatever you're planning you can just take it and shove it up your ass because I've got a Potions exam tomorrow that I need to ace. I'm going to tell you what you're going to do," I was salivating by now, "You're going to take me out of this office and apparate me back to Hogwarts. I am going to leave and we are going to pretend that I never visited this creepy movie scene. Got it?"
"Do you know who I am, Stephanie?"
I couldn't answer. I had no idea, though I suppose it should have been obvious, I mean, Snape worked for Lord Voldemort. I could always see the dark mark he bore whenever he walked in the Potions room.
"I am-" you could hear the dramatic music playing- "Lord Voldemort."
Have you ever been punched in the gut before? That was just a smidge of what I felt. All the air had been knocked out of me, or so it felt like, and I could feel my lungs shutting down. I opened and closed my mouth, speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. I think I must have let out a gasp of some sort because Professor Snape looked like I had when I realized who he was- like he was trying to hold in a laugh, and I have never, NEVER, seen Snape laugh. Ever. At all.
I just told my father to shove his plan up his ass.
"Uhhh." I mumbled intelligently as I felt the air beginning to return to my lungs, "hi?"
I swear, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Professor Snape crack a smile.
Not knowing whether he'd be mad or not (you can never tell with these one-day-I'll-rule-the-world-and-everyone-will-bow-down-to-me types) I meekly murmured an apology.
"It's fine." Was his stiff response, "I have brought you here to ask you something."
I nodded.
"Would you, Stephanie, like to remain at my castle?"
"Like… forever?"
"Until the next year, yes."
"I don't know. I mean… I guess."
I was still shocked, but my confusion was soon replaced by glee.
"But didn't you not want me?" I blurted out, cursing myself in my head. He'd already offered me a place with him, and he was my father, I wouldn't refuse- why did I have to go and put all of that in jeopardy.
To my intense surprise. His only words were, "We have a lot of catching up to do."
Lord Voldemort is a strange man, I came to realize.
I feel like a spy, I thought as I creeped down the main staircase at midnight. Peering around the corner, I crept into the kitchen. I had been here two days already, and my father had not once talked to me. He was always busy, was the excuse I got from his deatheaters, or he was in an irate mood and wished no visitors. The deatheaters had soon gotten used to me and my snooping, and had learned when to stay out of my way and where to go so as not to be bothered by me.
As I entered the kitchen, which besides one house elf, who I had learned to be called Minx, whom was always in the kitchen when I came down for my midnight snack, the room was empty.
"What can I gets the Miss'?" Minx asked me, taking a bow.
"A bowl of cereal will be fine." Feeling my way around the dark kitchen- how did she move around without any light?- I reached for a spoon from a drawer that was slightly open. Second later, a house elf was in front of me, offering a bowl of Fruit Loops drenched in milk.
After thanking her a second later, not many elves would still be up and attending, I made my way into the dining room. It was pitch black, and I was moving almost without a sound. As I was going to sit down on my usual chair, I had felt my way the first night and could now pinpoint the table and surrounding seats, I felt my butt hit something that was definitely not wooden.
"Ouch." I heard someone hiss.
Straightening up considerable, I pulled my wand from the back pocket of my polka dotted pajama bottoms and murmured to it "lumos."
Almost instantly I saw Lord Voldemort's annoyed face so close to mine.
"AHH." I whisper-screamed, my eyes widening as far as they could open.
"Put that out." He ordered me.
"I'm sorry," I said, returning my wand to its former position.
"What are you doing up?"
I narrowed my eyes, "I ask the same to you."
After a few seconds of silence, I heard him sigh.
"I was eating."
Taking a place at the chair next to him, I grumbled, "And you're sitting in my chair."
"You chair? I eat here every night,"
"Sorry, I've eaten here last night, and as far as I know I was alone."
"I may have come a little later than expected."
"And sat in my chair." My eyes were adjusting to the darkness as I spooned a mouthful of milk.
We were quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts for around five minutes before he finally broke the silence, as if to offer a peace treaty.
"What house are you in anyways?"
"Slytherin, sixth year." I responded almost instantly.
"Really?" he said, sounding much more interested than before.
"That's what I said, wasn't it?"
"Prefect?"
"Yes."
"Quidditch team?"
"Chaser."
"Grades?"
"Acceptable and Excellent."
"Career?"
"Undecided."
Our conversation seemed to lighten up the mood a bit, "I used to be a prefect, got an award for special services to the school." His tone was thoughtful, but I couldn't help but mock.
"Oh yes, I've seen your trophy case, Tom." I exaggerated his name and I was almost certain he choked on the mouthful that was awaiting chewing.
"I'll get you for that." He said, smiling, which up until that point, I wasn't aware that was possible.
Over the next five days, my dad and I continued to chat at around midnight while eating cereal. He'd started seeing me more in the day, too, and I found that I had to give a lot of parenting advice. It seemed that Lord Voldemort did not know how to be a father, and needed extra help.
On my way to my Dad's study, I heard a voice call me from behind.
"Hey," a man's voice said, "You're Tom's daughter. Sandy, right?"
I whipped around to find it was a portrait that was speaking to me, I hadn't seen it before though.
"Stephanie. Who are you?" I didn't fancy talking if the portrait was some old death eater or something.
"Salazar Slytherin to you."
I could feel my cheeks warming up, a very rare sigh it was, you know, to see me blush, and the portrait looked quite amused. What was it with me and speaking rudely to the wrong people?
"Yes, right. You don't look anything like her, you know."
My curiosity got the better of me, "Like who?"
"Melanie."
I gave a gasp. I hadn't heard my mothers name mentioned once yet in the mansion, and I sure as hell wasn't brave enough to bring it up. It seemed as if it would be a forbidden topic of some sort.
"What did she look like?" I asked, trying not to choke.
"She had blonde hair and blue eyes, you know. You look just like Tom."
"What-" I could almost feel myself stuttering, "What was she like?"
"Oh, very nice. A Hufflepuff, that one." The portrait seemed disgusted by the house name, Although she married Tom, so Slytherin could have done her some good."
Hufflepuff? I almost bursted out in laughter. My mother was a… Hufflepuff!?
"She was completely bipolar, but that's what Tom loved about her. Like once, she was walking down this very hallway and Tom swooped in to kiss hr and she went mental, throwing china and glass at his head. She was pregnant at the time."
I spent hours, I believe, with the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, listening to him re-enact encounters between my parents. All of their fights, for the most ridiculous reasons, all of the cheesy lines they said; everything that Salazar could remember he told me.
By the end of the morning, I was lost between dreaming that I would have a romance as good as theirs, and wondering how my father coped once my mother was dead.
"And then," Salazar seemed to go sullen, "one morning, you were three months old by that time,"
"Ooh." I breathed as I checked the time on the clock. "I'm sorry, I have to go." I said to Salazar Slytherin as I raced down the hallways to my fathers study, not paying much mind as to what he was going to tell me, but rather focusing on getting there quickly. It was time I talked to my father about Mom, and if I didn't hurry, he'd leave on a mission of some sort.
As I reached the door, I saw it open just a crack and heard voices from inside.
Pausing midstep, not wanting to interrupt, I pressed my ear to the door.
"My lord," I heard a voice beg and I saw a man on his knees, "I'm sorry, I just- Give me one more chance."
My father looked evil, something I had grown accustomed to, but it was much more noticeable now.
"Another chance? I give no second chances Rosier." He spat.
The man, Rosier, I presumed, begged and pleaded, and I expected my father to let him go any moment, but it came to a huge surprise when his wand was brought out.
"No second chances. Avada Kedavra." I heard and saw a jet green light flash out to hit Rosier directly in the chest. The man dropped dead before I had a chance to blink, and my father didn't even look guilty or sorry. Lord Voldemort actually had the gut to smile.
I muffled a scream with my hand and fled the hallways, although I was certain that he had heard me. I was starting to realize that my father was much more evil than I had imagined.
There was no midnight snack with Lord Voldemort that night, I had spent the night fretting and worrying and being all around frightened. How could he do that? Just kill a man, an innocent man who probably had a family and a life, didn't he feel sorry? Didn't he feel guilty? As much as I wished he felt guilty, my mind told me he enjoyed it rather then despised it.
My father had much more to him than I cared to find out.
"Stephanie?" I heard a familiar voice of the Dark Lord call from the entrance to my room.
"Yes?" I tried not to look guilty; I tried not to look as if I saw anything, I don't think it worked though.
"Yesterday, what you saw," I could recognize the coldness in his voice now that I knew a small portion of what he was capable of, "that, he deserved it."
I just nodded weakly, much like I had done when I first arrived, and said nothing.
"Are we okay?" He asked me, I couldn't bear to look at his face.
"Yes." I said in a voice just above a whisper, "We're fine."
He gave a short nod and briskly walked out.
That was when I knew that I couldn't stay an entire year here. I couldn't handle knowing people were being killed by my father, innocent people too.
I packed up a bag, the essentials only, and I hoisted it over my shoulder before sneaking out of my room.
As I was nearing the exit, I heard a voice again.
"Stephanie!" My friend, the portrait form of Salazar Slytherin called to me.
"Hi." I looked glum and he seemed to notice what I was doing.
"Ahh," he said, clearly enjoying the moment, "You truly look like your mother right now."
Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but I had to ask, "How do you mean?"
"I remember the day she decided to leave. Didn't end well, though."
"I was perplexed. My mother was going to leave Lord Voldemort?
"Yes," Salazar said, as if sensing my suspiciousness, "You were so little. And Tom got to mad, that's how she died, you know, he killed her."
My breathing stopped. It was like the first time hearing who my father was all over again.
"What?" I said in denial. "He… killed her?"
"Oh yes, yes, the Ministry came and took you away after that, they seemed to know where Tom was living. Horrible though."
I was shocked, and this changed everything. My father came out through a door in that hall- perfect timing dad- and I dropped my bag and fled.
"Stephanie?" he asked confused as he saw the book bag open to spill the contents- toothbrush, clothes, wand- and then raced after me when he saw I was trying to run away.
"No," I yelled trying to fight my way through a few tears, but he caught up with me. (Damn you slow legs!)
He grabbed my arm roughly as she twisted me at his mercy. "LET ME GO!" I screamed in his face. He didn't sway.
"Daddy," I pleaded with him, my eyes going wide in shock as I looked at the bloody white hand grasping my arm.
I opened my eyes wide, my father couldn't-wouldn't?- hurt me, would he?
As he opened his mouth to speak, I became more frightened.
"You aren't leaving, Stephanie." His voice was as cold as death, I realized, and his eyes were boring into me. I could feel his unnaturally red orbs burning holes in my head as I looked away from him. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't.
"I can't stay." Replying, I tried to twist my arm away, but gasped when he grasped tighter. I hadn't even known tighter was possible. I could feel bruises forming already. Large, black and blue marks around my upper limb.
"I'm not letting you go."
"Why?" It was full on begging now; I looked like I was going to burst into tears.
"I've already lost Melanie; I won't lose you." It was then I noticed that he was talking to himself rather than with me. His eyes were gone from mine; he just looked deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed- it was the first time I had even noticed that apart from his slit shaped eyes and nostrils, and the ghostly pale complexion of the face, traces of his younger self were still there.
"You've got to let go. Mom- I winced then- would have wanted me to leave." He didn't look swayed. Instead, he just looked considerably angrier.
"I killed her, you know." The Dark Lord told me suddenly, as if he thought that I wouldn't know that piece of vital information. "I killed her because she tried to leave." I could practically hear the wickedness in his voice, the pain too, of when he muttered the killing curse that left me parentless. I bet he thought that I wanted to leave because of when I saw him murder those people.
This, however, made me more petrified. 'I killed her because she left me.' The words were like hauntingly beautiful words, whispering over and over in my ears. Was he going to slaughter me? Was he going to murder me like he'd done Melanie?
"I know." Surprisingly, my voice was still strong, despite the fact that my upper limbs were in pain and a wand was shoved in my neck. I was considerably calmer about the fact he killed her, for a few minutes of knowing, I think I was handling it pretty well, but this life wasn't for me. I needed to live my own life without having my father- and his reputation- travel with me. I had to go anyways.
My comment seemed to make him think, or it looked like it anyways. "Please let me go daddy." I asked of him, searching his eyes- for the first time that day- for any sign of love or compassion.
Would he really be so ruthless as to kill his own daughter? 'Yes' A voice in the back of my mind nagged,- tauntingly, jeeringly.
My pleading must have caught up with him, maybe he was tired of a daughter- maybe I wasn't good enough, I certainly wasn't my mother, but whatever possessed him to do it, he let his arm drop to his side. It was the first time since I got here that I saw through the cold inhumanness; I was amazed.
"Go." It was one word, a whisper at that but that was all I needed. I breathed silent thanks and took off like there was a bloody werewolf chasing me. My legs moved until they were numb, they ran and ran until I reached the small muggle town of Wiltshire that was luckily only a few miles away.
While I waited at the bus station- who knew muggles that the brain capability to make anything remotely useful?- I scanned my thoughts. I liked to think it was love, for me, you know, that let Lord Voldemort leave me, well, alive. And even if I did almost die, I was happy with the time I spent over there. I was happy that I got to know my father- even if he was a filthy murderer who, surprise, surprise, killed my mother too. I didn't regret it, not a thing, as odd as it may sound.
While I went to board on the bus- Londonbound, to try and get to Diagon Alley and floo back to school- I decided on one thing. Pulling back my black, mud streaked hair, I decided that I was happy I knew what happened, with my mom and dad, because even though my dad's a bit loony, and my mom was even more weird, by the sound of it, I wasn't without a father figure anymore. I wasn't in the dark.