Disclaimer: The only things I own are any characters that aren't recognizable from the Harry Potter franchise. All else belongs to JK Rowling.
A Change of Fate
Nicole's POV
I fell backwards into the living room table, the edge catching one of the vertebrae of my spinal chord. I hissed in response to the pain flooding my system, glaring above me. My father watched, emotionless, as I spit blood out of my mouth, tongue running over the split lip. I pushed my emotions away, compartmentalizing it for the moment, and locking my thoughts away in the darkest room of my memory palace. I laid all my thoughts of my father to rest there and tried to forget my way back, hopefully so that I'd never have to relive them.
"You're a freak! A freak!" He screamed at me, shaking an envelope in my face, spit dribbling down his chin. His face was red and I could see a vein throbbing in his forehead as his cheek muscles began to tick. "I wish I had've known so I'd never agree to take you in!" I glared at him, sneering in response to his statement. I silently rolled over and pushed myself to my hands and knees, taking in a deep breath before continuing to push myself to my feet. I then turned around to look at the couple that had adopted me only to make my life a living hell.
When I was born, I was placed in an orphanage by a strange woman, claiming that I was alone in the world. Or that's what the records tell me. I truly had no knowledge of my parents identities- only that I was alone and they were dead. I had stayed at that orphanage for three years before this couple, my parents, adopted me. I had, of course, been grateful to them during my early years, until I was nearly seven. That was when things began to change.
For whatever reason, I was able to make odd things happen from time to time. At first I had been skeptical of these strange occurrences, unsure as to the cause of them. It was after I accidentally set the living room curtains on fire once that my family and I realized who was to blame. I also learned on that day that I had some control over the flames I had managed to create. Somehow, I had been granted this amazing gift- which I soon discovered extended to all of the elements- something that most would be excited for. Most, key word being, not me.
Another mystery to me was, and always will be, my parents reaction. Rather than being impressed or trying to help me, or any other combination imaginable, they decided to take a much darker path. From the age of seven on, they were harsh with me, starting with making me do the chores of the house. It progressed over the years from working me excessively to harsh words. About two years ago, it progressed further to full blown abuse. They felt no remorse in hitting me, kicking me, and finding blunt objects to beat me with over these harsh two years. And now, today, nearly a week after my eleventh birthday, I found myself once again on the receiving end of their anger for some unknown reason. I hadn't set anything on fire or done anything 'freaky'.
I was brought back to the present then as my father smacked me, causing me to stumble backwards. I clenched my jaw, quickly trying to regain control of my emotions after the unexpected assault. I could taste more blood welling up in my mouth as I turned to look at my father once more, not even deigning to glare at him. I simply raised my eyebrow, falling back on my defensive mechanism of taunting.
"As wonderful as this conversation may be, I'd like to at least know why you're using me as a pinata today," I commented, preparing for the next strike my way. I received it fairly quickly, this blow causing me to stumble backwards over the coffee table, falling into the indoor flower pot. I heard my mother gasp, moaning about her precious flowers. I felt the disgust well up in me, and I glared, unable to wait for the moment I would be old enough and strong enough to fight back. I swear I would kill them.
"Maybe that will teach you a little respect," my father threw back at me, shaking the envelope once more.
"Respect? Oh yes. Soon you'll have me saying, 'Please sir, may I have another,'" I told him as I stood up carefully, trying to avoid embedding the ceramic shards any further into my skin. Another blow, this time a kick, had me doubled over, falling to my knees as the wind was knocked from me.
"One day your mouth will get you into trouble," he growled at me, turning away to look back at the letter that, supposedly, was for me.
"Trouble indeed. Seems it's already found me," I told him, sweeping my hand to gesture at the couple. "Though I bet I'd welcome the sort of trouble you're talking about. Might as well put me out of my misery." I heard a snarl and looked up just in time to see my dad flying at me. He grabbed the front of my shirt, dragging me to my feet, and started pushing me backwards until we reached the top of the basement stairs. My heart lurched slightly, panic beginning to flood me involuntarily as I grabbed at the walls on either side, trying to keep my balance. I immediately focused on compartmentalizing my panic, focusing on remaining calm.
"I've had enough of your mouth for tonight! You want trouble? How about a broken arm? We'll see how you manage with that sort of trouble," he hissed at me, jerking me towards him in preparation to throw me backwards. Everything slowed to a crawl then.
I could feel the look of horror forming on my face despite myself as my body moved closer to him. A loud crash had our heads spinning to the front door as it splintered, exploding into the house. My mother turned to face the intruder. I barely had time to take in any of his features before my momentum had suddenly been changed, body going backwards. I heard more than felt as I tumbled down the stairs, landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom.
Groaning, I lifted my head up to take stock of my injuries, keeping the door that housed pain in my mind firmly shut. The dim light from the open door allowed me to see that my arm was stuck out at an odd angle, obviously broken. The light was gone with the crack of the door as it slammed shut. Breathing heavily, I stood up in the cool darkness, turning around and heading through the door and further into the basement, also known as my prison cell.
I carefully picked my way into the room and around the bed with my eyes closed. I found it easier this way to maneuver around my room, though I knew the layout by heart. After all, having been thrown back into this room, injured, after many a beating had allowed me to learn how to move silently and quickly in the dark. I took a sharp left at the end, entering the tiny laundry room. I dropped to my hands and knees, only using one hand to propel me as I skittered across the floor. Squeezing behind the washer and dryer, I carefully removed a piece of the wall that was invisible unless you knew of its existence. I quickly darted into the room on the other side, being careful to replace the section of wall.
I sighed with relief as I sat back in the fairly large area with enough room to stand. It served as an underground storage area for the house. The main entrance had long been sealed off after my parents renovated the basement to serve as my prison. This smaller, secret entrance, only known to me, remained and allowed me to access the room. I used it for my own purposes as a hiding spot or, as I sometimes imagined, my own secret clubhouse. Now that I was safely inside, I lit a candle to give me light before quickly checking over my wounds.
The quick check revealed a head wound, bleeding profusely, and a broken arm. Other than that, most of the injuries consisted of cuts, bruises, and glass wounds, all of which were quite natural and a regular occurrence for me. Determining that I would live, I switched my thoughts to the break-in occurring upstairs. All was silent, so I could only assume that whoever it was had already taken care of my parents. Was this person a threat to me? And could they possibly find me in here?
Hardly daring to breathe, I listened to the footsteps as they crossed the floor above me, moving to the basement stairs. They slowly started their descent, and I instantly knew that, threat or not, they were searching for me. Enough searching and they would find me. Looking around the room, I moved to a small wooden table I had nicked from my neighbor's garbage pile once. Lying on top of it was one of my mother's good steak knives that 'went missing' a few weeks back when my father was becoming more violent. I clutched it to my chest and sat on one of the four chairs that matched the table.
The footsteps were crossing my room, making a direct beeline to the laundry room. I held my breath, knowing that this person somehow knew exactly where I was. It was the only thing that made sense, after all. Why else would he or she move to the laundry room before checking under the bed or in the closet? The footsteps entered the laundry room and paused before approaching the wall. They stopped and I heard the person's knuckles rap on the wood. There was a pause before I heard a deep chuckle.
Silence reigned for a few seconds after before a whispered word and a flash of light. With that flash of light came the wall bursting inwards. I used my broken arm to shield my face from stray splinters, the other brandishing the knife in front of me, prepared to fight. As the dust began to settle, a tall, masculine figure stepped into the room, dressed in dark colors. He stood still and we observed each other, taking in our opponent. He was very tall, easily towering over me, with dark eyes reminding me of cold obsidian. He was pale with shoulder length, greasy black hair that was far darker than his eyes, though I had hardly thought it possible. The silence returned for several moments as he tilted his head, considering me.
"Nicole Riddle?" He asked slowly after a moment, eyes empty of any sort of emotion. I almost felt as if I was looking into the eyes of a robot, or an empty vessel. I continued staring at him, keeping my face as carefully constructed as possible, trying to give as little away as possible, while considering why he might be looking for me.
"I'd be worried about saying 'yes', but it looks like you've already broken down my front door," I replied, tilting my head slightly. "That and, thankfully, it doesn't appear you have a gun." He frowned in confusion, sneering slightly. "What? You telling me you've never seen Terminator? No?" I asked him, receiving the same look. "Your loss," I told him with a shrug before returning to a more serious frame of mind. "Really though- who's asking?"
"My name is Severus Snape, and I'm a teacher at Hogwarts. We're the boarding school that sent you the letter your father was confronting you about," he told me carefully, taking a few slow steps forward. I took a step back, eyes narrowing.
"Well, I wouldn't know, considering I never had a chance to look at the letter," I told him, moving so to keep the table between us. The hand holding the knife came up from where it had fallen to my side ever so slightly. I kept a firm grip on it, keeping it out of his eyesight.
"I'm only here to help you," he informed me, sneering ever so slightly. "Now if you wouldn't mind, put the blade on the table." I glared in return, considering denying it before deciding my best course of action was to place the knife down. I slowly moved forward and placed it on the table, stepping away after. "Now, please come around the table so I can help you."
"Now why do you think I'd do that? I'd then be sacrificing the last advantage I have to make myself completely vulnerable to a stranger," I told him, keeping my voice level, as I maintained eye contact. He rolled his eyes, brandishing a thin strip of wood that looked like one of those wands that a witch would hold in those old halloween type movies.
"Please. If I wanted to hurt you, I'd have done so already. A measly door didn't stop my entry, so what makes you think a table will?" He asked, starting to sound as if his patience was quickly evaporating. I frowned, quickly calculating the situation. On one hand, I would be vulnerable, though there was the chance he would really help me. Should I refuse, however, I stood the chance of pissing him off royally, which could make it more likely that he would harm me. Though I didn't like the odds, I quickly made up my mind and cautiously moved out from around the table. "Sit," was all he told me.
I took one of the two chairs as he sat in the chair next to me, turning it so that he could face me. He quickly took my injured arm, holding what looked to be a wand, pointing it at my arm. He looked back up at me real quick before glancing back down and hissing something that sounded oddly like latin. "Brackium Emendo," he muttered, a flash appearing from the end of the wand. I felt my eyes widen as my broken arm shifted back into place, the bone snapping together. The brief flash of pain was so slight and brief that I barely even felt it, through I wasn't sure if that was a testament to his skills at setting bones or my pain tolerance due to the number of beatings over the past few years.
"How'd you do that? You know- set my arm with that… er… stick?" I asked skeptically, astonished at the events that had just taken place. He simply smirked.
"I didn't set it. I healed your broken bone. Try moving it," he advised me. I glanced warily at him before doing as he said. To my surprise, I had complete mobility! My arm truly was healed!
"But- how?" I asked as he turned away, pulling out vials filled with a dark, blood-like substance.
"Magic," he replied. I nodded my head, looking down at his wand, as I was sure it must be called, surprised that I wasn't more shocked. Then again, I could exhibit some measure of control over the elements, and I'm sure that kept me open minded. After all, that had to be some sort of magic, right? He looked up at me then, frowning ever so slightly. "You don't seem surprised. Or skeptical," he stated, tilting his head before returning to his work.
"No, I don't suppose I am," I replied as he took my arm, flicking his wand as he did so. The glass flew from the wounds, landing on the table with a plunk. He then began muttering more latin words, causing my skin to knit itself back together, leaving fresh pink skin in its wake. I continued as he moved his wand, muttering the same phrase over and over to heal my wounds. "I suppose I've always known that it had to be something like magic. The stuff I could do. 'sides, if this isn't magic, then I don't know what is," I added as an afterthought. He nodded, quickly healing my head wound before turning to the vials of potion.
"You mentioned anomalies that you caused. We call these anomalies accidental magic. It's when a young witch or wizard performs magic without intention or without realizing," the professor explained as he uncorked one vial. "I'll need you to take this," he told me, handing it to me before continuing as if he never paused, "Care to tell me about these uses of accidental magic?"
"Sure. Where to start?" I asked as I downed the vial. I immediately snorted, trying to hold back a gag at the taste. It had tasted just like actual blood, which startled me. "What the bloody hell is that?" I asked him, swallowing thickly. He smirked, taking the vial back and uncorking a second.
"That was a blood replenishing potion. I believe the name is straightforward enough that you can guess its function," he replied, pushing a second vial towards me. He quickly pocketed the remaining vials. "Drink this final one. Two should be enough seeing as you, thankfully, didn't lose much blood." I took a deep breath, now prepared for the taste.
"Well, cheers," I told him, miming toasting with the vial before downing it once more. This time, I managed to drink it without cringing or showing any real discomfort at drinking the potion. "Anyway, where were we? Oh, that's right! Accidental magic," I commented, tilting my head sideways. "Let's see… my first bit was when I was seven and I accidentally set the drapes on fire. Then I ended up making one of my mother's pots disappear when she tried swatting me with it. Another time I managed to throw my father away from me and across the room," I listed, pausing to think about the times I purposely controlled my magic so to control the elements. "I think I've been knowingly performing magic for a while now though."
"Why would you say that?" He asked, turning to meet my eyes. I felt a slight prickling in my forehead as our eyes met before suddenly being jerked mentally. Someone was in my memory palace. I couldn't explain how I knew exactly, but I did. I could feel them walking through the halls. Closing my eyes, I pictured my memory palace and saw the professor walking through the halls, looking at the various doors.
"You don't belong here," I told him, stalking up to him. When I finally reached him, I pushed, throwing him back through the hall and out the door. The door slammed shut behind him, locking in place ominously. My eyes flew open then, and I found myself glaring at him. "What the bloody hell was that?"
"Which part exactly? The Legilimency or the fine example of Occlumency?" he asked, causing me to tilt my head slightly, puzzled at the new terms. He continued on to explain, hardly pausing. "Legilimency is a form of mind magic that allows one to infiltrate another's mind. It allows them to see their memories and even obtain a general impression of their thoughts. Occlumency is the form of mind magic that defends your mind from infiltration. I had infiltrated your mind to witness these memories of you knowingly performing magic. Your defense in the form of a memory palace was advanced beyond your age," he told me, to which I nodded slowly. "How did you learn to build a palace so impressive?"
"Well, I read a lot. Not much else to do," I told him, shrugging and gesturing at a far bookshelf. It was where I hid all my prized books that I enjoyed reading so much. "I got the idea from reading a few books on the method of loci. I attempted it and found it was relatively natural for me. My palace isn't very big yet or well defended, but I hope to work on it," I told him, smiling slightly. He nodded in response, frowning slightly.
"Well, I suppose I should give you what is yours," he told me, handing me the envelope from earlier. I saw that it was addressed to me and had a coat of arms on it. Opening it, I found two sheets of paper inside. One appeared to be an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, while the other was a supplies list. It read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss. Riddle,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
sets of plain work robes (black)
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
I shook my head at this, smiling down at the letter before looking back up at him. "So how did you know to come today? I mean, the thirty first isn't for another week or anything, so it isn't like my reply is late."
"The letters are magic and reacted to your blood, informing us that something was amiss," he told me as he took the letter back, holding on to it for me. "Now, we have jumped topics once more. I still would like to know what you meant earlier when you said you had knowingly performed magic."
"Alright," I told him, shaking my head. "What I meant was that there are times that I'm able to control my magic. For example, I can control when I make fire and even direct it and stuff." His eyes widened ever so slightly at this and he drew in a deep breath. "What? Did I say some-"
"You can make fire and control it?" He asked. I nodded and, just to prove it, made a ball of fire appear in my hand. I then proceeded to make it flit around the room, hovering as it moved from spot to spot to light up the room before I stopped focusing, making it disappear. "Elementorum Dominateur," I heard him whisper.
"What? What does that mean?"
"It's the name given to those that can control the elements. It's a very rare power, though most people that practice it are simply referred to as Elementals. So, I take it fire is your element?"
"Well, yes," I told him, shrugging slightly. "It's the one I'm closest to of the four."
"Closest to?" he asked, leaning forward. "Do you mean-?"
"That I can control the other three? Yeah," I told him, shrugging. To demonstrate, I moved the dirt and dust in the room, compacting it into a rock. I then caused a slight breeze to fill the room and I refilled the vials with water. He watched expectantly before smiling slightly.
"Very interesting indeed. You see, most can only control one element. It's extremely rare for one to control all four. The last recorded Elemental to control all four is believed to be Merlin," he told me, causing my eyes to widen.
"Merlin?! You mean he's real?" I exclaimed, smiling. Oh how I had loved the old stories of the Knights of the Round Table and King Arthur. The stories of Merlin and Camelot.
"Well of course. With all that he did, I fail to see how he couldn't be real," Professor Snape replied with a slight smile. "This is astounding," he told me, standing from his seat. "Come, we must go," he told me, extending his hand. I frowned at this, eyes narrowing.
"Hold up. Where do you want me to go? I mean, I hardly know you, no offense."
"None taken," he replied, quickly moving to answer the question. "We must go to Hogwarts. It is evident that your living conditions are unsuitable for a young witch. The Headmaster will be able to help your predicament. Unless you'd rather stay here…" he told me, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. I made a show of thinking it over, though I knew my decision was already made.
"Alright, good point. Let's go," I said, taking his hand. He smirked slightly, looking down at me.
"Hold on," was the only warning I got before he turned on the spot. I was instantly come over with the feeling of being squeezed through a tight hole. My vision flashed as all the air was squeezed out of my lungs. Just when I thought I would pass out from the lack of oxygen, it was over, and I had dropped to my knees.
"You could have warned me," I told him, groaning as I opened my eyes. "You should-" I stopped in the middle of my sentence, forgetting what I had been about to say. "Woah."
A/N: Alright, so I know the first chapter was a little quick and brief, but I hope that it was better than the first chapter of the original story. I scrapped the original and re-wrote it, using some elements. As you can see, Nicole Riddle was still abused, though I made it for a shorter period of time. I also tried to highlight her more Slytherin characteristics, as well as her attitude. She's still going to be a powerful witch, being an Elemental, though I did scrap a lot of the Mary-Sue abilities and tried to make it a little more realistic. And yes, she'll still be Voldemort's daughter.
For the most part, that's all I really had to say. I'll be taking down the original story as soon as I post this story. The next update won't be until next Saturday at a minimum. I'll update the chapter with more details closer to then. Any questions, feel free to send a PM. Please comment and let me know what you think!
Until next time,
Nicole813711
Update 2/23/2016: Minor adjustments to the story. This will continue for the other stories over the next couple of days, ending with another chapter by the end of the week. Sorry for any who were following this story.