Authors Note:
The story format might be hard for you to follow, but I hope you understand. It goes like this: 'intro – flashback - pause – flashback – chara conclusion'. I know the entire storyline might be a bit fragmented, but you'll be able to put it together ... I hope.
Legend:
xXx – marks the beginning and end of a flashback
OoO – beginning and/or end of a segment
Without further ado, let's get into it!
OoO
Chapter One: Into the Pensieve
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
How many countless times Luci had heard those words, she had no idea. All she knew was that they were growing tiresome, and her reply was a tedious task. If only those professors had the sense to shut up and think about what they were implying. Was she uncertain? No. Was she afraid? ... Maybe. After all, it had taken years and years of effort to collect these fragmented, broken memories. She wasn't giving in now. The raven-haired girl shook her head furiously, and turned to the tall man standing before her, white hair trailing onto the floor of his study.
"No, I'm fine, Professor Dumbledore. I want to know."
The Headmaster watched her. Luci's mouth was drawn into a thin line, her pale face – reminiscent of another man's – thin and determined. Her bottom lip protruded slightly, as it had always done when she was on the verge of frustration, or worse, tears. She looked so small, a miniscule perfection in her Hogwarts uniform. He could almost relate – if she was who she thought she was ... she had nowhere else to belong.
"Very well, Luci. Let us begin."
Luci paused, and a few tears spilled freely from her dark lashes onto her pale face. Dumbledore looked away in the nick of time, giving her a few moments to brush them away. Then she nodded once more, and approached the sturdy looking desk laid out for her. It didn't look like it had any real purpose, other than supporting the ornate silver Pensieve atop it. Awkwardly, Luci traced the outline of the silver bowl. Dumbledore produced something from the hem of his robes, and with his bright eyes still on his pupil, emptied the glistening contents of his flask into the Pensieve. The memories fell slowly, almost sluggishly, finally settling in the basin.
"So I," Luci began awkward, "I just s..."
"Stick your nose into it, yes." Dumbledore said, and there was the faintest sound of pleasant laughter echoing in his tone, "Go ahead. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
It was the female pronoun that really got to Luci. She turned to Dumbledore, on the verge of saying something, anything, then paused. She nodded once, and turned back to the Pensieve. With a small, half-hearted chuckle, the girl thrust her face down. For a moment, there was nothing but the uncertainty of magic around her. And then hands closed around her own, a soft gentle grasp – dimly, Luci wondered whether it was like this for every Pensieve-user, or whether it was the touch of – again she flinched away from the word. And then she was falling, falling through nothingness into a misty world.
xXx
The first thing Luci noticed was the shadows. They shifted awkwardly; it had to be late in the evening. Very late. The memory had a surreal, uncertain feeling to it. Grey and purple shadows flitted across the sky, and the world hovered in a haze of history. She stood, bruised and awkward, and promptly slipped through the rough brick wall of Hogwarts school. Cursing, she turned – Dumbledore had warned her of this.
It was then that she saw the boy. He was gangly, like the red-head that hung around a certain scarred wizard, and many other adolescents. His hair was smoky charcoal. The sun played across his damp locks, making him seem all the more godlike, bronze in the light... brilliant ... Luci crept out, and saw him for who he was; an ordinary wizard, face plain as dirt and sprinkled with freckles, dark eyes smoldering. Nonetheless, there was something special about him. Luci's breath caught in her throat. She didn't even want to contemplate the possibilities that this was her fa-...
"Addy! Hurry up and get down here already!"
His voice was coarse, too, but it belonged to an average student. Luci leapt back, and landed on the springy grass. She felt so weightless. She heard the rattle and chank of chains and glass, and glanced up at the tower the wizard was standing at, head tilted upwards so his voice would reach the windows several storeys up. Finally, a window creaked open painfully, and a head peeked out, light-gold waves obscuring the face.
What Luci saw was almost a mirage. Pale, porcelain features ... light blue eyes that were so, so similar to Dumbledore's, framed with smoky lashes. Unkempt, honey-colored curls – they looked natural that way. Maybe she got her hair from her father. A ripple of fear went through Luci, but she kept her eyes firmly fixed to Adelaide. She was pretty, the memory-traveller realized; maybe that was why ...
"I'm coming, Stan." Adelaide called back down, and her voice was an echo of her daughter's; cool, collected, but with the slightest tinge more sweetness.
Adelaide's face disappeared from the windowsill, and Luci knew she was running downstairs. The next moment, she re-appeared, in all her golden glory. She pattered towards Tristan, and at the last moment, pushed him over. Tristan fell backwards into the mud, and Adelaide giggled. Dripping mud, her friend re-appeared, and shoved at her playfully. Luci took a cautious step back as the two of them teased each other.
"It's past curfew," Adelaide finally said, somewhat breathless, "why are you here?"
"What, you expected me to go and leave you all alone with those skimpily clad girls in your dorm?" Tristan replied, winking, "Nah, not a chance."
"You have to go, Stan." Adelaide said, a little more seriously now as she brushed her golden bangs out of her eyes, "Riddle's coming."
The words sent a chilling thrill up her daughter's spine, so close and yet so far, standing next to her memory-composed mother. More than anything, Luci wanted to talk. Her throat ached with words unspoken. She tugged at her mother's sleeve, but her fingers slipped right through the material. She stood in front of Adelaide, waving, desperate, trying to touch her mother's face – trying to do anything, and yet, Adelaide remained unaffected.
Adelaide froze, and Luci ducked away instinctively. A cold voice rang out, and that was when Luci's blood went cold.
"Bones, Hoffman. Might I ask what you're doing out here so late?"
Adelaide's face had changed so quickly, on many, many different emotions, but had finally settled on a pleasant smile. Nonetheless, there was no warmth – no heartfelt happiness in her smile. The mud-covered Tristan turned awkwardly, uncertain what to do. Finally, he bent over sideways, so a clear view of speaker and recipent was obvious.
Tom Riddle was as handsome as ever, in flowing black robes that matched his jet-black hair. His eyes were cold. His gaunt face were as pale as ever, and his gaze was searching. His lips were pressed thin. Luci half-expected a fanclub to come hovering after him, but there was none; apparently, Riddle was merely on some form of Prefect duty. But try as she might, Luci could spot no liking, let alone love between her so-called mother and father.
"We were-" Adelaide began, her voice a notch higher than usual, "I fell from the window when I was admiring the view, and Sta- Tristan cast the levitation spell on me, else I would've died."
By her side, Tristan Bones nodded earnestly.
"I'll be expecting better of you in future, Hoffman." Riddle said, and Luci could detect no form of malice whatsoever in his voice. He merely sounded like another put-off Prefect by nuisances of fellow students. "Be careful, now."
Tristan had already melted mysteriously out of view, leaving Adelaide standing there, apparently alone, in her grubbied dressing robe. She looked young and feeble – Luci had to remind herself that her mother was only in first year at this time, and yet still, Riddle's sharp reprimand had left her speechless. She paused, and then turned on her heel, hurrying after Riddle. A moment later, she caught hold of her senior's robe.
"Senior Riddle!"
"What is it, Hoffman?" Riddle said, half-turning, but Luci could see the awkward, unexplainable smile hovering about his lips, "It's unusual for you to come after me ... let alone be so polite."
"Sen-"
"The politeness, I'm sure, is entirely you." Riddle's lips twisted into a snide smirk as he continued on, "However, that friend of yours ... despite his heritage ... is rather uncouth."
By her sides, Adelaide's tiny hands balled up into miniscule fists. Luci's eyes widened. Quite obviously, her mother detested her ... now, even Luci was uncertain as to her true parentage. Instead, she watched, silently cheering on her mother's side of the argument. Adelaide's face was flushed with frustration, and yet she made no sound. Riddle's face was smooth as ever as he gazed down upon the younger girl.
"Senior ... Riddle ... Tristan really hasn't done anything." Adelaide finally said.
"It's been halfway through the year." Riddle replied coldly. "And he's already had two warnings. Might I remind you, Hoffman, of his behaviour. You'd do well to stay away from him."
"Senior Riddle!"
But Riddle had already turned, and was striding away fast, footsteps ringing out in the silence of the evening. Luci hurried after him, leaving her frazzled-looking mother behind, tears glistening in her eyes. What was most important now was to discover whether there had been, or ever would be, any form of loving connection between this man. Luci almost spat at Voldemort's feet; this vile, distasteful man.
OoO
The Slytherin common rooms were dimly lit by the subtle green glow of the lake. Luci hadn't liked crossing the damp dungeons, despite her ethereal non-existence, but she had no choice. She had listened to Riddle utter a series of slithering clicks, his way of opening the door rather than remembering the meagre password that offered no proof to his royal bloodline. Riddle slithered in just as smoothly as the snakes he emulated, and dropped into an armchair.
Luci didn't like it in the common room, but still, she stayed. Minutes passed, and the ticking of the clock seemed ever-present. She knew of the magical enchantments in every place of Hogwarts, silently recording every student's deeds. Dumbledore must've accessed these recordings to have remembered them. She wondered why it was of great importance. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. Finally, Riddle stood.
Luci turned, and to her surprise, saw a cold smile split the handsome boy's face in half. It wasn't malicious however; it held all the ecstasy of a fanatic. One low, gruff laugh rang out around the common room, and Voldemort's daughter flinched away. How she would've given anything – everything not to claim the man before her as her father. But that was what she was here for, Luci reminded herself silently – to find proof that she wasn't Voldemort's daughter.
Riddle's chuckles died away, and his eyes went cold. And then, on the tip of his tongue, came equally smooth, slithering words, that shook Luci right to the marrow. But she had no idea what they meant. Then Riddle spoke once more.
"Ah ... that girl ... she ..."
XxX
Luci wrenched herself upright, silver liquid dripping from her hair, her eyes, her nose, her ears. She had been completely submerged, so lost in the memories that she hadn't seen how much time had passed. Dumbledore's hand was firmly clenched around her upper arm, his face calm, almost pitying. He handed her a towel. Silently, Luci wiped the gunk off.
"I ... saw my mother ..."
Dumbledore merely looked at her. "Was that what you wanted to see, Luci?"
Luci didn't know anymore. She wiped the last of the memory-juice from her face, and handed the towel back to Dumbledore. He accepted it silently, cleaning it with a simple wave of his wand, and nodded towards the door. Luci left, silent, gracious. Adelaide Hoffman ... the name ran through her mind, a tiny flicker of consciousness.
My mother, Luci thought, and a pang went through her as she remembered the golden-haired girl. My mother.
So lost in her thoughts was she, she never noticed the dark-haired boy coming up the stairs at the same time she went down. Their shoulders brushed, and Luci let out a squeal of surprise as she looked up. A thin face ... messy, unruly black hair, just like Tristan's ... large eyes that blinked at her behind golden glasses .. Luci started back instinctively, and then dashed down the stairs, black hair whisking out behind her.
"I wonder what was wrong with her?" the girl heard Harry Potter ponder, as she struggled with the stone gargoyles.
She heard Dumbledore's voice welcome Harry, and then there was silence. Luci's energy left her, and she slumped against the wall, shoulders heaving. Adelaide Hoffman ... that beautiful, charming girl ... she was happy to claim her as her mother. But if that purity had been robbed by that hideous, hideous man ... the one who had laughed at her mother's memory ... tears pricked Luci's eyes, and she slid down silently, unable to stand.
If she truly was Voldemort's daughter, how could that ever make her equal to stand and look Harry Potter in the eye, the one who had banished her father, the one who shared a common room with her, the one that should be her enemy ...?
