One cold morning in middle of November, Daisy sat in the depths of the Chamber, pouring over her Horcrux books by light and warmth of a vast array of large torches.
A particular set of passages, about a particular aspect of the process she had never imagined: there was a way to reverse it. To heal the soul. To reintegrate and mend the pieces. Return them to a whole. A way that would possibly kill her and send her wholly repaired soul off to the next world, if she ever did it, according to the book.
Remorse. True, deep remorse. For what you had done, to others and yourself in this pursuit.
What distressed Daisy was...that she had no honest idea if she would feel remorse or not after she took the life needed for her Horcrux. Her intention was to make it a life she (and the world) would not miss, after all. A terrible person, an enemy in war she or anyone would have killed anyways! Was it wrong to not regret that? Would it make her any worse if she really didn't? Wouldn't anyone not regret getting rid of a murderer, a rapist, a sadistic member of a death gang in an oppressive regime?
At least Daisy would give the death meaning! Value. Strategic, and personal. For the war effort, and for all the victims past, present, and future! At least she wasn't going to make her Horcrux for selfish reasons. She just saw it as an incredible advantage in the war! An undying rebel soldier, a skill and a power to never be lost! How was that bad? How was that wrong? Daisy was being as- morally...considerate as possible, given the fucking circumstances! The fact that in the end, she had no real choice anyway! No one said no to Voldemort. Not even her.
And this remorse thing...it could be useful too. Not for herself, however.
As she sat for hours down there, she began to think harder than she ever had.
And she began to gather as much courage as she had ever had - for she would definitely need it.
She was willing to risk a couple weeks worth of torture for the plan forming in her mind.
She only had to wait for her father to come for his promised visit.
While Daisy had continued to abide by Edith's request to leave her be, these past few weeks (gotten past that hurt and rejection finally), that meant she still needed to find other girls to be her friend. Fortunately, there was one girl she knew for sure who hadn't pushed her away yet, and who she was also...fairly certain would say yes to befriending her.
Daisy approached Rigel after a fun Charms lesson, grabbing at her hand and leading her on down the corridor - the opposite way everyone else was heading. She pulled Rigel around a corner and stopped there with her. She let Rigel's hand go, and put both of hers in front of herself at waist height.
"Sorry about this, I just need to ask you something real quick," Daisy murmured out, trying to hide her anxieties. "Do you...do you want to be my friend? Only say yes...if you really want to! Not because you're scared of me, or you feel pressured or- or anything like that! Okay?"
"I...I'd s-say yes 'cause I'm g-grateful." Rigel stuttered, smiling. Unhesitating. Not even a moment to think it over! "Y-you're the only o-one here who- who's l-looked out for m-me. I'd l-love to be your f-friend."
Daisy hugged her in sheer relief. She had been sure Rigel would agree to it, but there had always been that small chance...
Rigel accepted the hug, blushing.
Daisy drew away, blushing too. "Sorry..." she mumbled again.
"It's o-ok. I d-didn't m-mind!" Rigel said swiftly. "T-that's what f-friends do, d-don't they?" she added lightly.
"Most friends," Daisy agreed. "I should have asked if you were that kind of friend before I did it, though. Friends also don't make friends uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable, s-so it's f-fine!" Rigel countered.
"Okay. Thank you for saying yes."
Rigel glanced down, then she stepped in and took Daisy's hand. She flashed another smile. "W-we s-should get to our next c-class now."
Daisy beamed, using every last ounce of willpower she had to keep the joyous urges in her from causing her to just start squealing. It would have gone down as one of the most embarrassing moments in her life so far. And she would not allow it to happen! She was a mature girl! She was! And mature girls did not squeal!
Voldemort swept into the school with ease and purpose, meeting Daisy in the Entrance Hall.
"Come," he told her, leading the way to the Grand Staircase. Not a word more, not a glance more.
Daisy followed, and stayed silent as they moved up the stairs and through these confusing corridors.
All the way to one of the few places she knew: the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
Unlike last visit, however, this particular loo was not vacant.
A swirling toilet and a splash sounded, and then one of the stall doors swung on its old hinges as a silvery shape burst out into view.
"Who's come to mess with me now?!" The ghost of a girl looked furious and distraught - and then, absolutely shocked. Her eyes fluttered and widened behind those glasses of hers, taking them both in. She gazed on Voldemort as he turned to face her, his expression turning...almost happy for once. A rare, wide smile split his face as he met the ghost's gaze in turn. "What...are you doing here? I've heard all about you! You're one of the most awful, wretched wizards to ever be born!"
Voldemort took a slow, simple step forward, a hand emerging from his robes holding his wand. "Whereas I haven't thought of you in many decades, girl. But I will take the compliment, to be sure."
Uncertainty played across Myrtle's face. "Why would you have ever thought about me? The ghost of a girl who died a long time ago, in this lonely bathroom..."
Voldemort's smile, if possible, grew even wider. "Ah, Myrtle, you hurt me, you truly do. To not even recognize the wizard responsible for your death..."
Myrtle's face showed pure confusion. She glanced at the taps, then back to Voldemort. "How could you have been...why would you-"
"Do you remember nothing of your own end?" Voldemort interjected, jeering. Mocking. "A boy's voice, another language - the eyes of a basilisk? Come now, ghost you may be, you still have a functional mind. Do you not?"
Myrtle frowned. Then, she gasped. "That day- but you- are you saying that was you?!"
"Indeed it was," Voldemort replied, inclining his head at her, looking quite pleased with himself. "And I shall tell you something I think you'll find most enlightening. I do know how to make witches feel special..." He raised his wand and pointed at Myrtle with it. "You, phantom, were Lord Voldemort's very first victim."
"I- I- w-what...?" Myrtle's eyes shimmered. Her lips wobbled. Silvery tears were...
"Quite an honor, isn't it?" said Voldemort, relishing. He looked down at Daisy, his smile becoming more of a smirk. "Tell me, have you learned yet about the laws that govern ghosts?"
"No," Daisy admitted quietly. "I just know they can fly, they're transparent, and they can learn how to interact with the physical world again if they try hard enough."
"Most people believe there is nothing to be done about ghosts," Voldemort spoke again. "But the Ministry has invented spells that can corral or contain them, if need be - even bind them to certain locations, as with Myrtle here. Other individuals across the world, however...have invented more than a few spells intended to inflict pain upon spirits. Observe!" He slashed his wand before himself, and transparent, glowing white lightning bolts burst from the tip, heading straight for Myrtle.
They did not pass through her; they connected with her figure as if they were striking her, touching her. They danced across her body, enveloping her, causing shrill screams to ring out as the girl writhed in the air! Silver smoke rose from her form, and bits and pieces of her "body" itself flaked off and fell toward the floor (and on through it).
Voldemort lowered his wand. The lightning ceased - and Myrtle was left floating in the air on her back, her arms and legs hanging uselessly. Little cries and sobs escaped from Myrtle, silvery tears dropping through the floor. But she seemed unable to move now, almost paralyzed the way she was. Every now and then, her body would go through a full on spasm.
"You should thank me, Myrtle," Voldemort spoke, high and jeering. "I've given you a gift few ghosts get to experience: sensation again! The gift of pain itself! Didn't that feel wonderful? Don't you want me to do it again? To give you more of that feeling, after so long without?"
"Father," Daisy said flatly. "What I have to talk to you about is very important, and private. Can we- go? Please?"
Voldemort glanced at her, as if just remembering she was even there. He looked, for a moment, disappointed. He sighed, lowering his wand. "Yes, I suppose this little reunion is over. We have more important matters to be getting on with, don't we...Enough with the entertainment, and on to business. It was lovely seeing you again, dear Myrtle," he jested at the ghost one final time.
Daisy was quick to step over to the sink and speak the word in Parseltongue to open the entrance to the Chamber. She was even quicker to shroud herself in smoke, in weightlessness, and fly down the curving tunnel into darkness.
Daisy continued to fly onward, into the Chamber proper. She went right to the statue she had hidden her books behind, and picked up the one she needed. She turned back to her father, only to have him take it from her grasp immediately. There was a glint of recognition in his eyes.
"Where on earth did you find these old things?" he spoke, sounding half-way between impressed and amused. He caressed the cover, flipping it open absently to skim random pages. "Surely not the Restricted Section - they were removed decades ago, by Albus Dumbledore himself."
Daisy gave a shrug. "I have no idea," she said honestly. "I was just in my dorm one day and I - well - remembered I was a witch and so I...I used the summoning charm and thought about any books on Horcruxes. These came to me after a few minutes."
Voldemort gave a snort, shutting the book and handing it back to her. "Unbelievable; the old fool really kept these in the castle...? He should have destroyed them instead! Ah, well. His mistakes are to the advantage of us, my daughter. You've been finding them a useful resource, I'm sure?"
"Yes," Daisy said, again, entirely honestly. "In fact...there was a lot of things in here that I read that...we didn't talk about when we were here together last."
"Examples being...?"
"Well, you need to protect them with spells and traps-"
"We did go over that part together, Delphi."
"Yes, but, I mean-" Daisy tried to compose herself. "What spells did you use for yours? I don't know where I should start for mine. It would be helpful to have references. For example, your Diary one-"
"How do you know one of mine is a diary?" Voldemort interrupted coldly. Dangerously.
"Just- I put two and two together," Daisy went on carefully. "An object you gave to Lucius that had your birth name on it, and...the stories that- Harry Potter- used to tell me about Hogwarts. When he was here, he destroyed the Diary. But there was a...like a memory or a ghost of you - a younger you - and it was self aware and everything. Thinking, feeling. Using magic. It was trying to take the soul of a- Ginny Weasley- to bring itself to...physical form and power."
Voldemort released a measured breath. "Very well," he said softly. "You are...you can be...an intelligent girl when you wish to be. Truly. I am- impressed. What of it?"
"Well, how did you do that with the Diary? How does it work?"
Voldemort eyed her a long moment. He forced a thin smile, turning away to begin pacing before her. Speaking to her, as if giving a lecture. "The Horcrux is the title given to the object that contains the soul fragment - you know this. And even a piece of a soul splintered off from the main will possess memories, personality, and intellect of the original at the time of splintering. Even with as small as it is, reduced and perhaps, more brittle, it retains capacity for sapience. Of course, when placed inside an object, bound to it as we are all bound to our bodies upon birth, it cannot do much more besides think and feel to itself. If I were to remove your soul and place it into a chair rather than a human body, you would not imagine it would be a particularly stimulating experience, would you?"
"I- I'd imagine not," Daisy agreed, feeling horrified. "So- so you're saying- the point is that...a Horcrux can only do...as much as the container can let it do? Like we can touch and see because we have- arms and eyes and stuff?"
"Precisely," Voldemort nodded, satisfied. "For my...Diary Horcrux...my very first...I admit I got quite a bit carried away with it. I knew I would go on to make more - and very soon, in fact - and so I planned to use it for a specific purpose. I enchanted it...for a specific purpose. That which you know already, obviously: the reopening of this Chamber, and the release of the basilisk on the mudbloods of the school again. I gave it the means with which to interact with the world beyond itself, albeit still in quite a limited fashion - as well as the ability to touch the souls and minds of those who became...close to it, as people are wont to, and to put itself into those souls to possess them."
"And, how Harry Potter described the Horcrux taking- Ginny Weasley's life force from her to get a physical form...?" Daisy prompted. "Did you mean for him to do that, too?"
"No," Voldemort said, amused. "In fact, I freely admit I never considered the possibility that it would try something like that. I should have foreseen it, perhaps - I am nothing if not clever and resourceful, no matter what stage of life I was at."
"What if it had succeeded? What would you have done with it?"
"Hmm...I suppose I would have searched it out, and taken its physical form for myself, given my circumstances at the time," Voldemort replied thoughtfully. "Such close proximity would have likely caused a merger between fragment and master soul, however, so I would have lost one of my Horcruxes to the process."
Daisy bowed her head, looking intently at her own feet. She took a breath, and let it go. He had just given her the opening - practically dumped it in her lap! She raised her head, her face a mask of nothing, and spoke in a voice of utter calm. "That's something else I've wondered about, father. These books say remorse can repair a broken soul - bring the pieces back together again. A merger?"
"I did come across that aspect in my own research, yes," Voldemort responded idly.
"Do you think you would ever do that?"
"No." No hesitation. "Why would I?"
"Well, father, you did say it yourself, the last time we were down here: a whole, intact soul has its own great powers, doesn't it? It's stable, it's...strong. Naturally, right? Because that's the natural state of it - a whole...single thing. Not like a fractured pane of glass, or splintered wood. It's called damaging for a reason, isn't it?"
"Yes, but the damage is minimal, and the benefits we gain from taking advantage of the damage are infinitely worth it," Voldemort replied, seeming quite interested in the conversation now. Interested in talking with her.
"That's true," Daisy agreed swiftly. "But - just say that, in the course of further research into souls, you found out that there was something that would be worth reintegrating your soul, putting it all back together again? Some benefit, some gain, some power of its own, that only a whole soul could take advantage of? Wouldn't you want to try to do it, then? To not be...at a disadvantage compared to others who have whole souls still?"
Voldemort eyed her a long moment, unnerving in that Daisy had no idea which way he was going to jump. Then, to her surprise, he nodded. "There may indeed be...a thing or two well worth it. But it requires that further research, Delphini. Research I happen to currently still be conducting. The results are as of yet...inconclusive."
"Right..."
"Tell me what you are thinking."
"I just- are you even capable of it?"
"Capable of what?" Voldemort hissed, his eyes flashing. "What is it that you don't think I am capable of?"
"Reintegrating your soul," Daisy stated, as calm as she could. "The process requires remorse - can you feel that, father? Could you do it? Have you ever felt remorse before, ever-?"
Voldemort strode toward her - Daisy stumbled back - and he stopped. He drew a long breath, half raising his wand. Then he turned his back to her, gliding away before coming to a halt. Distance between them now. "If I ever came to the conclusion that it would be necessary to bring together the shards of my own soul again - to gain greater power, greater advantages I might have once...overlooked..." He seemed to be forcing every word from his mouth, every breath of air from his lungs. As if fighting himself intensely. "I would find a way to achieve the act. Nothing is beyond Lord Voldemort. No spell, no ritual, no sacrifice, no..."
"But have you, before? Even once?"
"No," Voldemort gritted. "Not once have I felt anything like remorse - for anything I have done."
"Not even at the orphanage? When you were little? The first time you ever hurt anyone else?"
Voldemort slowly turned to face her. "You would dare to use what I told you...against me?"
"No. I'm using it to help you." Daisy remained frozen where she was, bowing her head. Whatever would come would come.
"Perhaps...for an instant, the very first...but even that, I could not be certain of." Voldemort shook his head, returning from long past memories. "Why do you question me, Delphini?"
"I'm just trying...to help you, father. To help you...through this...snag." Daisy glanced up, taking a breath. "Isn't that why you want me here? To be the whole soul you don't have? To help you have- access to things you couldn't? To the feelings you can't feel? That's why you told me, down in the Chamber, that my soul has to be as intact as possible. You said it was so important. And this is why, isn't it? Because things like remorse...and love...are- currently beyond your grasp."
Voldemort's eyes widened. It was pure shock. "How could you possibly presume to know what Lord Voldemort-"
"The benefits of my whole soul?" Daisy offered quietly, unblinking as she held her father's gaze. "You can't wrap your head around how Dumbledore, or- Harry Potter thinks. How they feel. Why they do what they do...and how it always seems to work out so amazingly. The spirits at the graveyard, Lily's sacrifice..." she whispered on. "But you need to, if you're going to get a leg up on them all, don't you? And you want me to help you with this. With understanding. With feeling, yourself-"
"ENOUGH!"
Daisy went completely still. But she continued holding those wide eyes, continued to look into that evil face that was just flooded with...
"I can do something you can't, father: I could fix my soul - but you can't-"
"CRUCIO!"
For an eternity, Daisy screamed and floundered on the floor. But when it was over, she raised a shaking head to look on her father once more. To speak again. "Y-yet, father. I w-was going to say yet...because I'll help you how you want me to. The whole point...remember? But I can't help you with this...if you're going to crucio me for trying. You need...to let me talk. And you need to listen. Otherwise you won't get anywhere with this. I'm not a servant, I'm not a familiar - and I know I'm not your equal, either - but I am your daughter. I'm your family. And you have to let me be if you want to get what you want here. If you want...this," she finished softly. As she held those eyes still, she reached out with clumsy Legilimency to push old memories and emotions into the mind and soul of her father.
Voldemort's expression changed. Changed in a way Daisy never would have expected. There was not rage, there was not shock again, no - what was there...was fear. He looked afraid of her. Afraid of what she was sending him, in that moment. And then, he just looked pained: his hand clenched and unclenched at his side; his face spasmed; and then he closed his eyes and let out a long breath through slitted nostrils. He opened them again, and looked on her with calm - but he avoided meeting her eyes again so clearly.
"I...I'll consider your- your words, given your...intended purpose and- unique...perspective and abilities," he said, strangled. "But this does not mean you may disrespect me!"
"Of course not-"
"You will never invade my mind again!" Voldemort shrieked, and he tortured her again, vicious and lengthy. When he ended it, he spoke again in a very quiet voice. A deliberate tone. "It seems you failed to inform me in your letter...that you've been studying in the art of Legilimency."
"I apologize, father. You told me to learn all I could, to be the best I could be. That's all I've tried to do. And I thought- I thought if I mastered it and all...I could impress you with it when I finally told you."
"Yes, well..." Voldemort breathed heavily. "Let this be a lesson to you that childish ideas of impressing me...will not be done by withholding information from me. You may learn what you wish, do as you please - but you will tell me when you do. I will monitor you, and you may...attempt to impress me then, to my standards."
"Yes, father..." Daisy raised her head once more, and got to her feet on shaking legs. She fought not to just drop back down again. She locked her knees. "And- I think there's something else I can give you to consider, father. If you'd listen to me."
Voldemort's eyes became slits. Another breath, harsh and powerful. His wand twitched at his side. "Whatever it is, I will...consider it, yes."
Daisy took a breath, hoping it wouldn't be her last. This was the part where she would either die for it, or not. "Think about being Tom again."
"You will not use that name again!" Voldemort erupted, shrill and almost manic. "It is a filthy, disgusting, common muggle name - the name of the father I killed!"
"I know," Daisy said, trying to still be composed in front of the madness of her father. "But it's also your name. You try so hard to make everyone in the world afraid of the name Voldemort, but you're afraid of the name Tom Riddle. I think you're projecting."
"You dare-" Voldemort raised his wand at her.
"Are you going to listen to my advice, or just hurt me because you can't bear to hear it?!" Daisy shouted out swiftly, squaring her feet. "I'm going to tell you either way, father; Crucio me again and I'll just tell you after. You might as well skip that step!"
Voldemort's wand remained frozen in the air, leveled right at Daisy. A minute passed, and then he lowered it. He gave a mechanical nod. "Speak," he hissed out in Parseltongue.
"I know...that you hate it, and you're afraid of it, but you don't have to be scared of being Tom Riddle with me," Daisy whispered on. At least she wasn't dead. And if she wasn't dead, she could keep going with the plan.
Voldemort's face contorted, becoming more inhuman than ever. "What putrid nonsense is this, girl? You dare to imply Lord Voldemort is afraid of-"
"Listen to me!" Daisy hissed coldly in Parseltongue. "You threw away the name because all it does is bring you pain. The pain of a father who abandoned you, the pain of being alone and hurting in an orphanage. The pain of never knowing your mother. Or her love. Either of them! You never had family, or love, or happiness - and you can't face that! So you hide from it, you bury it as far as possible under Voldemort. The image of some great, feared, powerful dark lord! But Tom Riddle is still there under it all, no matter how hard you try to run away from the fact. You can never escape it, and that terrifies you. It infuriates you. Because that hurt is always going to be there inside you! The pain, and the loss. What's missing. But I can fix it, I can give it back to you - love, happiness, family! And I can make that pain go away, so you'll finally throw away the mask and be the man you're so afraid to be again: Tom Riddle."
"I fail to see...how any of this- this- this is meant to be useful advice!" Voldemort retorted, taking up a furious circling of Daisy, like a shark waiting to strike - to tear her apart.
But he hadn't yet.
So she gathered the last of her courage, and spoke on. "Don't you see it, father? You don't have to run and hide away from being Tom Riddle! What you need to do is to come to terms with being Tom! To accept it, to see it as a positive, a good thing, instead of a terrible, disgusting, horrid thing! You need to confront the pain, those feelings, not shove them down and try to ignore them! You need to do it for yourself, just in general, but also...if you're ever going to feel remorse and repair your soul - because only Tom Riddle can feel that way! Not Voldemort. As long as you're Voldemort, you'll never succeed at it. Tom Riddle can love - Voldemort can't! Not to any meaningful degree, anyway. So if you want that power, if you want those abilities, that insight, the advantages...then you're only going to obtain them in full as Tom."
"Just try, just for a start, just with me alone - just not losing your shit when the name is spoken. Try to separate your feelings from it. Strip away the negatives, and then we can start to apply positives to it. You need to take the weakness and turn it into strength. You need to take the name and make it something they fear! Do you think I'm going to throw away my name for some fancy new one? No: I'm going to make Delphini a name everyone fears! I'm going to make everyone fear me for me. Not for who I became. Not for a false mask I put on! The greatest killers and most feared monsters in the world...aren't people who took on shiny monikers and changed their appearances. They're the ones who managed to make their normal old names feared, the ones who could cause terror even with the most handsome of faces. They didn't have to put on a costume and play a part - they just were. They did it on their own, no help there, no tricks or tools. No evil red eyes, no demon appearance...just...themselves. And that takes more creativity, more talent, and makes a hell of a lot more of a statement, father, than all the effort you had to go through to change yourself into something terrifying today. At least, in my opinion. That's my advice, father. You can take it, or not. Just...think it over."
Voldemort took in a long breath through his nostrils - and let it go. "I refuse to even entertain the notion of-"
"Then you'll fail," Daisy hissed. "This? Your whole plan? This is the way the path leads - the road you want to walk now. You want to go toward love? You want it all for yourself? You have to go through remorse first if you want all of what love has to give. I can help you, I can give you little tastes and pieces of it, but to feel the full power of it all...for me to give you all of it, you need your whole soul, or you're not capable of receiving it. And you need remorse to get there. You said there's nothing you can't do, won't do - sacrifice? Well, either prove it, or we might have just found something you actually can't do, father. Something impossible for the great and powerful Dark Lord to achieve. Something that's forever going to be out of your reach. Something your enemies will stump you with, again and again, for all time-"
"Stop." Voldemort hissed, coming to a halt directly before her. Looming over her. "Stop talking, girl. Your words were said - I will decide whether they hold any merit or value now. You'll leave me to it, and not bring any of this up again until I deign to return to you to speak of it."
"Yes, father."
He gazed down at her still, seeming to be...indecisive. Uncertain, now. And agitated because of it. "What makes you speak with such certainty to me about these things - even at risk of punishment? Even in spite of it? What makes you so certain that I will fail unless I am to heed your troublesome advice?"
"The reason you know you need me for: my whole soul," Daisy said quietly. "My ability to love...and to feel remorse. I've felt love my whole life already, and you need that. You need me to give it to you. The advantages, the understanding...I already have all of that, father. I know love, I know souls that love - and I know Harry Potter, and anyone else like him. Because I'm the same, as much as I'm the same as you. It's an insight. It's not a thought, it's a feeling - it's just...something you know. And I know it. I know how it works, father, as surely as you know that when you cast Avada Kedavra, it'll kill someone, without fail."
"And you trust this feeling, do you? This certainty?"
"Yes. Lily Potter trusted it, unthinking, unhesitating, and look what it allowed her to do. Harry...trusted it, time and again, and you know what it let him do too."
"Then I will...trust your judgement, my daughter. But if I'm ever given reason to doubt it-"
"You won't."
"We shall see, I suppose...as we shall see where this endeavor leads us. Now, I think that is quite enough for one day's visit. Do not summon me here again." Voldemort turned away, and strode down the length of the Chamber, disappearing into the dark tunnel.
Daisy waited five whole minutes before her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed in a heap on the stone floor. Her whole body ran through with a tremor, and her hands came up to grasp at her head - to take handfuls of hair. She could not believe she had made it through that with only two sessions under the Cruciatus.
But she had made it through, and it had even seemed to succeed!
She had gotten through to her father.
Her plan would work.
She would get him to accept who he really was, and he would feel love, and that would lead him to remorse, and that would lead him to repairing his soul. And then, after his soul was whole again, she would kill his mortal, twisted arse for good and forever.
Daisy rolled onto her back, gazing up at the ceiling high above. She let out a giddy laugh that echoed through the Chamber of Secrets, and soon found she could not even stop. It turned manic as her father's, as a broad smile split her face.
She wasn't even disappointed that he had not deigned to show her any more castle secrets (and was unlikely to for a long time coming).
Right then, she was just relieved beyond measure, and damn pleased with herself.
A dark shape glided across the countryside, smoke rippling...
Why did I stay my wand with her? Lord Voldemort thought to himself, losing himself to the air and the world. The coolness washing over him, to still the rage in his heart. Why had he not made her pay for every inch and second of that defiance, that outrageous, insulting, degrading, childish tirade of hers?! She thought she knew him, she thought she knew anything - all because he had once told her about the hated orphanage? About killing his father, about never knowing his mother?
This girl, his girl, his daughter, thought she could give him advice? Suggestions?
And she truly expected him to follow it? Give it any weight?! How laughable! How ludicrous!
And yet...
Why had he not punished her for all she was worth? Why had he bothered hearing her out?
Was it even possible...that something in all she had hurled at him was true?
No, surely not...
It was nonsense - insulting nonsense!
And yet...
Her crude attempt at Legilimency, those feelings and memories accompanying them all, shoved into his mind, down into his soul to touch and burn in agony...And in that agony...
In that moment...
As in every moment when she would dare to lay hand on him and...
There was something beneath or inside the pain, every time, something that...that made him always accept it when it happened again, when she did it again.
He thought he had almost developed something of a tolerance for it, in fact.
But this - those things she had said in the Chamber - he could not tolerate. So why had he?
Because he was not a fool, because even sometimes the most idiotic child could say something profound or useful? Because she was his daughter? Because she had shown such bravery and determination beyond anything before, in standing back up again after his curses? In forging ahead anyways to him?
Why...?
Why was she so troubling but still so...endearing?
And why hadn't he cursed her again?!
He felt as if he was going to go mad trying to understand himself - that which he could not understand in himself! Something had happened, in that instant, something had...and he did not know what it was. What reason, what purpose, what...
Why did I lower my wand?