Author's Note: So I had this chapter ready to go two days early, and I figured why not put it out today? xD Gives me more time to work on the next, in fact, which is going to be an extra lengthy one! :D So enjoy this one!
End of AN!
Voldemort sat alone in his study in Riddle Manor, pouring over the old parchment spread out before him by candle light.
Yet he found he could not remain focused on even this leisurely pursuit.
His mind was, as it often was lately, elsewhere. Specifically: back with his daughter.
Try as he might, he could not stop remembering the troublesome encounter in the Chamber.
Could not stop remembering how, amongst all the drivel she had spewed at him, she had expressed an honest and total desire to...help him. To willingly give her aid to him in what she had somehow discovered was his long term goal: love, and the acquisition of its great power. His goal, and his goal for her. His use for her, key among several others.
Yet upon learning it, knowing it, revealing it to him in person...she had not used it against him. She had not jeered, she had not dangled it before him as if some prize snatched from his mind. Instead, she had only, greatly, passionately expressed her wish to help him achieve it.
That, combined with her reckless secrets in hopes of gaining skill enough to impress him...
Spare me the naiveté of a child, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Even my own. At her age, I was not caught up in such...foolishness. Perhaps, he mused, it was the difference between boy and girl? God knew that Bella had some similar, maddening, unceasing desire to please and impress him, against all odds and treatment to the contrary! Even his outright efforts to refuse her, to flat out say no were never heeded for more than a few minutes!
Or maybe the difference lay in that cursed, initial six years lived with Potter and his traitor wife. Voldemort had grown up in an orphanage, not a "normal" family or household. Delphini, perhaps, had this specific desire to catch his attention and his praise because she had had people around her she wanted to do so for. Voldemort had never genuinely sought to impress any adults in his life. At Hogwarts, he had only ever tried to charm or impress specific teachers for specific ends - Head Boy-ship, or information most valuable and sought after (such as Horcruxes from Slughorn). So it had been for everyone in his life, even after, and even before.
Yes, perhaps it was their differences in upbringing. Had not the girl herself alluded to that, in some surprising bout of self-awareness? Of cleverness, intellect?
If she truly wished only to help him achieve his goal in this matter...should he not accept it from her? She, herself, was, after all, the very key and object he needed to reach it! If he had her cooperation, things would go much smoother. Would perhaps even be accelerated. Not that that was a concern for an immortal - but sometimes even he found himself getting impatient with things.
As for the rest of her childish, borderline insane driveling...
About his family, about parents, about taking back his name, about fearing it, fearing loneliness, the loss of mother's love of his own, his father's abandonment, fearing pain and weakness-
No! How dare she, how dare that impudent little girl presume to know so much about him, about how he operated, about how he felt! Who was she to do that?!
His daughter...? His daughter who could indeed feel and know things he could not...?
Who, by her own claims, already possessed that which he was only now pursuing...
Instincts, impulses, insights, she had rambled on about?
That was most definitely a realm in which Voldemort knew quite little. Had little experience. He operated on logic, on intelligence, on cleverness and subtlety.
But love was none of those things, was it?
It was all the things his daughter claimed it was.
For her to claim so factually, so confidently, that he would never achieve his goal here, never succeed in this unless he succumbed to her ridiculous ramblings she called "advice"! What did she know, how could she know?!
It always came back to that, didn't it?
Somehow, by some divine magic or fact of soul and existence...she just...knew.
As she had put it: the advantages of her whole soul, the very thing he hoped to maintain, to use as a tool in his own search for that power...
And try as he might to summon the anger, to argue it away, to dismiss it all...he could not force himself to say it was not the truth.
As much as he hated to ever admit it...
Someone else was right, and he was wrong.
And he would be an utter fool not to take his daughter's offer of cooperation in stride, at the very least.
As for the rest...
Could he truly not obtain the power he sought if he did not do as she said? If he did not take on that wretched name again, if he did not become Tom again? If he did not heal his soul via remorse? Stop shying from pain and weakness of the past?
If that was the case...if it was even remotely true...
More of her words rang in Voldemort's mind.
Troubling words.
How would he make himself feel remorse of any kind, to repair his soul and gain the power he was seeking?
He had told her the truth: he had never once felt remorse for anything he had done in life. Not once, not even an inkling of it as he understood it.
But he was Voldemort, he could do anything, would do anything - even sacrifice body and soul to...
But that was the problem here, wasn't it?
He had sacrificed soul, and now found himself deeply unsure of himself, for the first time in decades.
Had he truly made a wrong choice? Not considered the full consequences of his actions?
He admitted he had been quite young when he had made them - had not exactly, fully read as much as he could on the subject...
Had certainly never once considered the passage about restoring his soul to wholeness and unity again! What use would that have been, after all?! He would have been right back where he started!
But could he feel remorse? Could he make himself feel it, if he ever truly found it necessary to bring his soul back together? Perhaps for love's power?
Nothing was beyond him, not a thing in this world! With enough time, with enough effort, he could achieve anything!
Except...perhaps...for this.
Was his daughter right? Was such a thing beyond him?
Would he never be able to lay claim to the great power others championed? Was it forever out of his grasp, because of what he had done to his soul so long ago, as a teenager who had been - as his daughter had put it - afraid? Afraid of weakness, afraid of death? Had he made that decision out of fear and panic, not the calculation and intelligence he liked to believe?
Was he truly so afraid of that name, of all it entailed - a worthless father and a weak mother, and a difficult time in the orphanage - that he was running from it? And in doing so, denying himself love's power forever?
Was he acting as his own worst enemy, in this case? Were his own actions preventing him from obtaining love, from all that his daughter...had said she could give him if he only was to accept it from her?
She had spilled such drivel to him, about family, about being his daughter, as if that meant something to Voldemort, as if it should mean something...
In the realm of love and souls, should it, in fact, mean something? Did it? Was it...supposed to? For him to find what he was looking for, must he embrace it?
Had he made a mistake in splitting his soul as he had?
He had never much reflected on the past - not like this. He did not second guess himself, he did not doubt! He always looked ahead, instead. At the future, at the future of the world that would be his! All he could do - never a mind for all he had done. He was always sure of his own actions, and even his thoughts!
He had conceded alone that love was powerful in its own right - but that was all!
That did not have to mean his Horcruxes were a mistake, his immortality, his...it did not!
But, perhaps, in this instance, in this singular pursuit...it would in fact require some further reflection? Some...more reconsiderations? Some hard truths, some real admissions again?
It had been so long, and he had never once...not until his daughter had dared to...
Voldemort closed his eyes, and pressed his fingertips into them.
That damnable child. This will take far too much thought, for far too long; I suspect I will go mad long before I come to any decision on my next course of action...
Christmas was but a few weeks away.
Winter had fallen on the castle, truly now.
One snowy, cold Sunday, Daisy got dressed, did her hair, ignored Edith ignoring her, and left the Tower to go down to breakfast.
When she saw Edith enter the Great Hall and sit down at the far end of the Gryffindor table, Daisy continued doing her part in respectfully ignoring her existence, focusing on a plate of eggs and delicious ham instead.
Daisy allowed for a small smile as she ate. It was a free day today: one she was planning to spend with Rigel. They were going to make snowmen, and have snowball fights - and everything! It was going to be a great, fun day!
"YOU! YOU VILE, DISGUSTING MUDBLOOD!"
Or maybe it wouldn't, if this was how it was going to start.
Jessica was striding toward the Gryffindor table, brandishing a newspaper. She shoved it at Edith, then shoved at Edith, clawing at her and hitting her. Screaming at Edith, spitting profanities at her of all kinds!
Daisy jumped up and flicked her wand, yanking the girl back away from Edith sharply, as if a giant had tugged on the back of her robes. "What the hell is your problem with her now?" she said furiously. "I told you not to mess with her! Edith, are you...Edith? What is it?"
Edith had the newspaper held before her eyes, her hair frazzled. Her eyes widened, then she crumpled the paper up. She tossed it across the table and leapt up from her seat, starting away. "Don't bother with it," she said, indifferent.
"NO!" Jessica shrilled, lunging after Edith again. "No, you look at it, you tell everyone what your degenerate mother did!" The girl's face was red, her breaths were harsh and shallow, and...there were tears in her eyes, Daisy saw now.
Daisy aimed her wand, summoning the newspaper to hand. She smoothed it out, and stared at the front page.
"Read it for everyone," Jessica urged her, a catch in her voice.
Daisy glared at the girl - then glowered around herself at the other students who were watching the scene so closely. Ordinarily, she would never have been inclined to do anything just because this girl told her to - but in this case...
A good girl would try to understand.
Edith had stopped, but she kept her back to them. Daisy heard her draw a sharp breath, saw her hands turn to fists at her sides.
Daisy began to read. "Jennifer Coleman, self-proclaimed leader of the rebel group 'Amethyst Griffons', led an attack on the home of a prominent Auror, Lucinda Henwich, and her family - consisting of husband, Markus Henwich, and three month old son, Zachary Henwich. Protective enchantments were broken, and a Blasting Curse was cast into the family's bedroom from the outside window. Zachary Henwich was asleep in his crib next to his mother's bed when the Curse erupted..."
Daisy set the newspaper down on the table, a sick feeling twisting her guts up inside as she looked at Edith.
Edith must have sensed her gaze; she finally turned around, and looked her in the eye without flinching.
"Your mother invaded our home, broke our enchantments, and threw a Blasting Curse into my parents' room when they were asleep. My baby brother's crib was right there with them, right next to the bed. And your mother didn't care. She blew them all up. And it isn't the first time!" Jessica was ranting again, screaming at Edith, her voice raw and thick.
"At least she did it on accident," Edith scoffed out, refusing to look at Jessica - only continuing to hold Daisy's gaze, her own as hard as steel. "How many mudblood babies have the Death Eaters killed on purpose? How many times has the ministry broken into a home, killed our parents, and taken away our kids and thrown them into camps?" She thrust out her arm and pulled up her sleeve. "I'm sorry you can't handle a taste of your own medicine. Here's a tip: Don't work for an oppressive death regime and you won't get targeted for revenge!"
"Revenge for what?" Jessica shrieked.
"Let me think: probably the seven muggle families your mother rounded up and sent to the camps just last month," Edith replied, her eyes narrowed. "I've lived in one of them - as you love reminding me about - and guess what? They're not a vacation resort."
"And what did my brother do to deserve getting murdered in his crib?!"
"Nothing," Edith laughed. "But if you think Death Eaters can sentence people to camps, then go home and hide behind babies, playing the innocent act, it's not going to work on my mum. If it had been me in there with them, she still wouldn't have hesitated to do it," she added with a flippant little shrug.
Jessica backed away, tearful, shaking her head. "That's- just sick, you're wrong, your mother is evil, you're-"
"You hear me? Morons!" Edith shouted to the hall, turning and casting her arms out. She looked to the staff table, a feral grin on her face. "Having me here isn't going to make my mum stop! She'll come after you - all of you - and she'll kill you no matter where you are! Your days are all numbered! The Amethyst Griffons will find you and give you what's-"
Daisy struck Edith with a Stunning Spell, watching her drop like a sack of potatoes. She strode forward and picked Edith up in her arms. And she carried her away, out of the Great Hall. She carried her all the way to an abandoned classroom on the first floor, in fact. Only there did she lay her down, sit herself down right beside her, and wake her with a silent flick of her wand.
Edith blinked, coming back to herself slowly. She stared around herself, then met Daisy's eyes. "You finally decided to interrogate me," she said, almost casually. "This is going to be annoying. You won't even get anything out of me that the Ministry didn't already, I can tell you that."
"I'm not interrogating you - I just want to ask you a few things."
"That's what an interrogation is, idiot."
"No - it would only be an interrogation if I smacked you around or cursed you for not answering me," Daisy retorted. "And I promise I won't do that."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Welp, bye, then." Edith jumped to her feet and stalked for the exit.
Daisy gave her wand a swift flick; the door shuddered, and the lock clicked into place.
Edith stopped, her body going rigid. "That didn't take long," she said tightly.
"I'm not going to hurt you...but you're not leaving until you tell me some things," Daisy said, trying to sound apologetic. "Just- tell me and you can go. It's easy. Look, if you really already told the Ministry anything valuable, what's the harm?"
"Well, it's a huge waste of my time," Edith gritted out, clenching shaking fists at her sides. "My breakfast is going to be cold by the time I get back to it."
"Then answer me and you can be out in under a minute - tops," Daisy responded calmly. "I'll even reheat it for you."
"You mean poison it - no thank you, princess."
Daisy sighed. She was starting to see why ignoring each other really had been the better option. "Just - what does the Order of the Phoenix think about the Amethyst Griffons?"
Edith didn't move an inch. Slow, shallow breaths were taken in and released again. Her back heaved. "If I remember it right, they've had some radio broadcasts about mum's people before. The official position is they don't associate with 'extremist organizations', and that 'there's a right way and a wrong way to help overthrow tyranny,' or some crap - but I bet that's just what they tell everyone to look good. This is war: looking nice and neat doesn't matter. What matters is tearing down the regime, one person at a time! My mum isn't an extremist, she's just willing to do what the Order won't because they're too much of a pack of scaredy cats!" she finished, breathless and passionate - loud and clear.
Daisy didn't know if she agreed, exactly, with that sentiment, but...who was she to even judge, anyway? Her own perspective couldn't be trusted - not even by herself. And it was only going to get worse...
"We need to make them regret taking power," Edith continued, fierce and low. "Make them regret every last person they sentence to those camps, and make them regret every last law they put in place! And we need to make them all regret every single day they spend not doing anything to stop it! The whole country is full of cowards and idiots who won't stand up and fight! My mum is! Her people are! They're out fighting - and nothing is going to stop them! Not even keeping me here and Crucio-ing me a million times over! Every last person who's playing a part in this will get what they deserve in the end!"
"And the people who are just in the way? Like Jessica's little brother?"
"I already told you: they don't get to hide behind babies and act like they're suddenly not evil bastards who shouldn't be hurt."
"But your mother didn't hurt an evil bastard; she hurt a baby who had nothing to do with it."
"She made the smart choice to hit them when they were vulnerable. What, was she supposed to check and see if there was a baby in there? Is she supposed to check every Death Eater house for babies? That would just be giving up her advantage."
"Well...it would be the right thing to do," Daisy whispered, knowing it was the truth. At least that. It was what her daddy would have said. In fact, her daddy would have probably gone and taken the baby in! Given them to a nice, happy family of muggleborn or half-blood spouses or whatnot. Like he himself had taken in Daisy, never blamed her or hated her for her parentage...
"People are wasting their time with the right thing," Edith said harshly. "What has that gotten anybody? What did it get-" She cut herself off sharply, taking a quivering breath.
"What did it get who?"
"No one, now - because of them," Edith ground out. At last, she turned to face Daisy. Her face was red, her eyes bloodshot, and her jaw was trembling. "Let me out of here or I'll make your time hell, princess. You'll regret every second you keep me here," she went on, holding Daisy's gaze. "I did it to the last person, and I can do it again. At least I can be satisfied with myself if I take some flesh and blood away with me after you're through with me."
Daisy stared at her in shock. She shook her head and gave her wand a flourish, causing the door to unlock and spring wide open. "Sorry..."
"Oh, not yet - but you will be!" Edith snarled, whirling away and fleeing the room at a dead run.
Daisy stowed her wand away, wondering whether she could still salvage the day or not - or if this whole affair was going to be stuck in her head for a while yet.
Well, she supposed a good girl would try anyway - for Rigel's sake, more than her own. That girl needed some real, carefree happiness and relaxation in her life.
That was right; a good girl would do it for Rigel, not for herself.
Selflessness, not selfishness.
To make Rigel happy - not a care for her own (or at least, not as much).
Daisy built up her snowman, daring to go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to sever branches from the trees to be used as arms, snagging two pebbles to become eyes, and removed her winter hat to place on its head as finishing touch.
She eyed the creation critically, and then she waved her wand before her with great concentration.
Her snowman quivered and glowed blue. Then, it started to move. To spin and sway and dance!
Daisy beamed with satisfaction, as Rigel broke into giggles and a big smile of her own as she watched the snowman, mesmerized.
And then it took a bow and reached up for its hat, and promptly fell apart.
Daisy pressed her lips together, staring at the mess that was once her greatest creation. She glanced at Rigel, whose laughter had died swiftly. Her cheeks flushed in the cold. "It was my first time with that charm!" she burst out, silently summoning her hat back into hand. She smacked it down over her ears, turning her head away from Rigel.
"I k-know!" Rigel assured. "I t-think it was still g-great! It'll l-last longer w-with- p-practice, I'm s-sure!"
"Of course it will," Daisy said firmly. "I'll get it right - I'll make it perfect!"
She dedicated herself to just that over the course of the next two hours.
Rigel helped her build up more snowmen a lot faster for testing purposes, and she even tried the charm a few times herself (hers never did more than a few seconds of wriggling - and yet despite this, she seemed to be really enjoying herself).
In the end, together they built a small group of seven snowmen.
Daisy aimed her wand and gave a grand sweeping gesture, crying out the incantation.
Her personal troupe were an uncoordinated, shameful mess.
Despite this, Rigel clapped and cheered for them. She even encouraged Daisy!
Daisy hurled a snowball at her face in a fit of embarrassment - but Rigel liked that, too. Rigel began to return fire, and soon Daisy's feelings were swept away by other, much more pleasant ones. Pure happiness - and maybe a dash of an edge of competitiveness.
Daisy unapologetically used her own creations for cover.
Rigel, equally unashamedly, ultimately maneuvered Daisy into a position where she could then topple one of her snowmen and bury her!
Oh, Daisy cried foul on that one (despite that there were no formal rules to this battle) - but, admittedly, not for too long. She couldn't help being impressed with the girl's guts and cleverness.
For all her stuttering woes and tininess, there was something underneath it all, something in Rigel, that was just...
Daisy liked it.
The day before they were all meant to go home for Christmas break (or not, for those who had no homes to go back to), Daisy stared as Rigel walked into the Tower's common room, a box in her hands. Gift wrapped!
Blushing furiously, she held it out to Daisy.
Daisy took it, leading her up wordlessly into the first year dorm room for girls. She sat on her bed, giving it a little pat; Rigel joined her there. Daisy focused on the gift, and set about opening it by hand. She just about gasped as she saw what was in it.
It was a necklace. It had a gleaming silver chain, and a hexagonal, emerald crystal pendant attached to it. As long as her finger (and about as thick).
Daisy glanced up at Rigel, who was looking incredibly flustered. "Rigel, I- I love it. It's- beautiful and...but how did you even get this?" she asked.
"I a-asked a f-few people for some g-gold for mail order," Rigel began, a sly look on her face. "I m-might have t-told them all it w-was for y-you, a-and as y-your m-mudblood pet, you o-ordered m-me to d-do it for y-you. 'Cause you c-couldn't b-be...b-bothered, you k-know? T-they were all t-too happy to g-give me the p-password to get in here, t-too!"
"That's really smart," Daisy said, amused as much as impressed. "And this is really, really wonderful. It really is! But- what is it even for?"
"J-just t-thanks for being my f-friend," Rigel replied, looking away, her pale cheeks pinker than ever. "I d-didn't think t-things would be any d-different here than- than at the c-camps, but...y-you've m-made it d-different for me."
Daisy hugged her, then put her necklace on right away. She felt like she was about to cry. She didn't want to cry! She hated crying! She opted to hug Rigel again, using her as cover. "T-thank you, I- you have no idea how much this means to me in my life right now..." she choked, shutting her eyes as she buried her face into Rigel's shoulder.
Rigel patted at her back rather awkwardly - but she had a big smile on her face that lasted quite a while.
Alone in her bed later that night, Daisy grasped the emerald in hand. After one of the best days in her life, she now had to think about one of the worst that was still to come. The day she would make her Horcrux. From all she knew, the pieces she had put together over the years, her father seemed to have chosen personal or historically valuable and important items to host his soul shards - that diary, and that locket... She decided, then, for herself, that there was no item more fitting than this necklace to be made into hers. A treasure of her own already, that she would always cherish. A symbol and reminder of her friendship and good memories with Rigel - and that someone, at least, did think of her as a good person.
That she...could be a good person to someone, despite everything she had ever done - and would one day do.
One day very soon.