Author's note:
Greetings, all. It's been a
while since I've posted anything. Thank
w&m_law and Tessie for kicking me in the ass until I finally did post
something. So, Amy, Tessie, this is for
you.
Hopefully, I'll stay on another "gotta write fic" obsession
for a couple of months again. J Here's my first effort at a Voldemort
fic. How it ties into Antonia's story
will be obvious much later on. For now,
though, just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Disclaimer: We all know that I'm just borrowing the characters,
and I'm not making a dime from it.
Besides, I'm a hopelessly broke college student, so there's not much
point in suing. I don't have anything,
anyway.
Now, on with our featured presentation…
********************************************************************************************
1959
Crimson and
scarlet flooded the room with its rich light.
The ball of fire sank below the horizon in defeat as the darkness
conquered the light; embers of the dying day bathed the gray cell in its orange
and red warmth, pouring in through the miniscule window near the low
ceiling. The woman pushed back an
errant blond lock and stood on the cot shoved against the wall. Stretching, she stared out the tiny window
into the sunset. It hadn't been that
long ago since the witch and her partner in life, her love, had watched this
together.
Her lover,
of course, was no longer with her.
Yes,
certainly, he was still alive, but he was not the flesh and blood lover that
had seduced her away from everything…
No, now he was just a monster.
If he would
just show some sign that he loved her, that he was the same man that she fell
in love with, then she would forgive him anything…
The woman
unwound her slender fingers from the bars on the window and slid down the wall,
until she had settled back on the fetid cot that had been her bed for the
past… Gods, it seemed as though she'd
been locked up here forever.
The woman
lay back in the darkness and reflected upon the irony of the situation… She, the daughter of a Dark Lord, was now
the prisoner of one… A mirthless
laughter tripped forth from her lips…
I'm
going to die in here… I'll die like a
filthy muggle in this disgusting place…
She sighed and ran a grubby hand through her dulled hair, knowing she
looked a fright. A cigarette would
be so very nice…
Of course,
she had none; her Dunhills had been confiscated along with her wand…
No, all
that was left for her here was her thoughts…
* *
*
1946
She sat in
the room with them all, quiet and silent among the chatter of the other first
years… She wore her plain black robes,
looking like all of the other students in the room, but knowing that she was
not like them.
"Green, Randall,"
the transfiguration professor announced.
The boy
trotted up to the stool and had the tattered old hat placed upon his head. Almost immediately, the hat screamed
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Grinning,
the plump boy clumsily ran to the Hufflepuff table, where he sat with his
cheering housemates.
"Grindelwald,
Angelina!"
There was
silence. Angelina saw the faces of some
of her schoolmates… Horror… Shock… Disgust…
Terror… It was all there. There was no good-natured cheering for
Angelina.
Slowly, she
walked up to the stool. Her head was
bowed, her pace sedate. She had the
look of a girl expecting execution, rather than the act of putting on a very
decrepit hat.
She sat in
the chair and looked up at the man holding the sorting hat with fear in her
large blue eyes. Fear? Of course she was afraid… This was the man that killed her father.
He placed
the faded black hat over her shiny blond hair and felt the soft material cover
the alabaster flesh of her forehead.
There was a voice, a secret little voice that whispered inside her head…
"You've
seen things, haven't you, Fräulein Grindelwald? You'll be a tough one, but I know that we'll find the right house
for you… You're certainly brave enough,
but you view bravery as a necessity, not a character attribute… You're certainly a hard worker, but you
prefer to use your head to get things done… But, you are very shrewd… You've learned much from your father,
haven't you? And there's that
ambition… You want to be great, do
you? Any of the houses would be lucky
to have you, but I'd have to say that it'd better be..." the hat announced
to all, "SLYTHERIN!"
There was
some polite applause, coupled with a weary glance at her housemates. Of course, Angelina, the Dark Lord's
daughter, couldn't be expected to go anywhere but Slytherin, the house of the
first Dark Lord, himself…
Angelina
felt the hat lift from her head and a gentle hand lift her from the stool… She looked up at the dancing blue eyes and
saw him… Yes, it was, without a doubt,
Albus Dumbledore, the one who had killed her father.
She felt
like throwing up on the man's shoes.
She felt
like throwing her arms around him and thanking him for rescuing her.
Regardless
of what she felt, the fact remained.
Albus Dumbledore killed her father, as cold and callous as her father
himself could be. Her father loved her,
in his own way…
Dumbly, she
walked over to her house table, thinking of her father… She remembered when Vater would
balance her on his shoulders, or when he would have her dance with his servants
after dinner… There were the nights of
plotting strategy in the war against the Muggles… Vater loved it when she would play Schubert pieces on the
piano… Of course, he might have been bösest
unehelich, or the most vicious bastard, but he still loved her.
And here
she was, making nice with the man who killed him.
And how
many did your father kill, Angelina?
She hated that little voice that spoke up in the back of her head…
Angelina
sat down at the table and noticed that they were pulling their chairs away from
her… Well, all of them except for one…
She looked
up at him and smiled. He was definitely
the most handsome boy she'd ever seen…
He smiled back at him, his green eyes flashing as his lips twisted into
a faint smile.
"Welcome to
Slytherin, Angelina," he greeted.
She
shivered at the sound of his voice, how low it was… This boy was so much older…
Sixteen? Seventeen? However old he was, he was nearly ready to
leave Hogwarts…
"Thank
you," she whispered, feeling shy in the face of such kindness…
"My name is
Tom," he greeted, offering her his hand.
"Tom Riddle," he introduced as her tiny hand slipped into his large,
decidedly masculine one.
She felt a
charge through her fingers from his touch, one that was purely electric. When she looked into eyes the color of
emeralds, she knew. I'm going to be
with him for the rest of my life. He
will be my prince, and he will make me his queen.
That was
when Angelina Grindelwald fell in love with Tom Marvolo Riddle.
* *
*
1959
"Tom!" she screamed. She'd made him her prince, and he'd made her
his queen, as she knew would happen…
But Tom, her love, her prince…
How could he betray her like that?
They had the world at their fingertips, and he threw her in this dungeon
without him.
What a cruel
irony that you leave me the sunset, my love… she thought bitterly. How many sunsets did we watch
together? Under how many sunsets did
you swear that you would die for me?
Instead, you leave me here to die alone.
She
narrowed her eyes at the guard who came with a tray of food. "Your… your dinner, milady," he stuttered.
"Where is
your master?" she hissed.
"I couldn't
tell you," the inept guard whimpered.
She was beautiful, still, even though she'd aged, even though she was
being kept like an animal…
The guard
knew that she would still be deadly.
"Should you
see your master, remind him that his queen is rotting away in the dungeons…"
she purred. Her voice took on a
dangerous edge, while maintaining the sensuous quality. "Remind him that we are, in fact, two of a
kind, and he knows what he would do when cornered like this…"
He backed
away from the door, seeing the deadly glint in the witch's eye. Aye, she'd be calling down her father's gods
for this betrayal. The guard knew that
he didn't want to be anywhere around when they answered.
* *
*
1946
Angelina
smiled with delight when their dinner instantly materialized upon her
plate. Granted, it would not be the
cooking that she was familiar with back in Austria, but what could she expect
from the English? Certainly, it would
be the end of bratwurst and beer, and there'd be no sauerkraut with dinner…
"How did
you take your dinner in Austria, Angelina?" Tom asked, observing her delight at
the magically materializing food.
"House
elves, of course. Vater would
not allow anyone else to touch my food for fear of poisoning. His servants all knew the sacred rule: Lass
Deine Finger davon mein Tochter!"
Tom looked
puzzled.
She
smiled. "I'm sorry, I do so much better
in German," she apologized. Her
English, however, was the crisp English of the British aristocracy. She sounded like a little girl educated
along side the queen's own children, rather than an Austrian student.
He gave an
amused smile to the little girl beside him and waited for her to translate.
"It
translates out to something like 'Keep your hands off my daughter!'"
Riddle
laughed, placing his hand on the small of her back.
Angelina
felt herself melt beneath his touch.
Yes, she knew it was true. Her
destiny was with Tom Riddle.
Tom smiled
down at her, amused. Angelina
Grindelwald, only child and princess of the vanquished Dark Lord, was sitting
beside him, hanging on his every word…
She was a cute little kid, too…
And she would grow up to look like the proverbial ice maiden, so Nordic
was she in appearance.
He would
enjoy having the little girl around…
She certainly had to know her share of the Dark Arts, and there was no
way she'd be a muggle lover… Not with a
father like Helmut Grindelwald teaching her the ways of a proper witch.
At the end
of the feast, Headmaster Dippet stood up and cleared his throat. "Now that we've all been sorted, Welcome to
Hogwarts'. There are only good things
to come here, now that the Dark Lord Grindelwald has been vanquished…"
Angelina flinched. My father is dead, and he can stand up
there and announce that this is a wonderful thing for the world at large? She resisted the urge to stand up and
scream, "What about me, damn it! What
about me?"
Dippet continued in his speech,
oblivious to the little Austrian witch at the Slytherin table. "It is time for Witchcraft and Wizardry to
be practiced without fear, it is time for us to enjoy our glory, and to
circulate freely around the world. Now
is when we can safely learn our crafts, without fear of the dark mage coming
down upon us."
Angelina,
however, gripped her knife very tightly…
Her knuckles were turning white.
I could kill you where you stand…and I won't even need a wand to do
it…
Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw Tom look at her.
She forced her fingers to relax and peered up at him. He didn't avert his gaze, but continued to
watch her.
Angelina
smiled beautifully, bestowing Tom with the same smile that made her father and
Heinlen (Grindelwald's heir apparent) melt.
Tom smiled
back at her, but it didn't reach his green eyes. He leaned close and whispered to her, "Don't worry about him,
Angelina. His time will come."
Her blue
eyes glared at the headmaster. Yes,
Dippet, your time will come… You will
find out why Grindelwald is still a name to fear, she thought
furiously. You're too cowardly to
take on my father, but at least Dumbledore was courageous enough to do it on
his own, without hiding behind a score of others for protection. Dumbledore may have taken my father, but he,
at least, doesn't gloat about it…
Angelina
shifted her gaze to Professor Dumbledore.
He was a handsome man, with long strawberry blond hair and a flowing
beard. His blue eyes sparkled with
amusement; he radiated kindness and solidarity. Dumbledore, at least, was a man worthy of challenging her father.
Dippet,
however, was not even worthy of speaking her father's name.
* *
*
1959
"The Master
says he does not wish to see you, milady," the one inept guard huffed as he
walked in. The guard still gazed upon
his queen warily. Though she was
unarmed, there was no telling what the witch would do… The witch was equally as cunning as the
master.
She
laughed. "He can't live without me much
longer, you know. He won't keep me
locked away over this stupidity. Not
when he knows how much he needs me… And
not when he knows that I can hurt him as much as he can hurt me…"
"I'm sorry,
milady… The Master will do as the
Master pleases… I can't tell him what
to do or think…" The guard looked as
though he was experiencing the stuffs that nightmares were made of.
And he was,
but not his nightmares…
She didn't
hear him. Instead, the young witch
focused on the thoughts in the back of her head, where the harsh truths
dwelt. The twenty-four year old witch
realized that she'd given over half of her life to Tom Riddle, but the first
half was given simply for her father…
Angelina Grindelwald was a Dark Princess. She'd dedicated her life to serving the Dark Arts, even when she
herself had sworn to forsake them… If
Tom… Lord Voldemort… really did cast her aside, what would be left for her?
Then, the
little voice spoke up. Vengeance.
She smiled
coldly. "Let the Master know
that if I cannot do what needs to be done in this life, the gods will surely
see to it that I do it in the next…"
He scurried
away…
The witch
sighed. One would think that he'd at
least make the effort to give me a decent guard, rather than this little pansy…
But it's
not over, my love. The gods will give
me another chance to destroy you before I am carried off to Valhalla with my
father… Either you want me by your
side, or you wish me dead.
"But even
so, I still love you," she whispered, throwing herself down on the dirty
cot. She just hoped it didn't have
fleas.
* *
*
1946
Armand
Dippet, pompous windbag idiot himself, stood in the Great Hall, still rambling
in his endless stupidities. "Now, the
heads of House are Professor Dumbledore for Gryffindor, Professor Gardner for
Hufflepuff, Professor Wise for Ravenclaw, and Professor Thanatos for
Slytherin."
Angelina
watched them stand up and survey the students.
Dumbledore looked particularly pleased with his group, while Gardner
looked relatively dim. Professor Wise
was a pretty young witch, intelligence radiated from her. Thanatos… Thanatos was a frightful looking man, tall and pale, very Greek
looking, with a black beard hanging from his jutting chin… Dressed in black, he looked more like he
should be the Lord of the Underworld, himself…
Yes, seeing a man such as that silhouetted by the night sky of the
ceiling was, indeed, deliciously appropriate.
Dippet
began speaking again, in his reedy, melodramatic voice, "Head Boy, Tom Riddle
of Slytherin. Head Girl, Deborah
Montrose of Gryffindor."
Beside her,
Tom Riddle rose to his great height, towering over her. Gods, but he is beautiful, she
thought, feeling her heart skip a beat at this beautiful, beautiful boy. Tom, of course, was tall, dark, and
handsome, and bore much more than a passing resemblance to Salazar Slytherin,
the founder of their house.
Ja, sie
werden sollen meine… Yes, you will be
mine… Angelina couldn't shake the
feeling that her destiny was inextricably entwined with Tom Riddle. Mein genädiger Herr… my lord…
He sat back
in his chair beside her and smiled, but it did not reach the cool emerald
jewels of his eyes.
No, there
was no amusement in his smile. It was
simply the smile of a man who was in control.
Angelina
narrowed her eyes and took in the countenances of her housemates. There was a boy with silver blond hair; he
looked to be about thirteen… Beside him
was a boy with greasy black hair and black eyes, along with a hooked nose… Possibly fifteen…
Tom noticed
her careful perusal of their housemates.
"The blond… That's Septimius
Malfoy… He's a third year student. The ugly little bugger is Lazarus
Snape… Fifth year. The trampy little thing licking her lips at
me is Melody Parkinson… another fifth year."
Riddle nodded his head towards the end of the table where all the first
years were sitting in a huddle. "Those
down there are in your year."
"Do you
think that my name will work against me here?" she asked.
The boy
gave her a wolfish smile. "Oh, no… Not in this house. You'll find some familiar names here… Your father's followers, no doubt, although most of them probably
went to Durmstrang."
She sneered.
"Durmstrang!" the witch spat.
"Mein vater felt that Durmstrang was a school for die
verzagt!"
Tom arched
one black eyebrow at her, and awaited clarification.
"Die
verzagt. The weak in spirit. They cannot learn the arts on their own,
without fear, so they must learn it in a pack, where all students have the same
thoughts. Mein vater preferred
Hogwarts so that I would learn to think for myself, even among the weak muggle
lovers. This is where he believed the
next Dark Lord will receive his education."
"You, Fraulein,
are pure Slytherin," Tom complimented, a pleased smile on his face. "The Great Salazar Slytherin himself would
have gone mad over you."
* *
*
Angelina and
the rest of the Slytherins went down to the dungeons to their dorms, which were
hidden away behind a black armored knight.
"The password," Thanatos announced imperiously, "is 'bandersnatch'."
The knight
stepped aside, revealing a small hole in the wall. Angelina smiled when she felt Tom Riddle's hands on her,
assisting her through the space. She
found herself in another world…
There was a
roaring fire in the hearth, casting a deceptively cheery glow about the
room. The carpet was blood red; the furniture
was leather. She could just make out
the look of a… serpent, perhaps… on the wall in a mosaic.
"Behold,"
Tom whispered in her ear, sweeping his hand across the great room before them,
"the Slytherin Commons Room. This is
where you will be able to hold court, once they recognize you for the queen
that you are."
Angelina
smiled. "I don't need their
recognition. The only recognition that
is important is the recognition of the one who will rule along side me. I need to be a queen in his eyes, and
nothing more."
"And the
others?" he asked.
"They will
know it when it happens. Until then,
they will be blind."
Riddle
smiled. "They have eyes, Angelina."
He was
teasing her… She laughed. "Just because one has eyes doesn't mean that
one can see, you know. When my prince
is ready, they will open their eyes, and then they will see." When you are ready, they will see,
she thought.
"And what
makes you so sure of this?" Tom pressed.
She looked
at him blankly. "That is welche die
Götter benötigen… What
the Gods want. Who are we to question
them?"
