Lily tapped her quill nervously on the desk, biting her fingernails. There
was a mirror at the back of the classroom and Lily kept looking at her
reflection, her dark red hair that was a trait of her mother, and those
eyes. Her eyes, Voldemort's eyes. She closed them tightly and looked away
from the mirror slightly begging them to have changed. When she opened
them and looked back at herself in the mirror, they were still the same.
'How can this be?' she thought as she traced her eyes with her index finger.
"Yes, this is who you are. Except it. Become it. Embrace it. Feel it, the power in you."
That nagging feeling was getting stronger. She, god forbid, felt complete all of a sudden. Like she knew who she was more. It was if a jigsaw piece had filled a hole in her heart, but it was filled with darkness. "A child methinks,"
She dropped her quill, lent back and put her hands round her waist, running more of Voldemort's words in her mind. "Yes Lily, my dearest Lily, my beautiful daughter. This is how you were created."
Lily tried to refrain tears; she was not going to cry over it, well not now, in Transfiguration. Tightly she closed her eyes again; "I'll make you see."
Another feeling was threatening to engulf Lily, abandonment. This Voldemort had fathered her on purpose and he had abandoned her. Hatred Lily had never known before was flowing through her. Also why had her mother never told her? Any body? She was raped for god sakes and she was keeping her fucking mouth shut. Oh God, did her father know? The father who had raised her as his own did he know that Lily was not his but the evidence of a cruel and heartless rape?
Finally a sound that Lily took as if it were a choir of Gods angels sounded. The lunch bell, as quickly as she could she went out the classroom. James followed her out. "Lil' are you alright, you seem a little out of it, your all hot and bothered. Why don't you go to Madam Pomfrey?"
Lily shook her head and stopped James from holding her, "James," she said. "Do you know Voldemort's real name?" James looked at her as if she had said that chicken's really have two heads.
"Voldemort?" he repeated slowly and carefully, pronouncing every syllable. "You mean that insane bastard, who reckons he rules the world? The guy who's killing loads of people?" Lily nodded. Her eyes were burning up.
James looked very hardened all of a sudden. The his voice full of bitterness; "Yes I know, he was head-boy here around twenty-five years ago. Tom Riddle his name was. In Slytherin. Little outcast he was too."
Lily didn't wonder why James knew his name until she got to the library. Being here brought back lots of memories of her dream. How it took place in the stacks. She drew in a deep breath and walked forward. At the back of the library there was a collection of yearbooks, and each would have a photo of every pupil who graduated that year. She walked along past all the books, James had said that Tom Riddle, or Voldemort, had been here around twenty-five years ago. So that would mean… She closed her eyes, as though trying to meditate. "1953" a voice sounded in her head "1953" being a girl who trusted her female intuition she pulled down the large leather bound book that had the date "1953" proclaimed on it's spine in gold lettering.
With an almighty heave she placed the book on a nearby table, blew the dust off of it and began to flick through the pages. When she found photographs of the students, she carefully looked at each page in search of 'R'
"Randell…Rennie…Riddle Tom M."
It was a very clear photo in colour; wizards had obviously sussed it out before muggles had. He had jet-black hair, which fell down slightly but not covering entirely his bright emerald green eyes. It was the man from her dream just younger.
Lily grasped her chest, gasping for breath, she looked down at the photo, and there he was smiling up at Lily, his daughter. She couldn't stand it any more. Slamming the book shut, and putting it back on the self, she ran out of the library and back the girls bathroom and where for the second time that morning was violently sick.
'How can this be?' she thought as she traced her eyes with her index finger.
"Yes, this is who you are. Except it. Become it. Embrace it. Feel it, the power in you."
That nagging feeling was getting stronger. She, god forbid, felt complete all of a sudden. Like she knew who she was more. It was if a jigsaw piece had filled a hole in her heart, but it was filled with darkness. "A child methinks,"
She dropped her quill, lent back and put her hands round her waist, running more of Voldemort's words in her mind. "Yes Lily, my dearest Lily, my beautiful daughter. This is how you were created."
Lily tried to refrain tears; she was not going to cry over it, well not now, in Transfiguration. Tightly she closed her eyes again; "I'll make you see."
Another feeling was threatening to engulf Lily, abandonment. This Voldemort had fathered her on purpose and he had abandoned her. Hatred Lily had never known before was flowing through her. Also why had her mother never told her? Any body? She was raped for god sakes and she was keeping her fucking mouth shut. Oh God, did her father know? The father who had raised her as his own did he know that Lily was not his but the evidence of a cruel and heartless rape?
Finally a sound that Lily took as if it were a choir of Gods angels sounded. The lunch bell, as quickly as she could she went out the classroom. James followed her out. "Lil' are you alright, you seem a little out of it, your all hot and bothered. Why don't you go to Madam Pomfrey?"
Lily shook her head and stopped James from holding her, "James," she said. "Do you know Voldemort's real name?" James looked at her as if she had said that chicken's really have two heads.
"Voldemort?" he repeated slowly and carefully, pronouncing every syllable. "You mean that insane bastard, who reckons he rules the world? The guy who's killing loads of people?" Lily nodded. Her eyes were burning up.
James looked very hardened all of a sudden. The his voice full of bitterness; "Yes I know, he was head-boy here around twenty-five years ago. Tom Riddle his name was. In Slytherin. Little outcast he was too."
Lily didn't wonder why James knew his name until she got to the library. Being here brought back lots of memories of her dream. How it took place in the stacks. She drew in a deep breath and walked forward. At the back of the library there was a collection of yearbooks, and each would have a photo of every pupil who graduated that year. She walked along past all the books, James had said that Tom Riddle, or Voldemort, had been here around twenty-five years ago. So that would mean… She closed her eyes, as though trying to meditate. "1953" a voice sounded in her head "1953" being a girl who trusted her female intuition she pulled down the large leather bound book that had the date "1953" proclaimed on it's spine in gold lettering.
With an almighty heave she placed the book on a nearby table, blew the dust off of it and began to flick through the pages. When she found photographs of the students, she carefully looked at each page in search of 'R'
"Randell…Rennie…Riddle Tom M."
It was a very clear photo in colour; wizards had obviously sussed it out before muggles had. He had jet-black hair, which fell down slightly but not covering entirely his bright emerald green eyes. It was the man from her dream just younger.
Lily grasped her chest, gasping for breath, she looked down at the photo, and there he was smiling up at Lily, his daughter. She couldn't stand it any more. Slamming the book shut, and putting it back on the self, she ran out of the library and back the girls bathroom and where for the second time that morning was violently sick.