A cold hand turned the brass doorknob, clouding the tarnished metal. The heavy door was pushed into the house. A gloomy entry hall was revealed. Yellow wallpaper was peeling off the grimy walls. As she stepped into the house, the floorboards groaned and coughed up dust.
Shaara looked around, studying the ancient walls. She had walked into this house many times, yet it never ceased to fascinate her. She knew every moan from the floor, every crack in the walls, and every step that creaked when you put weight on it. The high ceilings of the foyer echoed the steps she took into the house. This was her escape. Shaara relished the time she spent here with her father.
Walking through the small room, she strode into the living room. She sighed, taking in the beloved setting. Shaara sauntered slowly over to the west wall of the den and gazed at the pictures hanging there. A toddler Tom Riddle waved at her while smiling in the arms of his parents. In the background, a calm ocean reflected the beautiful azure sky. She grinned back and continued to study the pictures. Shaara looked at these whenever she had a chance, looking upon the young face of her father. There was a large picture of him hanging in the center of the wall of pictures. The inscription on the frame read: Tom Riddle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Seventh Year. Hard brown eyes gazed seriously at Shaara. Dark brown hair was swept sideways across the small forehead. She smiled at the photograph, but continued walking when it didn't smile back. Most of the scenes depicted were identical to the previous one set at the sea. Shaara gazed at the happy faces of her grandparents and sighed sadly. She loved studying the faces carefully. She would sometimes imagine what they would be like if they were still alive.
"Such old pictures, daughter. How young I was. Until Hogwarts, I was so foolish, so malleable."
The voice of her father snapped Shaara out of her reverie. She slowly turned around to face him. He had shed his outer cloak and was dressed in a simple black robe. The red eyes, so much like hers, shone at Shaara with a type of love in them. She loved away, not wanting to hold his haunting gaze.
She shrugged out her heavy wool coat and laid it on the back of a tattered olive green sofa.
"So, Father, what is it? I was quite surprised to get an owl from you," Shaara inquired as she settled herself on the couch.
"I have come up with another plan."
"Another? Tell me, Father, that it is not as absurd as the last one was," she stated with an exasperated sigh.
"No, my dear. This one is better. Much better."
"And it is about...?"
"Patience, my dear. You must learn to control that temper."
"Father," Shaara interrupted, "please skip the speech on my character."
"Whatever you ask, my dear. Now, you have surely heard of the Sectors?"
"I have heard of them, though I know very little about them. The Four Founders carved them from stone. They are extremely old because they were shaped when Hogwarts first opened," Shaara stated as a page from one of her textbooks floated through her mind.
"Is that all you know? Surely you have been taught better than that," Voldemort said, a frown lowering the corners of his thin lips.
"That's all I know. There wasn't much mentioned of them at Durmstrang," she replied with a dismissive shrug.
"Well. They were all destroyed, supposedly. The Founders were supposed to destroy them after they realized how dangerous they were. You see, each of the Founders poured each of their own characteristics and powers into their own sector. When all the sectors are united and the proper spells are cast, the caster receives all the powers of the Founders."
Shaara's mouth dropped upon hearing those words. Her eyes flashed as she thought about the power. However, this power would most certainly go to her father. Unless, there was some way...
"What do you think, my girl," Voldemort questioned as the corners of his lips turned up.
Shaara found it very strange how her father expressed his emotions. She had never seen him fully smile or frown. He had never showed Shaara love.
Yet Shaara wasn't sure she loved him. She was thankful he gave her life. The life he gave her was a concealed one. She never had a home when she was growing up. Voldemort simply handed her off at his servants' houses when he wasn't there. She brilliantly remembered the night of his downfall when she was five.
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"Goodbye, my daughter. I shouldn't be long." Voldemort looked much healthier. His cheeks were a bit fuller, and he wasn't quite as gaunt. He pulled the heavy wooden door closed as he disappeared into the dark night.
Shaara, a fiery five year old with the same flashing eyes as her father but with thick, long hair, turned around to face Mrs. Nell. She was the wife of a Mr. Bill Nell, a Death Eater who was very close to Voldemort.
"A-a-are you hungry," Mrs. Nell asked, fiddling with the hem of her dress. She didn't look pleased or excited, as she was left with the task of looking after Lord Voldemort's daughter.
"No. You look like I'm going to hex you. Are you afraid of me," Shaara asked, giggling.
At the word "hex", Mrs. Nell whimpered slightly.
"No need to be afraid. I can't do any proper magic yet. Daddy forbids it until I go to school," Shaara stated, rolling her eyes.
A small amount of tension left Mrs. Nell's face. She smiled slightly at the brashness of the little girl standing before her.
"Would you like to play with some dolls?"
"No. Do you have any action figures? Those are my favorite," Shaara replied as she bounced up and down on her toes.
"Uhhh...I think Bill has some. Let me check," Mrs. Nell said as she walked down the hall.
For five hours, Shaara played quietly on the floor. At 3 a.m., her eyelids drooping, Shaara climbed on the couch and promptly fell asleep.
She awoke to the pop of someone Apparating. It was Bill, ashen-faced and trembling. Mrs. Nell, who had been napping in the chair near Shaara, startled awake and jumped to her feet.
"What's the matter, dear," she asked, rubbing her eyes and walking towards her husband.
"Quick. We must leave. Gather only a few things. Move!"
"What's wrong, Bill? Did something happen," Mrs. Nell inquired, slightly taken aback.
"Yes. H-h-he is..." Shaara was fully awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Something went wrong, terribly wrong," Mr. Nell explained. "He killed the parents easily. The lady put up quite a fight though. As we went to kill the boy, something happened. He cast the cures, but it just bounced of the baby. It hit Him. He's gone, just disappeared. However, the Ministry knew this was coming. Since He's gone, they've started arresting his most loyal supporters. We must go. Now."
Mrs. Nell's eyes widened with the news. When her husband had finished, she looked blankly at Shaara.
"What about her?"
Mr. Nell, who had been bustling around grabbing things, paused.
"Hmm. Before we left, he said something to us. 'If I don't return, take my daughter to the Leaky Cauldron. If something happens, I have a friend there who will take care of her.' I guess we shall do that. After that, we'll fly to Greece. There are some cousins of mine there."
The Nells were packed and ready to go in less than 5 minutes. Shaara was fully alert u then. She had digested all the information Bill had spilled. He was gone, at least for now. She knew he would come back. The child fleetingly thought about what was in her immediate future.
Mr. Nell picked her up, hoisting her into his arms as they fled out the door. The heavy wood thudded against the frame of the door. Shaara looked up into the night with stars studded across the dark velvet. The spirited little child was alone now. The darkness enveloped her as they headed off.
--------------------------------------------------
"Shaara? I asked what you thought about the Sectors," the displeased voice slicing through her thoughts.
"I never knew such things existed. The power must be immense..." her voice trailed off as her eyes unfocused.
Voldemort's eyes flashed. 'That look,' he thought to himself. 'I've seen that look before. Where?'
--------------------------------------------------
Shaara looked around, studying the ancient walls. She had walked into this house many times, yet it never ceased to fascinate her. She knew every moan from the floor, every crack in the walls, and every step that creaked when you put weight on it. The high ceilings of the foyer echoed the steps she took into the house. This was her escape. Shaara relished the time she spent here with her father.
Walking through the small room, she strode into the living room. She sighed, taking in the beloved setting. Shaara sauntered slowly over to the west wall of the den and gazed at the pictures hanging there. A toddler Tom Riddle waved at her while smiling in the arms of his parents. In the background, a calm ocean reflected the beautiful azure sky. She grinned back and continued to study the pictures. Shaara looked at these whenever she had a chance, looking upon the young face of her father. There was a large picture of him hanging in the center of the wall of pictures. The inscription on the frame read: Tom Riddle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Seventh Year. Hard brown eyes gazed seriously at Shaara. Dark brown hair was swept sideways across the small forehead. She smiled at the photograph, but continued walking when it didn't smile back. Most of the scenes depicted were identical to the previous one set at the sea. Shaara gazed at the happy faces of her grandparents and sighed sadly. She loved studying the faces carefully. She would sometimes imagine what they would be like if they were still alive.
"Such old pictures, daughter. How young I was. Until Hogwarts, I was so foolish, so malleable."
The voice of her father snapped Shaara out of her reverie. She slowly turned around to face him. He had shed his outer cloak and was dressed in a simple black robe. The red eyes, so much like hers, shone at Shaara with a type of love in them. She loved away, not wanting to hold his haunting gaze.
She shrugged out her heavy wool coat and laid it on the back of a tattered olive green sofa.
"So, Father, what is it? I was quite surprised to get an owl from you," Shaara inquired as she settled herself on the couch.
"I have come up with another plan."
"Another? Tell me, Father, that it is not as absurd as the last one was," she stated with an exasperated sigh.
"No, my dear. This one is better. Much better."
"And it is about...?"
"Patience, my dear. You must learn to control that temper."
"Father," Shaara interrupted, "please skip the speech on my character."
"Whatever you ask, my dear. Now, you have surely heard of the Sectors?"
"I have heard of them, though I know very little about them. The Four Founders carved them from stone. They are extremely old because they were shaped when Hogwarts first opened," Shaara stated as a page from one of her textbooks floated through her mind.
"Is that all you know? Surely you have been taught better than that," Voldemort said, a frown lowering the corners of his thin lips.
"That's all I know. There wasn't much mentioned of them at Durmstrang," she replied with a dismissive shrug.
"Well. They were all destroyed, supposedly. The Founders were supposed to destroy them after they realized how dangerous they were. You see, each of the Founders poured each of their own characteristics and powers into their own sector. When all the sectors are united and the proper spells are cast, the caster receives all the powers of the Founders."
Shaara's mouth dropped upon hearing those words. Her eyes flashed as she thought about the power. However, this power would most certainly go to her father. Unless, there was some way...
"What do you think, my girl," Voldemort questioned as the corners of his lips turned up.
Shaara found it very strange how her father expressed his emotions. She had never seen him fully smile or frown. He had never showed Shaara love.
Yet Shaara wasn't sure she loved him. She was thankful he gave her life. The life he gave her was a concealed one. She never had a home when she was growing up. Voldemort simply handed her off at his servants' houses when he wasn't there. She brilliantly remembered the night of his downfall when she was five.
--------------------------------------------------
"Goodbye, my daughter. I shouldn't be long." Voldemort looked much healthier. His cheeks were a bit fuller, and he wasn't quite as gaunt. He pulled the heavy wooden door closed as he disappeared into the dark night.
Shaara, a fiery five year old with the same flashing eyes as her father but with thick, long hair, turned around to face Mrs. Nell. She was the wife of a Mr. Bill Nell, a Death Eater who was very close to Voldemort.
"A-a-are you hungry," Mrs. Nell asked, fiddling with the hem of her dress. She didn't look pleased or excited, as she was left with the task of looking after Lord Voldemort's daughter.
"No. You look like I'm going to hex you. Are you afraid of me," Shaara asked, giggling.
At the word "hex", Mrs. Nell whimpered slightly.
"No need to be afraid. I can't do any proper magic yet. Daddy forbids it until I go to school," Shaara stated, rolling her eyes.
A small amount of tension left Mrs. Nell's face. She smiled slightly at the brashness of the little girl standing before her.
"Would you like to play with some dolls?"
"No. Do you have any action figures? Those are my favorite," Shaara replied as she bounced up and down on her toes.
"Uhhh...I think Bill has some. Let me check," Mrs. Nell said as she walked down the hall.
For five hours, Shaara played quietly on the floor. At 3 a.m., her eyelids drooping, Shaara climbed on the couch and promptly fell asleep.
She awoke to the pop of someone Apparating. It was Bill, ashen-faced and trembling. Mrs. Nell, who had been napping in the chair near Shaara, startled awake and jumped to her feet.
"What's the matter, dear," she asked, rubbing her eyes and walking towards her husband.
"Quick. We must leave. Gather only a few things. Move!"
"What's wrong, Bill? Did something happen," Mrs. Nell inquired, slightly taken aback.
"Yes. H-h-he is..." Shaara was fully awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Something went wrong, terribly wrong," Mr. Nell explained. "He killed the parents easily. The lady put up quite a fight though. As we went to kill the boy, something happened. He cast the cures, but it just bounced of the baby. It hit Him. He's gone, just disappeared. However, the Ministry knew this was coming. Since He's gone, they've started arresting his most loyal supporters. We must go. Now."
Mrs. Nell's eyes widened with the news. When her husband had finished, she looked blankly at Shaara.
"What about her?"
Mr. Nell, who had been bustling around grabbing things, paused.
"Hmm. Before we left, he said something to us. 'If I don't return, take my daughter to the Leaky Cauldron. If something happens, I have a friend there who will take care of her.' I guess we shall do that. After that, we'll fly to Greece. There are some cousins of mine there."
The Nells were packed and ready to go in less than 5 minutes. Shaara was fully alert u then. She had digested all the information Bill had spilled. He was gone, at least for now. She knew he would come back. The child fleetingly thought about what was in her immediate future.
Mr. Nell picked her up, hoisting her into his arms as they fled out the door. The heavy wood thudded against the frame of the door. Shaara looked up into the night with stars studded across the dark velvet. The spirited little child was alone now. The darkness enveloped her as they headed off.
--------------------------------------------------
"Shaara? I asked what you thought about the Sectors," the displeased voice slicing through her thoughts.
"I never knew such things existed. The power must be immense..." her voice trailed off as her eyes unfocused.
Voldemort's eyes flashed. 'That look,' he thought to himself. 'I've seen that look before. Where?'
--------------------------------------------------