AR/DM: Even though no one's reviewed my story, I'm still confident that I will get reviews some time soon. Well, plz read and review. Thnx ya'll.
* * * * *
There were three things that puzzled me most about Alice.
1) She seemed to care more about what I did than about Harry. It seemed that, in the two years before when we had been best friends, I had always been in Harry's shadow. But Alice seemed less interested that Harry was the youngest seeker in a hundred years, and seemed to care more that I could beat everyone I played in wizard chess.
2) She never seemed to stay with a group of friends for more than two weeks. At first, she hung out with Harry, Hermione, and me. Then she moved on to Parvati and Lavender. Then to Fred and George. A difference in years didn't stop her (obviously), but, surprisingly, neither did house rivalries. After Fred and George, Harry and I saw her standing in the hallway laughing with Desamay Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson! But then, two weeks later, she was back with us. We asked her what the three of them had been talking about, but she just winked at us and told us to use our imagination.
3) She was always writing in her blessed diary. After homework, in between classes, whenever she had a free second, she was writing down what she had just done. Hermione said she would stop sometimes, stare intently at her book, and then start writing again. She would even sometimes laugh or get angry.
But, other than that, Alice seemed perfectly normal. She didn't have an accent, even though she had lived in Romania most of her life. She wasn't particularly smart or funny, even though she, like Hermione, took notes in Professor Binn's class. And she didn't seem to have a problem with anyone; not even Malfoy.
"Alice, why are you so nice to him?" Harry asked her one day after she had said hello to him between classes.
"Why should I not be?" she retorted.
"Alice!" I practically yelled, "He's a Malfoy and a Slytherin. Of course you're not supposed to be nice to him."
Alice smiled at me, "Look. Ron, Harry, Draco hasn't done anything to me. I have no reason to hate him, unlike you."
"He's a slimy git, why shouldn't you hate him!" I yelled.
"He's a slimy git to you Ron, not to me," she responded, "And besides, he's in the same house my father was in."
She turned around and headed to lunch.
Both Harry and I looked at Hermione.
"What?" she demanded.
"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin," said Harry (AN: hey, would Harry say You-Know-Who? My friends and I disagree on this)
"Your point?"
"Hermione," I said in exasperation, "It's looking more and more likely that she's his daughter."
"I still say that's impossible," Hermione sniffed. Then she too marched off.
* * * * *
[Father, I'm terribly sorry I couldn't write earlier. Sirius Black attacked the portrait of the Fat Lady, the guard to Gryffindor Tower, and we couldn't get in.]
[That's all right, Alice. I understand. I didn't expect you to write on Halloween anyway.]
[Of course.]
[Have you finished the book I told you to read?]
[Yes. It was quite interesting. I enjoyed learning about Voldemort. It's and odd coincidence Voldemort had the same last name as me.]
[Yes, odd...but maybe not so much a coincidence.]
I gave the book and odd look, [What do you mean?]
[Clearly you didn't get what I wanted you to get out of reading 20th Century Dark Wizards and their History.]
[Father?] I could tell he was disappointed, and maybe even a little angry.
[You mean after all these years and even after reading that book, you still didn't figure out the secret of your name?]
Now was really puzzled and slightly apprehensive, [What's my name's "secret"?]
[Alice Noal Thommsid Riddle.]
[Yes?] Sometimes Father would call me by my full name if he was really upset with me.
But he ignored me. Instead, the letters of my names rearranged themselves to form the words, [I alone am Tom Riddle's child.]
I gasped. Then I wrote furiously, [But...surely there must be some coincidence.]
[There's no coincidence, Alice. You are Lord Voldemort's only daughter.]
"No," I whispered, "I can't be"
"Something wrong?" Hermione asked behind me.
I slammed my book shut and whirled around.
Hermione was standing just inside the doorway to our dormitory. But from her voice I would have sworn she was right behind me.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione," I laughed, "Don't DO that."
"Sorry," she smiled. Then she looked at me in concern,
"Are you alright? You look pale."
"Oh, no. I'm fine. I'm just worried about Sirius Black, that's all."
"Why are you worried about him?"
I shrugged, "I'm just scared, I guess. Scared that he might come and attack Harry. Or maybe even Ron, you, or me."
Hermione laughed, "Don't be silly, Alice. Dumbledore's put more security around. I don't think he'll be able to get in again."
"I don't know, Hermione. Black was able to get out of Azkaban. He should definitely be able to get back to Hogwarts."
* * * * *
* * * * *
There were three things that puzzled me most about Alice.
1) She seemed to care more about what I did than about Harry. It seemed that, in the two years before when we had been best friends, I had always been in Harry's shadow. But Alice seemed less interested that Harry was the youngest seeker in a hundred years, and seemed to care more that I could beat everyone I played in wizard chess.
2) She never seemed to stay with a group of friends for more than two weeks. At first, she hung out with Harry, Hermione, and me. Then she moved on to Parvati and Lavender. Then to Fred and George. A difference in years didn't stop her (obviously), but, surprisingly, neither did house rivalries. After Fred and George, Harry and I saw her standing in the hallway laughing with Desamay Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson! But then, two weeks later, she was back with us. We asked her what the three of them had been talking about, but she just winked at us and told us to use our imagination.
3) She was always writing in her blessed diary. After homework, in between classes, whenever she had a free second, she was writing down what she had just done. Hermione said she would stop sometimes, stare intently at her book, and then start writing again. She would even sometimes laugh or get angry.
But, other than that, Alice seemed perfectly normal. She didn't have an accent, even though she had lived in Romania most of her life. She wasn't particularly smart or funny, even though she, like Hermione, took notes in Professor Binn's class. And she didn't seem to have a problem with anyone; not even Malfoy.
"Alice, why are you so nice to him?" Harry asked her one day after she had said hello to him between classes.
"Why should I not be?" she retorted.
"Alice!" I practically yelled, "He's a Malfoy and a Slytherin. Of course you're not supposed to be nice to him."
Alice smiled at me, "Look. Ron, Harry, Draco hasn't done anything to me. I have no reason to hate him, unlike you."
"He's a slimy git, why shouldn't you hate him!" I yelled.
"He's a slimy git to you Ron, not to me," she responded, "And besides, he's in the same house my father was in."
She turned around and headed to lunch.
Both Harry and I looked at Hermione.
"What?" she demanded.
"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin," said Harry (AN: hey, would Harry say You-Know-Who? My friends and I disagree on this)
"Your point?"
"Hermione," I said in exasperation, "It's looking more and more likely that she's his daughter."
"I still say that's impossible," Hermione sniffed. Then she too marched off.
* * * * *
[Father, I'm terribly sorry I couldn't write earlier. Sirius Black attacked the portrait of the Fat Lady, the guard to Gryffindor Tower, and we couldn't get in.]
[That's all right, Alice. I understand. I didn't expect you to write on Halloween anyway.]
[Of course.]
[Have you finished the book I told you to read?]
[Yes. It was quite interesting. I enjoyed learning about Voldemort. It's and odd coincidence Voldemort had the same last name as me.]
[Yes, odd...but maybe not so much a coincidence.]
I gave the book and odd look, [What do you mean?]
[Clearly you didn't get what I wanted you to get out of reading 20th Century Dark Wizards and their History.]
[Father?] I could tell he was disappointed, and maybe even a little angry.
[You mean after all these years and even after reading that book, you still didn't figure out the secret of your name?]
Now was really puzzled and slightly apprehensive, [What's my name's "secret"?]
[Alice Noal Thommsid Riddle.]
[Yes?] Sometimes Father would call me by my full name if he was really upset with me.
But he ignored me. Instead, the letters of my names rearranged themselves to form the words, [I alone am Tom Riddle's child.]
I gasped. Then I wrote furiously, [But...surely there must be some coincidence.]
[There's no coincidence, Alice. You are Lord Voldemort's only daughter.]
"No," I whispered, "I can't be"
"Something wrong?" Hermione asked behind me.
I slammed my book shut and whirled around.
Hermione was standing just inside the doorway to our dormitory. But from her voice I would have sworn she was right behind me.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione," I laughed, "Don't DO that."
"Sorry," she smiled. Then she looked at me in concern,
"Are you alright? You look pale."
"Oh, no. I'm fine. I'm just worried about Sirius Black, that's all."
"Why are you worried about him?"
I shrugged, "I'm just scared, I guess. Scared that he might come and attack Harry. Or maybe even Ron, you, or me."
Hermione laughed, "Don't be silly, Alice. Dumbledore's put more security around. I don't think he'll be able to get in again."
"I don't know, Hermione. Black was able to get out of Azkaban. He should definitely be able to get back to Hogwarts."
* * * * *