Voldemort's Daughter
First story ever- cross your fingers everyone. And don't throw tomatoes at the screen- my sister did it while she was proofreading this and my Dad had a hissy-fit. (But it was worth the money to fix the monitor just to see that.) Throw lettuce or bananas- cleanups a cinch.
For your information Ron, Harry, Hermione and the gang are in the beginning of their sixth year at Hogwarts. The war with Voldemort is about to begin and Harry Potter is at the center of it all. Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore is having a tremendously hard time finding a suitable Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher and refuses to even consider the nutterbrain Minister Fudge wants him to employ.
Nothing in this story is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling except for July- whom I made up, and the excerpt from "Fat Bottomed Girls" which belongs to Freddy Mercury or Queen or some record exec.
Everyone (The two of you reading this) DO NOT FORGET TO CROSS YOUR FINGERS.
Harry's alarm clock rung promptly at 6:30 am on Friday August 13. He didn't know why it had rung- he certainly would never have set an alarm clock to go off at 6:30 on a Friday during summer vacation unless… "Oh damn" he thought as he quickly sprang from his bed and began to hurriedly get dressed. Harry was so tired he forgot that he was straight and dressed like an actual human being instead of an average 16 year old boy.
Once dressed he sprinted down the stairs at top speed only to find the whole family sitting in the kitchen already dressed up all prim and proper waiting for him. They seemed to have forgotten that the eight hour car ride was going to wreak havoc on their fancy suits Harry could have sworn he'd seen on "The Old Timers' Oscar's Worst Outfits." Harry was pretty sure it had been hosted by John Rivers- even though her own outfit had been number 3 on the list. Aunt Petunia was fixing Dudley's orange bowtie while Uncle Vernon was frantically flipping through a stack of papers on his desk.
"Where the hell could it have gone," he was muttering to himself. And then upon noticing Harry's belated entrance Uncle Vernon forgot he was doing and turned towards the late boy with an expression of pure hate written upon his face. Harry did not fail to notice that Uncle Vernon looked at Dudley's sweaty socks with more love than he showed Harry. "Where have you been?" he asked.
Harry found the question rather amusing after all where could he have been, and was about to reply with a smart-alecky remark along the lines of, "I was off on a nice early morning stroll- to walk off the hangover I have from last nights huge wizards bash. I got positively drunk off all the spells I uttered last night- especially the one where I set a curse upon the family that will cause you all to (drum roll please) smile, because really Aunt Petunia, you should watch out for frown lines," when he thought better of it. He instead replied with a bland, "I suppose I must have overslept."
Aunt Petunia sniffed in a way that Harry knew she thought was delicately and turned her nose up at Harry as if he were a particularly nasty piece of the dinner she had cooked the night before (imagine a cross between Haggis, Blood Budding, Boiled Sheep's Head, and the leftover Beet casserole your mother made).
"Well, never mind. We must hurry if we hope to make it to the hotel in time." Uncle Vernon had a "very important meeting" with some buyers from some random foreign country where everyone had weird accents (probably South Carolina). For some odd reason they had decided to hold the meeting at an obscure hotel in Glasgow and insisted that everyone bring their families to stay the weekend.
It had originally been decided that Harry was to stay with the elderly Ms. Figg next door but plans had abruptly been changed when the Dursleys discovered that Ms. Figg was a witch herself. (The Durseleys could not care less weather she was a squib or not- a witch was a witch!) So now the Dursleys were forced to bring Harry to the hotel in Glasgow, but they made sure he was well aware of the rules of conduct. The list was so long Harry at first feared it would not be able to fit in his suitcase even if he did only pack one change of knickers. Some of the rules were more obvious- "Do not under any circumstances fly your broom through the hotel," while others made Harry wonder how on earth the Dursleys could pretend they had no sense of humour- "You may not clog the toilets of the hotel with bewitched bath towels." Surprisingly enough this was number 3- right after "Do not kill Dudley" and right before "Do not kill Uncle Vernon." Harry briefly wondered if Uncle Vernon was aware of where Aunt Petunia's priorities lay.
As if on cue Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Harry proceeded to walk outside and stand around the car waiting for Uncle Vernon to hurry his fat arse outside and open the doors. He took his sweet time locking the door behind him despite Dudley's incessant whining at him to hurry up.
Just as they were about to get in Mr. Brashares from across the street walked by. He lifted up his hand as if about to wave at them, but upon spotting Harry, quickly put his hand down again and practically ran away from the Dursley's driveway. Harry almost laughed to think about how crazy one would have to be to believe Uncle Vernon's nutty story about him being enrolled at St. Brutus's School for Incurably Criminal Boys.
Uncle Vernon had wisely decided to pack the car the night before to prevent a mix up on this most important morning. Harry used the term "wisely" very loosely when it came to his Uncle because he still remembered the time that Uncle Vernon had slipped sweets and candies to Dudley even when his school nurse had decreed that Dudley was way overweight and the school proprietor had notified them that there were no uniforms in Dudley's size. Uncle Vernon still referred to Dudley's girth as a manly paunch. Yes- a manly paunch- and the Titanic sustained "some water damage."
The eight hour ride to the hotel was quite uneventful and Harry began to feel jealous of all the poor little children who were lucky enough to have to listen to their parents sing out of date rock songs at the top of their lungs during long car trips. As if lost in a dream Harry began to sing, "OOOOOOOHHHHHH, you gonna take me home tonight. OOOOOOHHHHHHH, down beside that red fire light. OOOOOOHHHHHH, you gonna let it all hang out. Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round." For a while there Harry was sure Dudley was on the verge of joining in, but was quickly stalled with a chilling glance from his mother, so instead he decided that punching Harry in the arm would be just as much fun.
"What are you so pissy about? You've got an arse bony enough to break one of Hagrid's biscuits on. Probably just jealous that you don't make the rockin' world go round." Harry muttered under his breath while rubbing his arm.
Dudley was very pleased to announce that he was going to count trees to pass the time. Neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon commented on this unusual method, but Harry had the sneaking suspicion that they were both incredibly pleased to learn that Dudley could count at all. Dudley never got higher than seven because every time a cluster of trees would appear he would lose count, throw a miniature fit and be forced to start all over. Harry heard Aunt Petunia whisper to Uncle Vernon that he should slow down the car to help Dudley out. Harry felt the car slow down another ten kilometers an hour and sighed. Only six hours left.
During the car ride Harry attempted to sort out his thoughts about what had occurred during the catastrophe at the Ministry of Magic. He smiled when he thought about Draco's reaction when he had heard that his father was locked up in Azkaban. He attempted to keep the picture in his mind before thoughts of Sirius intruded, but to no avail. Over and over in his mind Harry replayed the moment that Sirius had fallen behind the curtain. He analyzed every nano-second of the time before hand in an attempt to find what he could have done to prevent his death.
Unbidden a voice in Harry's head said, "Do not dwell in the past, but live in the future." Harry looked around frantically trying to figure out where the voice could have come from and finally remembered that it was something Dumbledore had told him after Cedric's death. (A/N- do not remember if he actually said this.)
Harry decided it would be a wise decision to follow this advice and began to rescour Daily Prophet papers in his head and picked apart the parts that interested him. "Mystery Muggle Deaths Haunt Weatherby," "Veronica Nairy Connected to Voldemort," and "Attempted Break In at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Although the break in had been unsuccessful it was this last article that worried Harry the most. He had partly been counting on Voldemort's fear of Dumbledore to keep him safe for the next two years. And now he finds out that Voldemort is trying to get into Hogwarts! It definitely disturbed Harry greatly.
Harry had also received vast amounts of mail from both Ron and Hermione and this summer they had been allowed to discuss issues prominent among the wizarding society. Especially useful were Mr. and Mrs. Weasly's letters stating the opinion and beliefs of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had wished that they had been able to send them some of their plans but he knew that they couldn't because of the insecurity of mail these days.
With all of these thoughts rushing around in his head Harry felt himself becoming slightly groggy, but didn't want to sleep just yet- he knew he'd have plenty of time for that locked up in the hotel room. He forced his eyes open and decided to join Dudley in his time killing exercise.
By the time they had reached the hotel Dudley had reached 24 (Harry had reached 1,259 when he had finally given up) and Harry was ready to kill him because midway through the ride Dudley had decided it would be helpful to count out loud. Four hours of "1..2,3…..4,5,6….6…oh damnit- I have to start over," had taken their toll on Harry's sanity. He noticed that even Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked a little peaked too.
Now that they had arrived at the hotel Harry knew that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be going nuts inside wondering how they were going to survive the whole weekend without anyone noticing they had another boy around- a boy with a pet owl for that matter.
And that's when the entire family got a look at the hotel. Uncle Vernon gasped and Aunt Petunia let out a miniature scream and Harry starred in awe while Dudley bent down to inspect his brand new shoes- they were the light up kind Harry could have sworn no kid over eight wore. If Harry didn't have to spend a weekend in this place he would have laughed at the idea of the Dursleys staying here but as it was….
The outside was a model of a 14th century castle built by some king or lord (or some other rich white man with absolutely no empathy for any one else, and no taste for that matter) and Harry had to admit it was an interesting idea for a hotel but the problem was that it looked like it had been built during the 14th century. The gray stones that made up the outside of the walls were covered in grease, grime, and huge amounts of mold. The water in the moat surrounding the castle was brown and Harry knew it could pass for that awful American coffee that cowboys drank- so strong it was mud. The drawbridge looked like something out of someone's worst nightmare. Every other wooden plank was missing and most of the ones that were still there were littered with holes and huge giant black spots. The rope was black with age, frayed at every point, and was obviously rotted. There were two turrets at the North and South corners of the castle and each was leaning dangerously outwards as if a strong wind would blow it over. If one looked close one would be able to see that several stones from the turrets had already fallen to the ground.
Uncle Vernon looked around frantically as if he thought that he had driven past the real hotel and ended up in the wrong place. He walked into the forest surrounding the castle as if expecting the real hotel to just appear behind a tree. Harry could not blame Uncle Vernon for his panic for both knew that there was no way that the bridge would ever be able to hold Dudley's weight and Harry had to admit he was a little unsure it could hold his own weight.
Aunt Petunia scrunched her face up like a mouse to the point where a small squeak would have assured every one of her species. She viewed the "hotel" with disdain and Harry knew she was thinking of all the cleaning it would take to get this hotel presentable to anyone better than a street bum.
Dudley was still staring at his shoes.
"Well! Let's go, shall we?" Uncle Vernon asked in a blatantly overly-cheerful voice. "I'm sure that once we get inside things will get better." His attempt at cheerfulness was diminished greatly by the way that came out more like a question and by the obvious fact that he didn't believe a word of what he had just said.
Dudley finally looked up from his shoes and Harry was surprised to notice that Dudley looked pleasantly surprised. He grinned from ear to ear and said, "This looks like a very cool hotel." And leaving a very surprised mother and father behind Dudley shot off- not really though because it is hard for someone of Dudley's size to run. He did not even stop at the drawbridge and instead just kept on running and Aunt Petunia let out another barely audible scream as his feet pounded across the planks. Dudley stopped at the end of the bridge and stared open-mouthed and then turned around to look at his parents as if to say, 'Well!? Aren't you coming?'
Uncle Vernon gave a kind of satisfied grunt and turned toward Harry. "You are going to be our little servant boy for the weekend, got it!? We are going to go in and meet Ms. Riddle while you bring our stuff up. We will bring you up so food after dinner. AND REMEMBER! NO FUNNY BUSINESS! This weekend think Oliver Twist, okay?" Uncle Vernon turned and left Harry speechless by the car loaded with trunks.
Harry did not have time to be upset about Uncle Vernon making him bringing up all of the trunks- about ten of them in all because Dudley could not be without any of his gadgets for an hour let alone a weekend. He kept rerunning one phrase of the speech through his head- "Ms. Riddle." Harry tried not to panic; after all there must be hundreds, no thousands, of Riddles in Britain alone. Yes that was it- it was just a coincidence.
First story ever- cross your fingers everyone. And don't throw tomatoes at the screen- my sister did it while she was proofreading this and my Dad had a hissy-fit. (But it was worth the money to fix the monitor just to see that.) Throw lettuce or bananas- cleanups a cinch.
For your information Ron, Harry, Hermione and the gang are in the beginning of their sixth year at Hogwarts. The war with Voldemort is about to begin and Harry Potter is at the center of it all. Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore is having a tremendously hard time finding a suitable Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher and refuses to even consider the nutterbrain Minister Fudge wants him to employ.
Nothing in this story is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling except for July- whom I made up, and the excerpt from "Fat Bottomed Girls" which belongs to Freddy Mercury or Queen or some record exec.
Everyone (The two of you reading this) DO NOT FORGET TO CROSS YOUR FINGERS.
Harry's alarm clock rung promptly at 6:30 am on Friday August 13. He didn't know why it had rung- he certainly would never have set an alarm clock to go off at 6:30 on a Friday during summer vacation unless… "Oh damn" he thought as he quickly sprang from his bed and began to hurriedly get dressed. Harry was so tired he forgot that he was straight and dressed like an actual human being instead of an average 16 year old boy.
Once dressed he sprinted down the stairs at top speed only to find the whole family sitting in the kitchen already dressed up all prim and proper waiting for him. They seemed to have forgotten that the eight hour car ride was going to wreak havoc on their fancy suits Harry could have sworn he'd seen on "The Old Timers' Oscar's Worst Outfits." Harry was pretty sure it had been hosted by John Rivers- even though her own outfit had been number 3 on the list. Aunt Petunia was fixing Dudley's orange bowtie while Uncle Vernon was frantically flipping through a stack of papers on his desk.
"Where the hell could it have gone," he was muttering to himself. And then upon noticing Harry's belated entrance Uncle Vernon forgot he was doing and turned towards the late boy with an expression of pure hate written upon his face. Harry did not fail to notice that Uncle Vernon looked at Dudley's sweaty socks with more love than he showed Harry. "Where have you been?" he asked.
Harry found the question rather amusing after all where could he have been, and was about to reply with a smart-alecky remark along the lines of, "I was off on a nice early morning stroll- to walk off the hangover I have from last nights huge wizards bash. I got positively drunk off all the spells I uttered last night- especially the one where I set a curse upon the family that will cause you all to (drum roll please) smile, because really Aunt Petunia, you should watch out for frown lines," when he thought better of it. He instead replied with a bland, "I suppose I must have overslept."
Aunt Petunia sniffed in a way that Harry knew she thought was delicately and turned her nose up at Harry as if he were a particularly nasty piece of the dinner she had cooked the night before (imagine a cross between Haggis, Blood Budding, Boiled Sheep's Head, and the leftover Beet casserole your mother made).
"Well, never mind. We must hurry if we hope to make it to the hotel in time." Uncle Vernon had a "very important meeting" with some buyers from some random foreign country where everyone had weird accents (probably South Carolina). For some odd reason they had decided to hold the meeting at an obscure hotel in Glasgow and insisted that everyone bring their families to stay the weekend.
It had originally been decided that Harry was to stay with the elderly Ms. Figg next door but plans had abruptly been changed when the Dursleys discovered that Ms. Figg was a witch herself. (The Durseleys could not care less weather she was a squib or not- a witch was a witch!) So now the Dursleys were forced to bring Harry to the hotel in Glasgow, but they made sure he was well aware of the rules of conduct. The list was so long Harry at first feared it would not be able to fit in his suitcase even if he did only pack one change of knickers. Some of the rules were more obvious- "Do not under any circumstances fly your broom through the hotel," while others made Harry wonder how on earth the Dursleys could pretend they had no sense of humour- "You may not clog the toilets of the hotel with bewitched bath towels." Surprisingly enough this was number 3- right after "Do not kill Dudley" and right before "Do not kill Uncle Vernon." Harry briefly wondered if Uncle Vernon was aware of where Aunt Petunia's priorities lay.
As if on cue Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Harry proceeded to walk outside and stand around the car waiting for Uncle Vernon to hurry his fat arse outside and open the doors. He took his sweet time locking the door behind him despite Dudley's incessant whining at him to hurry up.
Just as they were about to get in Mr. Brashares from across the street walked by. He lifted up his hand as if about to wave at them, but upon spotting Harry, quickly put his hand down again and practically ran away from the Dursley's driveway. Harry almost laughed to think about how crazy one would have to be to believe Uncle Vernon's nutty story about him being enrolled at St. Brutus's School for Incurably Criminal Boys.
Uncle Vernon had wisely decided to pack the car the night before to prevent a mix up on this most important morning. Harry used the term "wisely" very loosely when it came to his Uncle because he still remembered the time that Uncle Vernon had slipped sweets and candies to Dudley even when his school nurse had decreed that Dudley was way overweight and the school proprietor had notified them that there were no uniforms in Dudley's size. Uncle Vernon still referred to Dudley's girth as a manly paunch. Yes- a manly paunch- and the Titanic sustained "some water damage."
The eight hour ride to the hotel was quite uneventful and Harry began to feel jealous of all the poor little children who were lucky enough to have to listen to their parents sing out of date rock songs at the top of their lungs during long car trips. As if lost in a dream Harry began to sing, "OOOOOOOHHHHHH, you gonna take me home tonight. OOOOOOHHHHHHH, down beside that red fire light. OOOOOOHHHHHH, you gonna let it all hang out. Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round." For a while there Harry was sure Dudley was on the verge of joining in, but was quickly stalled with a chilling glance from his mother, so instead he decided that punching Harry in the arm would be just as much fun.
"What are you so pissy about? You've got an arse bony enough to break one of Hagrid's biscuits on. Probably just jealous that you don't make the rockin' world go round." Harry muttered under his breath while rubbing his arm.
Dudley was very pleased to announce that he was going to count trees to pass the time. Neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon commented on this unusual method, but Harry had the sneaking suspicion that they were both incredibly pleased to learn that Dudley could count at all. Dudley never got higher than seven because every time a cluster of trees would appear he would lose count, throw a miniature fit and be forced to start all over. Harry heard Aunt Petunia whisper to Uncle Vernon that he should slow down the car to help Dudley out. Harry felt the car slow down another ten kilometers an hour and sighed. Only six hours left.
During the car ride Harry attempted to sort out his thoughts about what had occurred during the catastrophe at the Ministry of Magic. He smiled when he thought about Draco's reaction when he had heard that his father was locked up in Azkaban. He attempted to keep the picture in his mind before thoughts of Sirius intruded, but to no avail. Over and over in his mind Harry replayed the moment that Sirius had fallen behind the curtain. He analyzed every nano-second of the time before hand in an attempt to find what he could have done to prevent his death.
Unbidden a voice in Harry's head said, "Do not dwell in the past, but live in the future." Harry looked around frantically trying to figure out where the voice could have come from and finally remembered that it was something Dumbledore had told him after Cedric's death. (A/N- do not remember if he actually said this.)
Harry decided it would be a wise decision to follow this advice and began to rescour Daily Prophet papers in his head and picked apart the parts that interested him. "Mystery Muggle Deaths Haunt Weatherby," "Veronica Nairy Connected to Voldemort," and "Attempted Break In at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Although the break in had been unsuccessful it was this last article that worried Harry the most. He had partly been counting on Voldemort's fear of Dumbledore to keep him safe for the next two years. And now he finds out that Voldemort is trying to get into Hogwarts! It definitely disturbed Harry greatly.
Harry had also received vast amounts of mail from both Ron and Hermione and this summer they had been allowed to discuss issues prominent among the wizarding society. Especially useful were Mr. and Mrs. Weasly's letters stating the opinion and beliefs of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had wished that they had been able to send them some of their plans but he knew that they couldn't because of the insecurity of mail these days.
With all of these thoughts rushing around in his head Harry felt himself becoming slightly groggy, but didn't want to sleep just yet- he knew he'd have plenty of time for that locked up in the hotel room. He forced his eyes open and decided to join Dudley in his time killing exercise.
By the time they had reached the hotel Dudley had reached 24 (Harry had reached 1,259 when he had finally given up) and Harry was ready to kill him because midway through the ride Dudley had decided it would be helpful to count out loud. Four hours of "1..2,3…..4,5,6….6…oh damnit- I have to start over," had taken their toll on Harry's sanity. He noticed that even Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked a little peaked too.
Now that they had arrived at the hotel Harry knew that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be going nuts inside wondering how they were going to survive the whole weekend without anyone noticing they had another boy around- a boy with a pet owl for that matter.
And that's when the entire family got a look at the hotel. Uncle Vernon gasped and Aunt Petunia let out a miniature scream and Harry starred in awe while Dudley bent down to inspect his brand new shoes- they were the light up kind Harry could have sworn no kid over eight wore. If Harry didn't have to spend a weekend in this place he would have laughed at the idea of the Dursleys staying here but as it was….
The outside was a model of a 14th century castle built by some king or lord (or some other rich white man with absolutely no empathy for any one else, and no taste for that matter) and Harry had to admit it was an interesting idea for a hotel but the problem was that it looked like it had been built during the 14th century. The gray stones that made up the outside of the walls were covered in grease, grime, and huge amounts of mold. The water in the moat surrounding the castle was brown and Harry knew it could pass for that awful American coffee that cowboys drank- so strong it was mud. The drawbridge looked like something out of someone's worst nightmare. Every other wooden plank was missing and most of the ones that were still there were littered with holes and huge giant black spots. The rope was black with age, frayed at every point, and was obviously rotted. There were two turrets at the North and South corners of the castle and each was leaning dangerously outwards as if a strong wind would blow it over. If one looked close one would be able to see that several stones from the turrets had already fallen to the ground.
Uncle Vernon looked around frantically as if he thought that he had driven past the real hotel and ended up in the wrong place. He walked into the forest surrounding the castle as if expecting the real hotel to just appear behind a tree. Harry could not blame Uncle Vernon for his panic for both knew that there was no way that the bridge would ever be able to hold Dudley's weight and Harry had to admit he was a little unsure it could hold his own weight.
Aunt Petunia scrunched her face up like a mouse to the point where a small squeak would have assured every one of her species. She viewed the "hotel" with disdain and Harry knew she was thinking of all the cleaning it would take to get this hotel presentable to anyone better than a street bum.
Dudley was still staring at his shoes.
"Well! Let's go, shall we?" Uncle Vernon asked in a blatantly overly-cheerful voice. "I'm sure that once we get inside things will get better." His attempt at cheerfulness was diminished greatly by the way that came out more like a question and by the obvious fact that he didn't believe a word of what he had just said.
Dudley finally looked up from his shoes and Harry was surprised to notice that Dudley looked pleasantly surprised. He grinned from ear to ear and said, "This looks like a very cool hotel." And leaving a very surprised mother and father behind Dudley shot off- not really though because it is hard for someone of Dudley's size to run. He did not even stop at the drawbridge and instead just kept on running and Aunt Petunia let out another barely audible scream as his feet pounded across the planks. Dudley stopped at the end of the bridge and stared open-mouthed and then turned around to look at his parents as if to say, 'Well!? Aren't you coming?'
Uncle Vernon gave a kind of satisfied grunt and turned toward Harry. "You are going to be our little servant boy for the weekend, got it!? We are going to go in and meet Ms. Riddle while you bring our stuff up. We will bring you up so food after dinner. AND REMEMBER! NO FUNNY BUSINESS! This weekend think Oliver Twist, okay?" Uncle Vernon turned and left Harry speechless by the car loaded with trunks.
Harry did not have time to be upset about Uncle Vernon making him bringing up all of the trunks- about ten of them in all because Dudley could not be without any of his gadgets for an hour let alone a weekend. He kept rerunning one phrase of the speech through his head- "Ms. Riddle." Harry tried not to panic; after all there must be hundreds, no thousands, of Riddles in Britain alone. Yes that was it- it was just a coincidence.