June, 1976

Hogsmeade

After a lot of begging, the fifth-year students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry got their well-deserved day off in Hogsmeade before their O.W.L.s – only to find the village busier than usual, for another witchcraft and wizardry school had granted its students a day off in Hogsmeade as well.

"Who are all these people?" complained a dark-haired boy from Hogwarts to his three friends, all of them sitting at a table inside a crowded Three Broomsticks, "It was supposed to be our day off!"

"If it's not to your liking," cuttingly said a female teen as she walked by their table, her uniform letting them know she was from Durmstrang, "There's the door."

All four boys at the table looked at her and suddenly froze, as if they had been stunned; not even the dark-haired boy, James Potter was able to utter anything in reply.

"Wh-what just happened?" muttered one of them after a few seconds, finally feeling he could speak again.

"No idea, Moony." said James, turning his head, trying to see where she had gone, "But she is gorgeous!"

"Yes," murmured another boy, "But looks somewhat familiar."

"Well, considering the people your family befriends, Padfoot, that means she's trouble," said the one they called Moony.

"Does any of you know who's that?" asked a blond teenager sitting at another table nearby with four of his friends, all of them watching the Durmstrang girl walk to the cashier to pay for her butterbeer. "I feel like I know her..."

"She's from Durmstrang," said one of the others.

"Oh, really, Yaxley?" said the blonde, sarcastically. "Thanks for telling me that, otherwise I'd have never known she's not from Hogwarts since she's wearing the Durmstrang uniform!"

"Durmstrang came to visit Hogsmeade this weekend, Lucius," explained another boy, Eric Travers, "And they'll have dinner at Hogwarts tonight, before going back to Durmstrang tomorrow morning."

"How do you know that?" asked Yaxley, looking very impressed by his friend's knowledge.

"If you had paid attention to what the Headmaster was saying this morning, you would l've known it too," said Travers in a monotone.

But the fourth teenager at the table kept quiet, only listening to his friends' comments about the Durmstrang girl, his dark eyes following her as she paid and thanked the man behind the counter.

He watched her turn and walk towards the exit, talking to her friends in what seemed to be French, and, for a second, her eyes met his. They were dark-green, like emeralds, and they complemented her rosy lips and long brown wavy hair beautifully.

When she walked by their table, all four boys froze, just like the Gryffindors had before.

"Bloody hell," growled Malfoy once he could think again, "She's part-veela!"

"Veela? But I believe she was speaking French... wasn't she?" asked a disoriented Yaxley.

"Just because you're too lazy to learn a second language, that doesn't mean everyone else is," said Travers, clearly annoyed.

"It makes sense..." nodded Lucius. "Durmstrang is somewhere in northern Europe, and veelas are the mascots of the Bulgarian national Quidditch team. But still... it's unusual to send girls to Durmstrang." He looked at his silent dark-haired friend, "What do you think, Severus? Do you know who she might be?"

"No idea," Severus shook his head, "And it's truly unusual to send girls to Durmstrang, yes, but times have been changing, Lucius."

"Hm. Yes, they are," Murmured the blonde, still intrigued.

Later that day, as he walked back to the castle with his friends, Severus Snape couldn't stop thinking about Her: the Durmstrang veela.

The way her eyes had sparkled for that brief moment they'd met his, and the sweet perfume she'd left in the air when she walked by their table.

He was also curious to learn how a French-speaking half-veela had ended up studying in Durmstrang and not Beauxbatons - which would be closer from home if she were French.

"Hey, Eric," Said Lucius, as they walked by the gates, "You said Durmstrang will have dinner at Hogwarts tonight?"

"That's what Dumbledore said," Eric Travers replied.

"Great! For I can't stop thinking about that Durmstrang veela," continued Lucius, "It's not everyday I have the chance to get to know one of those – if you know what I mean." He winked at his friends, smirking.

Severus felt a wave of disgust and anger at his friend's double-entendre, "And who says she'll be interested in you?" he found himself bitterly saying.

Lucius walked to him, draping his arm across Severus' shoulders and saying: "Women are always interested when one has money, my friend," his words making Travers and Yaxley laugh.

"Not that you would know that." Lucius added in a whisper so that only Severus could hear, knowingly twisting the knife in what was a sore-point for the dark-haired teen.

Later that evening

Hogwarts' Great Hall

"Good night, children," started Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, "Before we begin attacking our food, I want to invite our guests for tonight to enter the Great Hall. Please, welcome the students from Durmstrang, who will be joining us for dinner."

Through the big oaken doors, forty-two students, divided in two groups and all wearing the Durmstrang brown-ish uniform, walked into the Great Hall.

Severus saw Lucius Malfoy elbowing Travers as they looked at them; it was easy to find Her; amongst the few Durmstrang girls, She stood out; her wavy brown hair flowing beautifully down her shoulders, moving mesmerizingly.

The Durmstrang students chose their seats between the four tables of the Great Hall and the veela girl ended up sitting at the Slytherin table, not too far from where Severus and Lucius were.

"I hope you enjoy our feast!" said Dumbledore, frowning slightly as his eyes fell on one particular student, trying to remember who she reminded him of. At last, he added: "Let's attack!"

And lots and lots of beautiful fragrant food magically appeared on the tables.

Florence Peverell did her best to ignore the weird way the Hogwarts Headmaster had looked at her and began filling up her plate, finding it hard to decide what to try first for everything looked delicious.

"So, we can agree that it's impossible to compare Hogwarts to Durmstrang, right?" said a very blond boy sitting across the table, a few seats to her right, "In Durmstrang you really learn things," he added.

She looked at him, finding him familiar with his blond hair and pompous disposition and quickly realized he had to be a Malfoy, but that left her with more questions than answers, for according to what she knew Lucius Malfoy was six years her senior – therefore too old to still be in school.

Also, was he flirting with her?

Gross. She thought, recalling he was engaged to be married to her friend Narcissa Black in a matter of months.

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" Florence finally said, pretending to be distracted, "I hadn't even noticed you were there."

Severus hid his smile behind his glass of pumpkin juice, while some students nearby stopped eating and looked at the blonde, curious to see how he was going to deal with that burn.

"I'm Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy," he said his name, waiting for her reaction as if he was used to getting attention after he introduced himself.

Florence hated people like him – her father was friends with many of those. She decided to keep poking fun at him: "Oh, I know. But, Mr Malfoy, aren't you too old to still be at school?"

Some chuckles were stifled all around them, the students were clearly enjoying Malfoy's humiliation.

"I've already finished school," said Lucius, trying to maintain his superiority act, "I happened to be visiting Hogsmeade when the Headmaster invited me to come dine at the castle," he shot her a smile before adding: "So you know me?"

Florence just shrugged and turned back to her plate, starting to eat, not saying a word in reply, as if she hadn't even heard him.

Severus looked at her with admiration, she had somehow managed to become even more beautiful in his eyes – for watching Lucius Malfoy being humiliated was all he needed after what the blonde had said to him earlier.

Florence didn't fail to notice the way the tall, quiet, dark-haired boy glanced at her.

She was used to stares and consecutive glances, but she had never felt the urge to look back before – until now.

She glanced back at him a few times, finding it mesmerizing the way his long hair softly touched his shoulders whenever he turned his head; she felt the urge to touch those strands to check if they were as soft as they looked.

What the fuck is happening to me? She thought, her reaction to that boy was very unusual.

He wasn't as well-dressed or well-mannered as his friends, but she found him handsome - also his subtle smirk as she'd mocked Malfoy gave him a few points in her eyes.

His dark eyes met hers and Florence quickly looked towards the high table, finding it disconcerning how her heart suddenly leapt and started beating faster.

Fucking hell! Who is he?

She focused on the high table, watching the teachers and the Headmaster. She focused on Dumbledore, concluding, surprised, he looked small and old – truly disappointing.

I was expecting more from the famous Dumbledore.

Considering all the things she had heard her father say over the years about the Hogwarts Headmaster, Florence had expected a tall powerful man, not a frail-looking grandpa in weird purple robes.

But, aside from the disappointing Headmaster, Hogwarts itself was magnificent.

Florence was totally bewitched by the castle, by its vast and beautiful grounds, the several tall towers, the many courtyards...

And that one dark-haired boy-

Nope! She refused to think of her strange reaction to him.

The castle- focus on the castle! she ordered her own mind.

The castle, yes, there seemed to be peace and serenity inside those walls – almost like a home-y feeling she hadn't felt since her mother's passing, eight years ago.

Florence's father's house was great, comfortable, luxurious, safe, but peaceful? Not really.

Being home meant training with her father, studying harder than at school and joining him on dinners where the only bright-side was Narcissa, Andromeda and, sometimes, Regulus Black.

She looked down the long table and easily found him sitting far from her, she waved and he waved back.

And at the Durmstrang Institute, she was 'The Daughter of Lord Peverell', surrounded by her father's friends, her father's friends' children, and other pretentious pureblood windbags.

Hogwarts made Florence feel surprisingly welcome.

If she studied there, she would be able to be herself, make friends with people that would be nice to her because they liked her, not because her father was rich and powerful.

So... why not? She thought, deciding she would transfer to Hogwarts – she was going to finish her education in that beautiful castle!

She only had to inform her father of that.

After she finished eating, Florence stood up and walked towards the big oaken doors, trying to find a fireplace connected to the Floo Network.

But as she left the Great Hall, walked up a large staircase and found some big moving stairs, she realized she had no idea where to go; so she turned around to go back to the Hall to talk to the Durmstrang teacher that had accompanied them, when she bumped into someone – the dark-haired teen she had been exchanging glances with during dinner.

"I'm sorry," She said with a smile, "Can you help me? To whom may I talk to be able to use the castle Floo Network?"

Severus stopped, feeling momentarily stunned by her smile, only after a few seconds he answered: "I believe any of the teachers could help you," then he left quickly, annoyed by his lack of control near her.

Rude. She thought, watching him go down some stairs.

Then Florence looked inside the Great Hall once more and saw that a lot of students had finished their dinners and were coming towards the exit, making getting back in very difficult, so she decided to wait by the doors until a teacher had come out.

And soon a tall, stern-looking woman walked by her, so Florence asked for her help: "Excuse me, I'm from Durmstrang and I'd like to know if it's possible for me to use the castle Floo Network."

"If it's urgent, Miss, you may follow me and I'll take you to the Headmaster's office. His fireplace is the only authorized one. Have you spoken to your own teacher about this?"

"Yes, of course," she lied.

Little Hangleton, Peverell Manor

Florence opened her eyes to see the large entrance hall of her father's home and stepped out of the fireplace into the quiet and dark sitting area, waiting for the usual dizziness she felt whenever she used the Floo Network to go down.

She looked around, enjoying the stillness of the room. All the lights were off, no noise could be heard from the kitchens and no elves could be seen, it was rare to have such level of silence in that house, there was always people coming and going and five elves running up and down the stairs to keep everything pristine and perfect.

Once she felt better, Florence walked towards the large staircase, but light coming from a room to the right of the stairs caught her attention and she frowned - that room was never used for anything other than her training, they even called it The Training Room. As far as she was concerned, her father only used it to teach her advanced spells and duelling techniques – things, he used to say, no school would ever teach her.

But the door was slightly ajar, and curiosity took the best of her, so she peeked inside the room – and what she saw in there changed the whole course of her life.

Inside the large, usually empty room, was a big table Florence had never seen before, but no one was sitting around it.

The big fireplace was lit and a large wooden chest sat near it.

In front of the fireplace there was an armchair that she recognised as belonging in the living room. Someone was sitting in that armchair and a man was on one knee in front of it, his face down, as if he was examining the rug.

"Don't worry, My Lord," the kneeling man spoke, in a shaky voice. "The Hogsmeade mission was a success. Dear Florence is safe inside Hogwarts Castle as we speak."

Avery. She recognised his voice.

So her father had sent Avery to watch over her in the village? Well, she couldn't say she was surprised.

"Good to know, Avery," answered the man in the armchair, in a soft, calm voice, "You've shown me you're deserving of the Mark that was given to you, by keeping my secret safe."

Florence recognised that voice: it was her father in the armchair. And she also recognised that coldness in his tone; she had the impulse to run into the room and tell Avery to run away for his life for nothing good ever happened when her father spoke softly like that.

"Now, open the chest behind you, Avery," continued her father, "While you watched over my daughter, your friends did you a favour."

Looking really scared, Avery stood up and slowly walked to the wooden chest. He opened it and whatever was inside of it disturbed him deeply, for he fell onto his knees as a choked sob left his throat.

Florence watched all of that from the door, struggling to understand what was happening there.

It was clear that Avery was using all of his strength to keep his tears from falling, but he gave no hint of what was in that chest.

Her father spoke again: "I ordered your friends to get rid of that muggle whore of yours."

Florence stopped breathing, her heart pounding in her ears.

What-?

"Find some place to dump the filth, will you?" finished her father, nonchalantly.

Avery reached inside the chest and picked up the dead body of a slender woman with long dark-hair and finally lost the fight against his feelings, falling onto his knees again, hugging the dead woman and sobbing loudly.

"Crucio!" her father cast.

And Avery let go of the woman, falling onto the stone floor beside the corpse, suddenly screaming and writhing.

Florence tried to close her eyes, feeling nauseous, but found out she couldn't, the shock running through her body had her paralysed.

She knew the pain of the Cruciatus curse, her father had trained her to not be affected by it – which meant she had endured many months of having the curse cast on her weekly until she could resist it satisfactorily. Building core strength, her father had called it.

Torturing a ten-year-old was the right term.

Avery's screams finally stopped after a few seconds that had felt like hours, and Florence was able to blink again but didn't take her eyes from the room.

"I-I'm s-so-sorry, My L-Lord," Avery struggled to say, fighting to control the trembling in his voice, picking up the dead woman from the floor and shakingly standing up.

"Don't ever get your hands dirty with a muggle again," said Florence's father.

"N-never, My Lord. Never again!" Avery bowed awkwardly to him, "I'll g-get rid o-of this f-filth now," He added and turned to walk to the door.

Florence could see the pain etched in his face as he crossed the room with the dead woman in his arms, it was heartbreaking.

Avery seemed to take a deep breath and raised his head.

Florence trembled, knowing she had to get away from the door or he'd see her at any moment, but she was too shaken to walk, she didn't think her legs would be able to carry her.

Then she heard her father's soft voice again: "Before you get yourself killed and die without knowing, Avery, the muggle bitch was pregnant."

Avery stopped on his way to the door and Florence saw raw fury flash in his eyes, mixing with the pain.

"I don't need to remind you what our objective is, do I?" her father added.

Avery shook his head, before resuming walking slowly to the door with the corpse in his arms.

Florence jumped away from the door and ran upstairs to her bedroom, her heart in her throat, blood pounding in her ears.

She closed the door and sat on her bed, trying to understand all that she had heard, what all of that meant.

Could it be-?

Yes, there seemed to be only one explanation: her father was the-one-who-shall-not-be-named.

The man everyone knew as Lord Peverell- her father- was Voldemort.

Florence panted, thinking how he had never been a loving father, but neither had he ever hurt her outside of the Training Room.

Quite the opposite: she was pampered, lived in luxury and had nothing to complain about him except his coldness – which had worsened after her mother's death so she assumed that was the reason for his aloofness.

All in all, she couldn't say he was a horrible father to her.

At the same time, she couldn't deny having already thought that he might be a follower of the Dark Lord – his beliefs matched all she had ever heard about the man and his cult.

But she could never have imagined he was Voldemort himself!

Not just a follower - but the cult's leader!

Minutes passed, and Florence still sat on her bed, her whole body shaking.

What will I do now? She asked herself, looking around her bedroom, trying to find an answer; she had no other family but her father, she was still underaged, a student in a school filled with his followers!

She paused, suddenly realizing she had reached her answer: Hogwarts!

Transferring to Hogwarts had been the reason she had gone home that night, now she knew it was her only option!

I have the money mom left me when she died, plus mom's house in Hogsmeade. I can finish my education in Hogwarts! I can do this on my own! She thought, trying to give herself courage to actually run away from the only family she had.

Florence took a deep calming breath – she had a plan of sorts.

So she quickly gathered as many of her things as she could, throwing them inside a couple of suitcases that she shrank and put in her pockets.

Then she called: "Tiffany!" and a well-dressed, green-eyed house-elf appeared.

"Mistress Florence! Tiffany had no idea her Mistress was home!"

"Yes, Tiff. Listen," She quickly replied, "Take me to my mother's house in Hogsmeade. We'll be living there from now on, you and I."

The small elf nodded happily and grabbed her hand, disapparating both of them.