Hogwarts

Professor Minerva McGonagall was getting ready to go to her quarters and rest after dinner when she received orders from the Headmaster to go get a student at the Castle gates – which she found very strange for she hadn't noticed any of their students missing, also Dumbledore hadn't even told her the name of the student she was supposed to escort back to the castle. But she sighed and went anyway – after all, orders were orders.

McGonagall took a thestral carriage and quickly approached the gates.

Once the thestrals stopped, she jumped off, immediately recognising the student on the other side of the tall iron gate: it was the half-veela girl from Durmstrang.

"What are you doing here?" McGonagall asked, discourteously, "You asked to floo home not an hour ago!"

"I need to see Dumbledore," replied Florence nervously.

McGonagall couldn't believe she was losing precious resting hours for that. She exhaled, trying to control her annoyance, and opened the gates to let the student in.

"What's your name?"

"Florence- Delacour." She hesitated, quickly realizing she shouldn't use her father's surname anymore.

"Ok, Miss Delacour. I'm Professor McGonagall. What is it that you have to speak to the Headmaster?"

"I'd like to talk only to him, please."

McGonagall looked at the girl, her expression clearly showing she didn't like what she was seeing.

But precious minutes were ticking by and she wanted to rest, "Very well," she took a deep breath and continued: "It's late and I'm tired, let's board the carriage and go see the Headmaster."

The ride from the gates to the castle was mostly silent.

Florence tried to make polite conversation, but the teacher was clearly not interested.

When they stopped at the castle doors, McGonagall got off of the carriage and told Florence to follow her.

They walked upstairs for a few minutes, going up three floors, until they stopped in front of the statue of a gargoyle.

The stern professor gave the statue a password (Gingerbread) and it moved to the side, opening the entrance to a spiral staircase.

McGonagall turned to Florence then, "Go upstairs and wait for Professor Dumbledore in his office, he hasn't returned from the Great Hall yet. Don't touch anything. There are lemon drops in a jar on his desk, you can have some if you like."

"Thank you, Professor."

McGonagall nodded and walked away. Florence walked upstairs and entered a very beautiful office.

There was a large desk to the left with two upholstered chairs in front of it and another tall, equally upholstered, wooden armchair behind it.

Books filled many shelves all around the office, and large portraits hung on the walls, probably of previous headmasters, but the people in them were all asleep or gone for the night, so she had no one to talk to.

Florence sighed and sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk, feeling the weight of the reality of her situation hit her: in her haste to leave her father's house, she hadn't stopped to think about how welcome she would actually be in Hogwarts.

What was she going to tell Dumbledore? And what would he do to her? After all, she was Voldemort's daughter; would he give her a chance and let her stay in the castle?

Would he even listen to her?

And what if he did listen but sent her away anyway? Where would she study? She couldn't go back to Durmstrang, not now that she knew the Institute was filled with her father's followers!

She started to hyperventilate, worry filling up her mind and making her realize the gravity of all of that: would Dumbledore kill her? Or keep her as hostage to try and make her father stop his evil-doings?

I'm as good as dead if so. Father will never stop his plans just to get me back – he is fond of me, but certainly not to that extent.

Florence started to panic.

She hadn't thought at all how this talking-to-Dumbledore-plan-of-sorts would go.

I could try to keep it secret! I'm a good occlument! but that thought was quickly shut down as she realised disconsolately: But Dumbledore is probably a great legiliment.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, her shoe-clad feet resting on the cushioned seat, and let her head fall on her knees, closing her eyes, feeling lost.

Headmaster Dumbledore walked upstairs to his office, thinking about the Durmstrang student he was on his way to meet; to say he had been surprised by receiving her Patronus message was an understatement. A teenager being able to perform a corporeal Patronus powerful enough to deliver a message should not be ignored - the professor had already learned his lesson when it came to paying attention to talented young wizards.

He walked into his office and stopped beside his desk, looking at the girl who slept in one of the armchairs; he was surprised to see it was the same girl that had caught his attention during dinner – the one who reminded him of someone, he just couldn't remember whom.

McGonagall said the girl had hesitated before telling her surname, giving Delacour after a second; therefore Dumbledore doubted that was her true family name.

Her father is most likely one of Tom's sympathizers and she's trying to hide that from me. He concluded.

The girl stirred in the armchair and looked up at him, blinking the drowsiness away.

"Good evening, Miss Delacour," Dumbledore said, "Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Prof. McGonagall told me you went home earlier, but now you are back here. How can I help you?" he sat on the tall armchair behind his desk and looked at her over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

Florence rubbed her eyes, and stared at him, biting the inner side of her cheek, not knowing how to begin.

She slowly put her feet down, sitting up straight and starting: "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Professor…" she nodded, carefully choosing her words, "Yes, I went home earlier, but… there, at home, I saw… I… I don't know how to explain to you what I saw," she let out a heavy sigh, aware she hadn't been successful in hiding her nervousness.

The headmaster frowned, it was clear something disturbing had been witnessed by the student in front of him: "I can see you're not well, dear. Let's do this: I'll ask the kitchens for some chamomile tea and you can answer some of my questions instead of trying to tell me whatever happened to make you so nervous."

"Yes, please," she softly replied, smiling and relaxing a little, "Thank you."

Dumbledore stood up and walked to his fireplace, calling the kitchens for some tea and biscuits.

Before he had finished walking back to his chair, a tray had already appeared on his desk and Florence stood up, pouring the tea for them, noticing that there was no milk on the tray.

She handed Dumbledore his cup, took one for herself, grabbed a biscuit, and sat back on the armchair.

"Thank you, dear." said Dumbledore. "I recognise the good manners taught at Beauxbatons and have to wonder how were they imbued in you," he eyed her Durmstrang uniform in a silent question.

"Well, professor, I studied at the Beauxbatons Academy for three years."

The Headmaster sipped his tea, never taking his blue eyes off of her, fearing he had started to realise why she looked so familiar.

"Who are your parents, Miss Delacour?"

Florence winced, finding difficulty swallowing the biscuit she had just eaten.

"That's not a simple answer, Headmaster…" her voice small and hesitant.

"Isn't it?" He asked, leaning forward, resting his clasped hands on top of his desk, "How so?"

She tossed back her tea, anxious to buy herself some time to think; then she set the empty cup on the desk, before speaking again: "I'll start telling you about my mum, is that ok?"

"As you wish."

"My mum's name was Sophie Delacour. She lived in France and came to England to study Genealogy. Here, she fell in love with a man and they found out they were victims of an ancient magic called The Enchantment-"

Dumbledore interrupted her: "They were blessed by The Enchantment, you mean."

Florence shook her head, "Having witnessed how much my mom suffered, I can't bring myself to think of it as a blessing."

She waited for the Headmaster to say anything but he didn't, so she went on: "She loved my father so much and he loved her – at least I like to think he did, in his own way."

"You talk about her in the past tense."

"Yes. She passed when I was eight. She loved him, Headmaster," she knew she sounded more and more nervous, "Mum never thought he could be doing something wrong, he worked a lot to provide for us. And he travelled for work, doing research for a potions company. Even though my mom didn't need him to work that much for she had inherited a lot of money when her parents died."

She paused, pouring herself some more tea and drinking it out of nervousness more than thirst.

"And how did she die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"When I was five, mum discovered she had Draconian Syndrome and she died three years later."

Dumbledore nodded, his tense shoulders and firmly clasped hands letting her know he wasn't as calm as his voice tried to make her believe, "So," he said, "since then you've been living with your father," there was not a hint of a smile on his face, "And his name is?"

"Yes, well..." Florence hesitated, afraid of telling him the truth, "You see, Prof. Dumbledore, I grew up in a very good house, I always had everything, even my own house elf, and… and when I got expelled from Beauxbatons, father was understanding, enrolling me in Durmstrang with no punishments and…" she was rambling, suddenly and unexpectedly defending her father as fear clouded her mind.

"Florence," called Dumbledore in a firm voice, his eyes fixed on hers, leaving no doubt he already knew the answer to his question and lying wouldn't do her any favour, "who is your father?"

"Lord Peverell." she whispered and closed her eyes, fearing his reaction.

There was silence.

The headmaster's blue eyes bored into hers and Florence could feel he was trying to find deceitfulness in her mind; she let him probe her thoughts for she had nothing to hide.

"So," he finally spoke, his voice once more soft, "Tom changed his name."

Florence was a bit surprised by the his words and lack of anger.

"I-I don't know about him changing his name," She said, noticing how he still seemed worried and wary as silence descended on the office once more.

She felt uneasy by the headmaster's strange unexpected behaviour, being taken by a need to explain herself: "I know what you're probably thinking, but it was not him who sent me here!" She looked at him with near desperation, "I didn't even know who he was until an hour ago! Father doesn't know I'm here. I went home, and I saw something… horrible, and came back here as fast as I could."

Dumbledore slowly nodded, "I think I've heard enough."

"Please, Headmaster," her green eyes filled up with tears as she clearly thought he was going to send her away. "I don't- I'm telling the truth-"

But he raised his hand, silencing her; he could hear the truth in her voice - and her fear was real - he wouldn't turn his back on her.

"Calm down, my dear," He smiled, "I believe you. But why did you go home? You should've gone back to the Durmstrang ship with the others after the feast."

She tried to control her trembling voice, "I went home to ask my father to let me come to Hogwarts after the O.W.L.s. I wanted... I mean, I want to study here. But then I saw..." she shuddered at the memory.

"What did you see, child?" He asked, softly.

"A meeting of some sort" a tear ran down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, "There was a dead woman, Avery's girlfriend for what I understood. Someone killed her because she was muggleborn..." more tears started to fall faster than she could wipe them away. "Avery was tortured for loving her... and my father made him carry her dead body from the room and ordered him to get rid of it," her voice broke, the next words but a whisper: "A-and the woman, she was pregnant."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, my dear." He looked at her with compassion.

Florence finished her tea in silence, feeling the weight on the Headmaster's gaze on her the entire time.

"I think," she said after a moment, needing confirmation: "I think my father is the one they call Voldemort."

Dumbledore hesitated for a second but then he nodded, "Yes. He is."

Florence just breathed, trying to digest that information.

"Would you tell me what else you heard at this meeting?" Asked Dumbledore.

She nodded, "Not much... father mentioned Avery had had a Mark given to him, something he had shown he deserved by ensuring my safety. What is that Mark?"

"Voldemort's followers get a Dark Mark, like a tattoo, on their left forearm. It's a skull..."

"...with a snake leaving its mouth," she finished, "Like the Dark Mark they leave in the sky after a murder. I've seen it drawn in classmates notebooks..."

"Yes. That's your father's Mark, and he also uses that tattoo as a way to summon his followers. It has a spell in it."

Florence set her empty cup on the desk and silently stared at Dumbledore, not knowing what else to say.

"Now," continued the Headmaster, "Let's talk about you. As you are on the run, we cannot ask for your papers and grades from Durmstrang, but you may take the O.W.L.s here in three days and, if you pass them, you can start the sixth year here in September, otherwise you'll start the fifth year. What do you say?"

She gaped, hardly believing what she had just heard, "Yes!" She suddenly exclaimed, "Of course! I've been studying to pass the O.W.L.s at the Institute, so I believe I'll be able to pass them here as well. Thank you, Dumbledore!" She smiled at him, but soon grimaced, "Do you know where I can hide for the the next three days? I have a home in Hogsmeade but father has access to it-" she stopped talking for Dumbledore suddenly got up from his chair and took an old hat from a tall bookcase.

"Let's see where the Sorting Hat thinks you should stay," he said, "Although, I am sure we both know where you will end up being sorted into." then he put the Hat on her.

Florence heard a voice in her mind as soon as the Hat touched her head: "Hm, what do we have here? What a mind! Yes! I see your potential. Ooh, yes! The Hat moved on her head, so much that it felt like it was going to fall off. I see courage, fairness, but I also see power! And desire to be the best, to show you can do thongs your way. There's no doubt where you belong. Not to mention: it's in your blood." Then he spoke aloud: "SLYTHERIN!"

"No surprises there," said Dumbledore while taking the Hat off her head and putting it back on the bookshelf, "Now, I'll accompany you to the Slytherin common room. You can go to the library, if you need to study for the O.W.L.s. and any questions you might have, you can ask the teachers," He paused, remembering something, "Do you know any students here already?"

"Yes. Regulus Black is a dear friend of mine. I know his brother too," She finished with a scowl.

"Good." Dumbledore tilted his head, asking next: "Do the Blacks know about your father?"

"I'm afraid I don't know how to answer that. I used to spend holidays at Grimmauld Place and summer vacations at Aunt Druella's beach house in Italy, but none of them ever mentioned my father in any other way but 'Lord Peverell'."

Dumbledore nodded, "Knowing your father, there's most likely a curse or some other sort of punishment for them if they reveal to others you're Voldemort's daughter," He sighed, considering that conversation over; looking at her with something akin to pride, he added: "Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Delacour, I can't wait to see what you'll achieve here."

"Thank you so much, Prof. Dumbledore. It's been a long time since someone has shown me any kindness. After mum died, anyone who's offered me a hand had a hidden interest to do so."

"I believe you, child," he said with a sad smile.