Here's our next chapter! A brand new flashback just for you guys!
Spring 1944 came too fast, "Papa, I need to rest." Miranda gasped, kneeling on the dirt where his spell had flung her. They'd started dueling at noon and the sun had already started to set. She was exhausted, but he had just gotten more and more belligerent.
"Get up." He hissed at her.
Miranda looked up at him in shock. "Papa?"
"I said get up!" He yelled, wand raised in front of him.
Miranda scrambled to her feet, lunging for her own wand. Never before had she truly feared her Papa, but he'd come home different this time. He was angry. His eyes were empty. She should never have followed him outside with the way his face had looked, but she had never seen him like this to even know what to expect. "Papa?" Miranda begged again, but he didn't even blink in response.
He raised his wand again, "Stupefy!"
"Protego!" She shrieked, stumbling across the open courtyard with no real destination. As was usual for their dueling sessions he had sealed the exits when he had demanded she join him. The only way out was up, and, even if she could ride one, she didn't have a broom.
"Expulso!" He shouted, and the tree next to her blew up, the force of the explosion slamming her into another sturdy tree.
Pain coursed through her face as her lip split open, and through her side as one of her ribs broke. Blood spurted from her mouth and she had no choice but to lay there for a moment. Pain hadn't been her companion for so long that she was stunned by it. The need to save herself won out though and she gripped her wand, gurgling, "Stupefy."
He hit the ground.
Never had she ever gotten the better of him, but she couldn't enjoy the victory. Her eyes drifted shut, and the next thing she knew he had crawled to her and cradled her face in his hands, "Oh, Pet. There you are, there's a good girl."
He had healed her ribs and her face, but the exhaustion lingered and she just stared up at him blearily, "Papa?"
"I should never have come home in such a state, Pet." He whispered, brushing her hair out of her eyes, "I've tried to protect you all these years, and I'm the one who's hurt you."
"You healed me." Miranda told him, pulling her knees closer to her chest so she could curl closer to him.
"I thought you were safe here. It couldn't harm you here." He muttered, leaning over to press his forehead in to hers, breathing in the clean scent of her dark hair.
"I'm alright, Papa." She insisted, but her exhausted brain was struggling to keep up with his words, "Why would anyone want to harm me?"
He laughed. Loud enough to scare her before he stopped and forced her to sit up, "You were so damaged when I found you, Miranda. I thought you might have been…but you weren't. Not entirely. I thought you saved him, but I was wrong. He saved you. Barely. Your tremendous latent powers were on the cusp, and, though I suspected they might wane, they didn't. There's a creature that you would be a great prize for. You are my prize." He kissed her on the forehead, "Obliviate."
Ever since Hermione had banished her 'unusual' and 'conspicuous' clothing and suited her with more modern clothing, Harry had been staring even more than he had before. Oddly, Miranda found that she didn't mind at all, and, in fact, she loved feeling his eyes brush over every inch of her exposed body. At first the tightening in her gut had upset her, but now it was a daily game she played with herself to note which clothes kept Harry staring longest. Though she would never admit it, somedays, she dressed with the intention of keeping him distracted all day. She knew she shouldn't, that none of them could afford distraction, but she just didn't care.
One morning, Harry had gone to get a copy of the Prophet and watch the Ministry with his cloak, and Miranda had been restless ever since. She generally went with him when he went out, walking freely through London with him under his cloak beside her. He had left before she had woken that morning, for some reason, and had been gone for hours. That left Miranda shifting in her chair, paying minimal attention to Ron and Hermione's discussion and rubbing her scarred hand as if it hurt. Her blue eyes kept flicking to the door. Kreacher had tried to force some tea and sandwiches down her an hour earlier, but she had ignored it, and when it had gotten cold, he had taken it and poured it out, grumbling about wasteful witches and no appreciation for fine tea. She'd done the same thing when her papa had been gone for longer than he'd said he would be, refused to eat, drink, sometimes even sleep until he came back.
Finally they heard Harry come back in, and Miranda jumped out of her chair, rushing to meet him as he trotted to the kitchen, leaving Ron and Hermione with their research papers strewn on the floor. His face was grim, but he spared her a glance, "Hey, Miranda. You alright there?"
Miranda nodded, not willing to admit to the tension his return had released in her body, "Peachy. Glad you're back unscathed."
He raised his eyebrows for a second and shook his head as his friends joined them, "I almost wish I wasn't. I have news, and you're not going to like it."
Kreacher rushed to Harry, wearing the towel Hermione had convinced him to don instead of his previous wear, "Shoes off, if you please, Master Harry, and hands washed before supper."
"What's happened?" Ron asked.
Harry slammed the newspaper on the table, sending more of their paper flying off it. 'SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER'
"NO!" The other two coursed loudly. Hermione snatched up the paper and read the story aloud, but Miranda wasn't listening, she was watching the emotions flicker across Harry's face. Hurt, betrayal, love. Snape had killed the man he'd thought of as family, the last one he had after Sirius.
Hermione was furious, "Like committing murder and cutting off people's ears, I suppose! Snape, headmaster! Snape in Dumbledore's study-Merlin's pants!" The boys jumped as she cut herself off and ran for the hallway, yelling, "I'll be back in a minute!"
Ron whistled softly, "'Merlin's Pants?' She must be upset."
"She should be, Phineas Nigellus was a Headmaster, he has a painting here in the house too, up in the study. He could be sent to spy on us by Snape." Miranda concluded, keeping up with Hermione's train of thought better than the two males. She offered, "I could try to talk to him, he did know me after all, but it's best to keep him in the dark for now."
Hermione came back, panting, but smiling in exhilaration, "Exactly," She shoved the painting in her hand bag, "Now he'll only see the inside of my purse."
Ron smiled, "Nice, 'Mione."
"What happened today?" Miranda asked, reaching out to touch Harry, something she'd started to realize that she always did when he got upset.
"Watched the Ministry, saw your dad." Harry said, nodding his head at his best friend and putting his hand over Miranda's when she rested it on his shoulder.
Ron looked relieved, communication was too dangerous, and they wouldn't let Miranda talk to him out of fear of him not believing her. "Dad always told us most Ministry people use the Floo Network to get to work. I can't see Umbridge walking to work, she thinks she's too important."
"And what about that funny old witch and that little wizard in the navy robes?" Hermione asked.
Ron smiled in recognition, "Oh yeah, the bloke from Magical Maintenance. I remember seeing him."
"How did you know he works for Magical Maintenance?" Hermione said, watching the back of his head, taking a step closer to him.
"Everyone in the Department of Magical Maintenance wear navy robes." He said, shoving food in his mouth, which Miranda had found was far from unusual.
"You never told us that!" Hermione cried, hitting him on the back of the head with her purse, which left the boy slightly stunned.
"W-what does it matter?" He sputtered.
"Ron, it all matters! That's why having Miranda here is so useful, she can get closer, no one is looking for her. So, yes, knowing if the color robes identify the department is important. We've been over this!"
Ron looked properly cowed, "Blimey, Hermione, I forget one little thing-"
"One little thing about going into the place that is one of the most dangerous places for us to be-"
"We should do it tomorrow." Harry said, which Miranda had been expecting, he'd been eerily anxious for the last few days. Hence her anxiety at him being gone alone for so long. The other two just gapped at him, "The longer we put it off, the farther away the locket could be. We're as ready as we're going to be, we are as prepared as we can be. We know Apparition is out of the question, we know where Umbridge's office is...roughly, and we know that those coins are our tickets in."
"Harry, I understand, but so much could go wrong! So much relies on chance and..."
"Than please, let me help!" Miranda begged, "I can help you, please!"
Harry turned on her, their hands falling apart, "No! We've told you a thousand times! You can't help us!"
"I could help you, if you'd let me. I can to more than just walk around London. You like staring at me all the damn time, but still, after all this time, you don't trust me!" Miranda screamed at him before running up the stairs.
Hermione glared at Harry, "Nice job, Harry, you didn't have to be a git about it!"
He shrugged, "You shouldn't come either, you know, Hermione."
She looked at him aghast, "Oh, don't start that again! I thought we'd settled this!"
"'Mione, you're on the list of Muggle-borns who didn't present themselves for interrogation!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "That's rich, Ronald, you're supposed to be dying at the Burrow! And Harry's got a price on his head!"
Harry through up his hands, "Fine, I'll stay here. let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won't you?"
Ron and Hermione laughed, but Harry's scar suddenly hurt. He touched it, trying to pass it off as if he was brushing his hair out of his eyes. Ron discussed how to get to the Ministry, but Harry didn't hear them, his scar was becoming more and more painful. He stood up and Kreacher hurried forward, talking to him, he brushed him off, "I'll be back in a minute- er- bathroom."
He hurried up the stairs to the hall and then to the first landing, where he dashed into the bathroom, only to see it already in use. Miranda had stuck her face in the sink so she stood there looking at him, water running down her face and dripping from her dark hair, onto her burgundy shirt, making the material cling to her skin. "Harry?" She asked, covering her chest with her arms.
He clutched at his head and fell to the floor at her feet. She sighed tightly, and reached behind him, shutting the door and dragging him to sit on the closed toilet. "Oh, Harry. Again?" She asked him, her anger and frustration melting away at his pain. It was the third time since they had begun their Ministry investigation. Tom was angry, people weren't telling him what he wanted to hear, so he had started out on his own for information. Last she had checked, he was in Germany, but she couldn't tell why it was getting harder and harder for her to reach him, like he was becoming less and less Tom and more Voldemort.
She held Harry's hands in hers as he entered her brother's mind, stroking her scarred hand over his forehead. Before, she'd always just sat and held him, keeping him quiet so the others wouldn't panic, but something was different this time. Suddenly she was in his vision, with him, in Tom.
He was walking along a street lined with what looked like gingerbread houses. He walked to one of them and knocked. The door opened, and an older woman opened it, the smile falling from her face, "Gregorovitch?" He said and the woman shook her head, trying to close the door.
"He no live here! He no live here! I know him not!"
"Where is he?"
"He move! I know not, I know not!" She sheltered a bunch of children behind her as the door gave way. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough.
He raised the wand. She screamed, Miranda screamed.
Downstairs, Ron and Hermione jumped up from their meal, they'd heard Miranda scream and then Harry had started shouting. They sounded like they were being attacked. Hermione banged on the bathroom door, "Harry! Harry! What's going on? Miranda!" It was quiet inside the bathroom, and that worried them even more.
Ron broke the latch on the door with his shoulder, and they both tumbled in.
Miranda was on the floor in Harry's arms, wet, sobbing like a terrified child, and Harry just rocked with her in his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Harry whispered.
Miranda didn't say anything, and Hermione just knelt next to them, "Harry, what happened?" He didn't say anything, "Harry, please, tell us what happened. Did you have another vision of Him? Please don't insult our intelligence. Are you two okay?"
"Fine, we've just seen Voldemort murdering a woman. By now he's probably killed her whole family. And he didn't need to. It was Cedric all over again, they were just there..." He snapped, brushing Miranda's hair from her wet, tear stained face, "And you were there, I felt you."
Miranda turned her face into his shirt, looking at the others was too much. She'd felt her brother, instead of just seeing him do those things. It was different, and she couldn't shake the image of that poor woman out of her mind. And the children, they were dead too, just because they were there.
"Harry, you aren't supposed to let this happen anymore! It's dangerous, Dumbledore thought so. What good is it to watch him kill and torture? How can it possibly help?" Hermione barked.
"Because it means I know what he's doing." He replied, lifting Miranda off the ground, moving past the others to take her to her room. There was a reason he'd never told Ron and Hermione exactly what he saw, but Miranda, she'd seen it now, the evil. She kept getting hurt because of him. First with what Remus did that had left her with a headache for almost a week, and now she was so terrified she couldn't even speak.
"So you're not even trying to shut him out?" Hermione yelled, following him, Ron close behind.
"I can't, Hermione, and I've tried. I really have, it's just... I'm just lousy at it." He put Miranda on her bed and covered her with a quilt.
"You never really tried!" Hermione said hotly, "I don't get it, Harry- do you like having this special connection or relationship or- what- whatever-"
She faltered under the look he gave her when he stood up, "Like it? Would you like it?"
She stepped away, "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
He pushed past her and stood by the door till they exited and he could close the door to give Miranda some privacy. He kept his back to the door so he could pretend he was protecting her from something. "I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he's most dangerous. But I'm going to use it. This is my choice, nobody else's. I want to know why he's after Gregorovitch, he's a foreign wandmaker, but I know he's got Olivander. He must not know what my wand did when he was chasing me, so he's going after someone else who might know."
Hermione slipped into exasperation, "Harry, you keep talking about what your wand did, but you made it happen! Why are you so determined not to take responsibility for your own power?"
"Because I know it wasn't me! And so does he, Hermione! We both know what really happened!" They glared at each other. "Drop it, It's up to him. And if we're going to the Ministry tomorrow, don't you reckon we should go over the plan?" Hermione let it rest and she and Ron headed down the stairs.
Harry went back into Miranda's room, and looked at Miranda, still quivering on her bed. He'd done that to her. Feeling dreadful, he sat next to her so he could see her tear stained face, "Are you alright?"
She nodded slowly, clutching the quilt he'd covered her with tightly to her chest, "I'll be okay. I just...don't understand how someone could do something so terrible to innocent children and their mother." She looked up at his face, "I'm sorry you have to see things like that, you shouldn't have to."
He nodded, "I have to though, I have to watch him, I have to know where he is."
"I know." Miranda pulled at her still damp hair with her fingers and sat up, wiping her face with the back of her hands, "I understand."
"You do?" Harry asked.
Miranda smiled at him, sure the expression didn't reach her eyes, "Be careful tomorrow, won't you?"
He smiled at her, "I will, we need to go over the plans again, but you should rest. Think this time took more out of you than it did me. If you want though, can I say goodbye in the morning?"
Miranda shook her head, looking away from his green eyes, "I'd rather you didn't. If you all are adamant on leaving me here, I'd rather not make a big scene about seeing you off."
He sighed, disappointed but too tired to fight with her, "Okay, sleep well than, I'm sorry you had to see what I saw tonight." She looked down at her scarred hand. Harry covered the hand with his own, and gave it a tight squeeze.
That wasn't enough for Miranda. Before he knew what was happening, she had thrown her arms around his neck and buried her face in the side of his neck, kneeling next to him on the bed. She sat back on her heels a split second later, and looked up at him through her thick lashes, "Goodnight, Harry."
Dazed, he nodded, "Night Miranda." He suddenly couldn't get away from her quick enough, and spent until very late that night with Hermione and Ron, studying their plan, nearly memorizing it word for word. They would do it tomorrow, they would start to defeat Voldemort by finding and destroying the Horcruxes.
Voldemort was thrilled, Draco had finally found the remains he'd requested, and brought them and the mediwizard to the Manor. Just days before he was due back at Hogwarts too. How convenient for him.
The wizard he brought with him was a scared, balding, rotund man. Draco shoved him to his feet in front of the Dark Lord, "The mediwizard, and the woman's bones, as you requested, my lord." He nodded the boy away and he practically ran from the room.
"You know who I am, no?" He asked the trembling man who reminded him of Peter.
"Yes, you are the Dark Lord." The man said, keeping his head down, "Are you going to kill me?"
"Only if you prove dis-useful."
The man eyed the plain wooden coffin next to him, "I hope I can be of use."
"I want to know everything you can tell me about this body." He said, cutting out all of the blubbering that the man was sure to try for his life.
The man looked relieved to have been given a task and sat to pulling the top of the coffin off. He looked at the bones appraisingly, "Female, approximately twenty years of age. Judging by the stage of decomposition, the remains are over fifty years old. What are you looking for, exactly?" The man paused, "M-my lord?"
"Did she have children?"
The man looked back at the bones, "Yes, my lord, she died shortly after, her pelvic bone shows no signs of remodel…"
"How many?"
"Excuse me? How many? Children?" The man laughed, "I could only find that out if I had my wand back. There are detailed spells I could cast."
Voldemort thrust the man's wand at him, "Be aware, if you try to run, you will be killed most painfully. Do as you must."
The man gulped, "Yes, my lord."
He began a weaving of spells over the bones, pausing to let them fall into place over them. "Two, my lord. She had two children at the same time, shortly before her death, twins. One a boy-"
"And the other a girl." Voldemort finished, smiling to himself.
"Yes, my lord, a girl. May I ask, how did you know?"
"No, you may not ask." Voldemort said, pointing his wand at the man, "Avada Kedavra!" The man slumped to the ground, "And you shall not know." So, the girl was his sister, Tom had hidden things from him. "Tom, did you think you could hide her from me forever?" Voldemort asked as he delved in to the recesses of his mind, and Malfoy Manor faded away.
It was a dark room, lit only by a glowing light in the center, the space black and unending. It was imaginary, of course, he controlled the body, and this space held all that was left of the other. It was their room, and covering those black walls was dried blood. Thomas Marvolo Riddle was standing in the corner, holding a broken arm close to his body, from the last assault Voldemort had taken upon him. A spiteful sneer graced his handsome young face, "For as long as I could, you bastard."
Voldemort laughed, and it shook the air around them. "Still so defiant, Tom, even after all the years we've been together. I had thought we would become friends, you and I. I had such high hopes. But still, you keep things from me."
"I won't let you hurt her." The boy growled.
"Who says I'm going to hurt her?" Voldemort said, with faux innocence on his face.
"I know you. She's too strong though, she always was. You'll never take her." Voldemort slammed the boy into a wall.
"That's the funny thing, Tommy boy, I have all of your memories up until when you gave yourself to me, but I have none of her. Tell me, how is that?"
"Never." Tom growled, and Voldemort punched him in the face.
"Would you like to try that again, Tom?"
Tom spit blood out of his mouth onto the black floors, with a maniacal laugh, "You were too busy with your precious Nazi's. You left Gellert alone for too long. He was smarter than I am."
Voldemort winced, "I never could control him, he was too powerful. Adolf, now he was a fun toy to play with." He pat Tom on the cheek, "Not nearly as fun as you though. I could only influence Gellert. I had him search you out. I'm guessing he found both you and your sister." Tom's silence was answer enough, and his knowledge of Gellert filled in the rest. "He took her and Obliviated you, didn't he?" The snake-man cursed under his breath, "I knew I should have spent more time with him. The muggle was just too easy to corrupt. Gellert must have subconsciously wanted to find me a host so I would leave him and his Greater Good Albus alone, and I fell for it. I never could get into his thick skull. Clever, clever boy."
He smiled at Tom, "That's why it's so hard to find a good host, they have to be young or they're too tough. You, you, my boy, were easy prey. Gellert did half the work for me, made you weak, hateful and alone. I'll give the old boy that. But he took the girl." He stepped away from the manifestation of his body's original soul, the one piece he couldn't seem to get rid of. "I'll have to go visit him. Perhaps he can help me."
The creature that called himself Voldemort disappeared, returning to the real world, leaving a bleeding Tom alone. "I can't let him hurt her." He mumbled to himself. "Why did I do this?"
When the Dark Lord had first come to him at Hogwarts, he had been so alone, and had just wanted it all to go away. For years, the dark entity had guided him through life, helped him find the 'truth' of his parents, and broken him. When he had wished it all away, when he had tried to take his own life, the Thing had taken his body over. This void had been his home since then, his body stuck doing that creature's bidding. For decades, Tom had been forced to watch his body destroy lives, but that had all changed when Voldemort had gone after the Potters. When the spell had back fired, and Tom's original body had been obliterated, his memories of his sister had been restored. As a loose spirit, he had hidden from Voldemort for years, but he had found him anyway and drug him back into this monster of a body.
Tom had thought Harry had freed him, had blessed the infant for setting him free from his prison, had mourned Lilly Potter's sacrifice. That night in the graveyard, Tom had seen himself in Harry Potter, but he knew the boy had people where Tom had had none, he would be okay. With Voldemort out of his head, memories of Miranda had flooded his mind, and when he'd been forced back in that body with Voldemort, he had made her his most guarded secret.
Already, he could tell that Voldemort was going to step the torture back up. The black void got smaller and smaller until it was around him like a coffin, the air warm and thin. He was used to this. It's what Voldemort did to him when he was angry at him, boxed him up. Tom just used it as time to feel for Miranda. He was getting better at it, and he'd started pulling her to him in her sleep because she'd been reaching for him too. They could never see each other, but Tom always knew she was there and hid her from Voldemort. He could feel her emotions, she was worried, but still felt in control. He could stand this, as long as she was okay, as long as Voldemort couldn't get his hands on her. He would rather them both die in this snake thing than let Miranda get hurt.
So I just want to address a couple things here. First, according to Pottermore, Walburga was about two years older than Tom Riddle, and Cygnus was several years younger than Tom. I had a guest reviewer say that Cygnus and Tom were the same age, but they are not! Tom is closer to Walburga's age than Cygnus'. Second, I'm changing some things from the original version, but some are staying the same. I will say: I adore Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them...
Hope you all enjoyed this installment! Let me know what you think!
-Jenn