Excentryke's Musings

The Dark Lord’s Daughter

Part the Second

Winter hols came quickly once Harry could focus on his studies and wasn’t looking over his shoulder in case Jonathan or one of his cronies was lurking around a corner.  It was an entirely new existence in Slytherin.  Harry had always been somewhat respected in the House.  His father was an Auror and no one wanted to cross him.  Now, however, he was going with Magnolia Riddle, and no one wanted to insult him or get on his bad side.  He was nearly as popular as Draco Malfoy, which was a little surreal.

On the train ride back he was sitting in a compartment with Magnolia, Theodore, Lacerta Malfoy, and Genevieve Selwyn.  Draco Malfoy was doing rounds as he was fifth year prefect. 

The door slid open to reveal Harry’s brother along with the usual suspects.

Harry just raised an eyebrow at him.  “Come for more?” he asked pleasantly.

“I know it’s not you, you freak,” Jonathan sniveled back.  He had a black eye from the last time he went against a Ravenclaw upper year.  It seemed like magic couldn’t heal everything.  “And no one’s going to help you when we’re home.”

“Are you sure about that?” Magnolia asked, not even looking up from the book she was reading.  “Godric’s Hollow, after all, is a partial wizarding settlement.  The Potters aren’t the only wizards there.”

Jonathan looked over at her, taking in her.  “Who are you, anyway?”

Magnolia glanced up at him with her ocean blue eyes and he startled.  She turned back to her book.  “I see you already know who I am.”

“That’s not possible—the freak—” Jonathan stuttered.

“Harrogate,” Magnolia corrected, “is a pureblood wizard of the purest lineage.  Unlike yourself.  Your mother is a Mudblood, isn’t she?”  Magnolia glanced up again and took him in.  “I see your black eye only improves your looks.”

“Why you little—” but McLaggen held him back.

“You know who they say her father is,” McLaggen whispered just loud enough for the entire compartment to hear.  “It’s not worth it.”

“I defeated her father,” Jonathan argued.  This surprised Harry, though he knew to keep his face impassive.

“Did you though?” Magnolia asked him.  “Did Father really disappear that night like you lot claim or did he just go underground for two years and gather his forces?”  She sneered at him.  “You may withdraw.”  She flicked her hand at him.

Jonathan glared at her.

“Come on,” McLaggen urged.  “Best to just go.”

Jonathan wasn’t having it though.  Looking at Harry, he sneered, “Freak—just you—”

“—wait, yes, yes, I know,” Harry agreed offhandedly.  What Jonathan didn’t know was he wasn’t going home for Christmas.  He was going to Riddle House.  Lord Marvolo and Lady Aloysia had invited him, and he had gladly accepted.  It was a way to get away from Jonathan.  It was a way to avoid Lily.  It was also a way to get closer to Mother.

No one would miss him except his dad.

As soon as Jonathan was gone, he and Magnolia exchanged a look.  He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Nott, Genevieve,” Magnolia commanded because Magnolia rarely ever asked anyone for anything, “I need a moment with my intended.—Lacerta,” the younger Malfoy looked up, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“We’ll be across the hall,” Selwyn decided, picking up her Daily Prophet and looking over at Theodore.  “I think there are other Slytherins about our year.”

Theodore clapped Harry on the shoulder on his way out, but didn’t say anything.  Lacerta Malfoy exchanged a glance with her Riddle cousin and then left with the others.

When Harry had originally told Theo he was going to marry Magnolia, Theodore hadn’t even asked why.  He had only said Harry was the luckiest bloke in wizardom and most wizards would give both their eyes for such a match.  Harry had been confused, although his reaction had confirmed what Magnolia herself had said.

When they were alone, Harry murmured, “Jonathan makes it sound like your father’s You-Know-Who.”

“James Potter knows,” was all she said in answer.

Harry looked up in shock.  “How can you possibly know that?”

“He’s an Auror, isn’t he?  He knows what the Dark Lord looks like.  He would know the Dark Lord on sight and yet he met with Father to gain custody of you.  He saw Father again the night that Potter became scarface.  Your dad knows who Father is, who the Gaunts are.”  She shrugged.  “Cousin Maia would never have concealed it from him if she meant to run away with him.  It would have been living a lie otherwise.—I’m sure he’s guessed who I am.”

“He didn’t tell me when I asked him about it.”

“Were you alone?” Magnolia inquired.

Harry slumped back into his seat.

“I make my point.—I’ve been trying to get you alone so you would know before you came back to Riddle House.  I thought you should know before you came home with us.—Death Eaters might be about.”

“Mighty decent of you,” Harry griped.  He ran a hand down his face.  “My uncle is the Dark Lord and my intended is his daughter.  I don’t suppose it can get more Slytherin than that.”

“No,” Magnolia agreed.  She looked him over.  “You’re not going to hyperventilate on me?  Draco thinks you’re going to hyperventilate.”

“I’m not going to hyperventilate,” he promised.  “I already knew you were Death Eater royalty.—Now I know why the Dark Lord didn’t try to kill me that Halloween night all those years ago.”

“Now you know,” Magnolia agreed.  “Father would never harm Gaunt blood.  You’re his great-nephew.”

When they went to go change out of their robes, they collected Theodore, Selwyn, and Lacerta Malfoy back, and Draco Malfoy eventually rejoined their carriage.  When they finally arrived at Platform 9¾, Harry disembarked with Magnolia and the Malfoys, his trunk and owl cage with him, and was met by a beautiful witch with platinum blonde hair in violet robes. 

“Magnolia,” she greeted, sweeping Magnolia into a hug.  “How you’ve grown!”

The mother and daughter couldn’t look more different.  Where Lady Aloysia was fair and petite, Magnolia was tall and dark.  Lady Aloysia favored more of her nephew, Draco Malfoy, whose cheek she patted before sending him toward an elegantly dressed wizard who looked very much like her.

“And this must be Harrogate,” Lady Aloysia decided, coming up to Harry.  “My, you have Maia’s eyes, I see.”

“Lady Aloysia,” he greeted, picking up her hand and letting it hover two inches beneath his lips before letting it go in a pureblood nicety.

“And such wonderful manners,” she complimented.  “We are so pleased to have you at Riddle House this Yule.  It’s so wonderful to have young people about.”  She patted his cheek affectionately.  “I had always hoped to have you with us at Riddle House, but unfortunately Marvolo had other ideas.  However, it was undoubtedly for the best.”  A slight shadow crossed her eyes.  Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Shall we go, darling?—or did your father wish to speak to me, Harrogate?”  She turned and looked about the station and Harry looked down the row to see his dad and Lily with his brother and sister.

James looked up and made a motion.

“I think he’s coming over,” Harry apologized.  At least his dad wasn’t in Auror robes. 

After whispering something to Lily, James left the rest of the Potter family and approached them from down the platform.  James came up to Harry and ruffled his hair before picking up Lady Aloysia’s hand and letting it rest beneath his lips by about two inches before releasing it.  “You must be Uncle Marvolo’s wife,” he greeted.  “I remember when Maia attended your wedding.  She was a bridesmaid if I recall.”

“Yes, Auror Potter,” Lady Aloysia agreed with a smile.  “She was so lovely in sky blue.  It was a pity you could not attend.”  She glanced over his shoulder toward Lily and his other children.  “Have you met my daughter, Lady Magnolia?”

“Lady Magnolia,” James greeted, taking her hand gently and lifting it up.  “I see you have the Gaunt eyes.  You must make your father proud.”

“She is his undoubted heir,” Lady Aloysia agreed.  “We are both so happy to rejoin the Gaunt lines together—Merope and Morfin.”

“I have not seen the family tree,” James confessed, seeming a little uncomfortable.

“Maia didn’t show it to you?  We will have to change that,” Lady Aloysia promised.  “Perhaps you would like to come and pick it up the night before the Winter holiday ends?”  She glanced over at Harry and her daughter then.  “I’ll send these two to the pub in Little Hangleton to escort you to the Manor.  I’m sure you remember your way to Little Hangleton.”

“I certainly do.  Thank you, milady.  Seven o’clock?”

“The perfect time.  We can serve you dinner if your—wife,” the word was said carefully, though Harry could sense a hint of derision in it, “will not miss you?”

James didn’t even bother to look over at Lily.  “I will tell her I have work.  She doesn’t question my long hours.”

“I see you don’t wear a vined ring,” Lady Aloysia noticed carefully.

“I am entirely devoted to Lady Maia,” he promised, leaning in.  “You need not worry on that score.”

She made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat.  Running her hand over her daughter’s braids, Lady Aloysia looked over at Harry.  “Say ‘goodbye’ to your father, Harrogate.  You’ll see him in two weeks, but still.”

James turned to his middle son and chuffed him on the chin.  “Ambitious, are we?” he teased.

“I find I am ambitious against my own better judgement,” he agreed.

“Your mother would be so proud,” James comforted, wrapping him in a one-armed hug.  He squeezed him and then let go, their eyes connecting, hazel to ocean blue.  “You are going to your ancestral home.  You are where you’re supposed to be,” James told him solemnly.  “I don’t want you spying for me.  You’re not there for that.”

“I know, Dad,” Harry said a little sadly.  “What happens in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin.”

“Exactly,” James agreed.  With one last nod of his head to Lady Aloysia and Magnolia, he turned and returned to his waiting family.  If Harry was any judge, Lily was not only impatient, but definitely unhappy.

“I wouldn’t want to be your father tonight,” Magnolia commented, following his line of sight.

“Neither would I,” Harry agreed.  “It must be odd to be married to a man who is in love with someone else.”

“It’s her own fault for marrying a pureblood,” Magnolia reasoned.  She then turned to Harry and took his arm as she often did.  Although Harry was quite tall, Magnolia was also tall and came up to just three inches shorter than him.  Their eyes were nearly level.  Harry just had to tip his head ever so slightly to look into her eyes.  Magnolia was often standing so close to him that their noses would often brush each other.  It was a little startling to Harry, actually, having her so close.

“Shall we, my dears?” Lady Aloysia asked them as she waved her wand and their trunks picked themselves up to follow them.

They were taking an automobile that was better suited to a Lord Peter Wimsey novel.  It even had a chauffeur.  The drive to Yorkshire should have taken hours, but there seemed to be magical portals that took them from one part of the A1 to another, and they arrived in Little Hangleton in just over an hour.

Harry was sitting up front with the driver, and when they began to drive out of the small town, he felt someone tap his shoulder.

He turned around and saw that Magnolia was holding out a notecard to him.

On it he read, “Harrogate Gaunt Potter is invited to Riddle House from Saturday, December 23, 1995 to Saturday, January 6, 1996.”  He blinked and then passed it back.

The gardens were incredible.  They were clearly dormant as it was Winter, but they sprawled across the grounds in neat beds that would obviously bloom into colors in Spring and Summer.

“These belong to your mother,” Lady Aloysia told Harrogate as they walked up toward the imposing house.  “She has always enjoyed her flowers.  When your father married Lily Potter, she tore up all the lilies, much to my husband’s displeasure as I understand it.”  She gave him a long look.  “Maia naturally tends to them despite it being Winter.”

“Really, Mama?” Magnolia asked as she let go of Harry’s arm and walked forward.  “I’ve never seen her on the grounds.”

“You’re not meant to,” Lady Aloysia told both of them.  She tapped the side of her nose.  “But not a word to your father, Magnolia.”

“Of course not,” Magnolia agreed, sneaking a glance over her shoulder to Harry, which clearly meant that they would talk about it later.

The house was warm and filled with people.  In the entry hall their trunks were whisked away undoubtedly by house elves and their cloaks were put away.  Harry was dressed in a fashion he knew Lily would disapprove of if she ever saw.  He had an entire closet Lily had never seen.  Jonathan and even Violet had undoubtedly reported on it, but for most of Hols his pureblood black remained folded up in the bottom of his trunk.  James encouraged him dressing like a fashionable pureblood student and even gave him a small allowance to support it, but even he had never seen Harry dressed in his pureblood clothing.

Harry was a column of black as he stood in the entryway.  His messy black hair had been combed back with Wagner’s Wizarding Pomade.  His rectangular black glasses frames were perched on his nose but did nothing to hide his ocean blue eyes.  He was wearing a black turtleneck made of light cotton, a black silk tie embroidered with Chinese dragons was tied in a double Windsor knot around his neck.  He wore fingerless gloves on his hands.  If he had been the eldest son, he would be wearing the Potter heir’s ring, but Jonathan had it—not that he wore it.  As it was Hols, Harry completed his outfit with black corduroys, black socks, and black oxfords. 

Magnolia was dressed just as elegantly and certainly more expensively.  Her chestnut hair was braided into three long braids and then roped up around her face to create an elegant hairstyle.  Pureblood witches never wore their hair down except around their families.  As Magnolia’s intended, Harry knew he could see her hair down, but he hadn’t yet.  She was wearing an Illyria dress of black that swished to her knees and then patterned black tights and mary janes.  Her sleeves came down to her wrists and then hooked to her index fingers. 

Harry knew they made quite the pair, both tall, both dark, both with the same ocean blue eyes, both dressed in pureblood black.

“You must be hungry, dears,” Lady Aloysia was now saying as she led them into the house where there were several wizards passing through the hallways. They were all wearing brightly colored robes, which flashed before Harry’s gaze.

“We should see Father first,” Magnolia suggested as she walked on Harry’s arm, running a hand down it in comfort.  “We shouldn’t leave Harrogate in suspense.”

“No, perhaps not,” Lady Aloysia agreed, looking him over.  “He’s probably in conference, but I doubt he’d mind.”

They walked down the hall past several doors until they came to a double door that was opened for them as if by magic.

The first thing Harry noticed was there was a roaring fire in the fireplace and above it hung a portrait of a thin and gaunt witch with dirty blonde hair and ocean blue eyes.  She was undoubtedly a Gaunt.

“Grandmother Merope,” Magnolia whispered in his ear when she noticed where he was looking.  “Her father Marvolo never even gave her a wand.”

Harry looked at her in shock, but she only nodded at his unasked question.

There was a huddle of wizards in the center of the room, all clustered around a table.  None of them seemed to have noticed that any of them had come in until Magnolia called out, “Father,” and released Harry’s arm to approach the clump of wizards who had now looked up.

The wizards were various ages.  Some were Harry’s dad’s age.  Some were much older.  One Harry even recognized as a former Slytherin student from a couple years earlier. 

The wizard, though, Magnolia was approaching was a tall man with slitted eyes and a smoothed in nose and a serpentine face.  He also positively had no hair on his head.  Dressed elegantly in black, he was the most unearthly man Harry had ever seen.

“Magnolia,” the Dark Lord greeted, picking up his daughter’s hand and letting it hover beneath his lips before releasing it.  “How was term, darling?”

Harry looked between them.  They were certainly both tall, both pale, and the Dark Lord’s eyes seemed to be an ocean blue if Harry squinted, but other than that Harry never would have guessed the Dark Lord was a Gaunt.  He might not have even known that the Dark Lord was human if he hadn’t been told.

“Edifying as always,” Magnolia told him with a smile.  “But I brought someone for you.”  She indicated Harry who carefully stepped forward and let nothing show on his face.  “You remember your great-nephew, Harrogate?”

The Dark Lord’s attention was immediately focused on him, and Harry could feel the full weight of it heavy on his shoulders.

Dropping Magnolia’s hand, the Dark Lord approached him and took Harry’s chin between his spindly fingers.  “You have much of your father in you,” the Dark Lord opined in a high, nasally voice.  “You have Maia’s eyes, however.”  He released Harry.  “Well met, Harrogate.  You are welcome in my home.”

Fighting the urge to clear his throat, Harry looked the Dark Lord directly in the eyes.  Yes, they were an ocean blue, he thought so.  “Thank you, Uncle Marvolo,” he said boldly.  “I understand I might have been born here.”

“Indeed,” he agreed disinterestedly.  “It is right that you have returned.”  The Dark Lord turned back to his daughter.  “I’m busy, darling.  Perhaps you should feed your intended or perhaps show him to his rooms.”

“Of course, Father,” she agreed.  “I just wanted to greet you first.”

“I’m always happy to see you,” he confirmed, going back to the table and the map that was strewn across it.  “I will see you tomorrow.”

With that, Magnolia came back to Harry’s side, took his arm, and gently urged him out.  Harry noticed that the Dark Lord was looking at a map of the West Country, but he knew he had no one to tell.  Harry was entirely neutral in this conflict.  Jonathan had forced him to be neutral long before he had been sorted into Slytherin.

The doors closed behind them where Lady Aloysia was waiting for them. 

“Well, dears.  He seemed to like you, Harrogate, which is a lot more than I can say for most school aged children.”

“Father only noticed that Draco existed when he made Prefect, and Father’s his godfather,” Magnolia put in with a laugh. 

“Sirius Black is my godfather,” Harry informed Magnolia as they walked downstairs toward what was undoubtedly a kitchen.  “He died in the war.”

“Regulus Black,” Lady Aloysia noted, “was a great friend of Maia’s.  He died in the war as well, but I remember those two were thick of thieves with Barty Crouch, Jr. and Apricot—well, Madam Crouch.”  She laughed.

Harry looked at her.  “The Minister for Magic’s son?”

“Yes,” Magnolia agreed as they walked into a warm kitchen.  “Barty is often here.”

“You call him ‘Barty’?” And he was a Death Eater?

“You will, too,” Magnolia promised with a smile.  “Now, what would you like to eat?”

His rooms overlooked the back gardens.  Lady Aloysia thought he would like it better.  Harry did, of course.  After he had retired for the evening, he opened up all the windows and looked out over the sleeping gardens and imagined his mother among the flowers.

If Magnolia and Draco Malfoy were to be believed, Mother was in the North Tower, but Harry knew better than to try to break in his first night.  Half past one, when he was staring down at the garden, he thought he saw a light, as if from the tip of a wand. 

He squinted.

Hadn’t everyone gone home already?

Harry took a lamp and opened his door, only to find a house elf sitting on a small stool directly outside his door.  “Do you needs anything, Little Gaunt?” it squeaked.

He seemed to have a chaperone.

“N-no,” he told the house elf.  “Thank you.”

He closed the door and leaned against the back of it. 

Going back to the window, he watched the light in the garden until it retreated back into a side door and disappeared.  He imagined his mother being so close and yet so far away—but in the end he climbed into bed and dreamt of dancing with Magnolia in his arms.

For Christmas Harry received a drawing of his mother in a frame.  She was sitting in the garden with a hound, scratching the dog’s head every few minutes while trying to read a book.  Her hair seemed to be pale in the sunshine, her eyes deep and vast.  His mother was beautiful, and Harry thanked his Great Uncle and Aunt for such a special gift.

The Dark Lord also gave him the Gaunt Heir ring, which hadn’t been worn since his grandfather Mordecai had died.  It was gold with the head of a wild boar on it.  Harry carefully put it on his right pinkie ring, where he had seen other students at Hogwarts wear theirs, and Magnolia said it looked well on his hand.

On the fifth day it snowed, and Harry and Magnolia went out and had a snowball fight.  Magnolia built a fort and Harry bombarded it with snowballs.  In the end he stormed the keep and grabbed her, pulling her down and rolling with her in the snow.  They were a heap of legs and arms, breathing and laughing.  They were so close that Harry could see Magnolia’s eyelashes.  There was a flicker above her eye but it must have been the light reflecting off the snow.

“When are you getting your vined ring?” she asked when he rolled away instead of kissing her, like she wanted him to.

Purebloods never kissed until marriage.  It was anathema. 

If a pureblood could prove his lineage back six generations, he would go to The Wicked Stepmother and get a membership card, regardless of his politics in the War.  Then he would be able to get a vined ring, which would ensure his fidelity to his spouse, even if he was unmarried.

James Potter didn’t wear a vined ring.  That was how he had been able to date a Muggleborn and snog Lily Evans in closets during their seventh year.  It had also been how he was able to have an affair with Maia Gaunt without punishment.

—But what had happened to Maia when she betrayed her fidelity to her future husband, even if James was meant to be that future husband?  If she had worn a vined ring, and Harry was positive as Sacred Twenty-Eight she would have, she should have been incapable of having an affair with a married man, let alone conceive and carry a child to term.

Magnolia looked over at him over her hot chocolate later that day when the subject was brought up again.

“I’m not entirely certain I can afford one,” Harry admitted, blushing slightly.  “My father gives me enough for my wardrobe, but Lily would notice if three hundred galleons went missing.”

“The Pumpkin Carriage sells gently used vined rings,” she urged carefully.  “We can go and look tomorrow or the next day.  We can get a price point for you.”

“Do you think?” Harry asked carefully.

She reached forward and touched the back of his hand.  “There’s nothing shameful in it as a second son.”

“My elder brother is a half-blood,” he reminded her, playing with his Gaunt heir ring on his finger.

“Well, yes,” she agreed with a laugh.  “But that’s not your fault.”

They dissolved into giggles, leaning forward, her hands and face brushing his.  Harry looked up and realized just how beautiful Magnolia was in an ordinary sort of way.  With her ocean blue eyes in her delicate face, she was possibly pretty.  He paused and held her gaze and she stilled, only to look back at him.

Then, as if realizing, they both looked away.

“We need to get vined rings,” Magnolia determined.  “I think I must wait until I’m sixteen, which means Christmas hols my sixth year, but you just have to wait until this summer.  We can go with Draco, if you want.”

Harry paused.  “Do you think Dad will be—angry at me?”

“How can he be?” Magnolia reasoned.  “He did say he was devoted to Cousin Maia.  He considers himself bound to her and stuck in a marriage to a—” she paused “—well, you know.”  Magnolia shrugged.

“I know what Lily is,” he argued.

“You’ve never said it.”

“I try not to.”

“Then I shan’t,” she agreed, reaching out and covering his hand with hers.  The familiarity felt wrong.  “I’ll talk to Mama and we’ll see about going and seeing about it.  Maybe Father knows something about Cousin Maia’s dowry that might help.”

“I don’t want to steal my mother’s money,” Harry argued emphatically.

“Even if it’s legally your trust fund?”  She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.  He couldn’t answer her.  “That’s what I thought.”

Harry looked at her but said nothing else.  They continued to drink their hot chocolate in companionable silence, a plan made between them.  Now Harry just had to make it to the garden at night when the light was shining.  His father was a Marauder, however.  Harry had a plan or two slipped up his sleeve.