Excentryke's Musings

The Dark Lord’s Daughter

Part the Tenth

Harry didn’t make it back to Riddle House until late that night.  Magnolia was waiting up for him, a confused look on her face.  “Is everything all right?  I was afraid you were taken!”  Her dark blue eyes flashed in worry and she touched his face, assuring herself that he was there with her.

Harry sighed and pulled her into his arms, reminding himself they were bound together by word if not marriage.  “Nothing to worry about.  It was Violet.”

“Did she take more convincing than you thought?  Did she not take the heritage potion?”  Magnolia’s voice was tinged with uncertainty.  “Is she actually James Potter’s child?”

“No,” Harry told her carefully.  “She is not James Potter’s child.”

Magnolia gasped.  “What pureblood did Lily—that’s line theft!”

“It is,” Harry agreed.  “Line theft and conspiracy to commit kidnapping.”  He breathed out through his nose.  “I don’t want to be Lily Potter right now.”

“Who was it then?  Was it Professor Snape?”

“Yes,” Harry told her carefully.  “Her eyes are actually Prince eyes, like Draco guessed.”

“Astounding.  I sat across from her at your birthday party and I never even saw it.”

Harry pulled away from her and led her down the hall, toward the living room with a fire still going in the grate.  “That’s because none of us were looking for it.”

“What is it about Lily that had her ensnare two purebloods?  How could they each forget themselves in her presence?” Magnolia wondered. 

That was a very good question, and a question Harry didn’t have the answer to. 

“Violet’s with Professor Snape now.  They must be at Hogwarts,” Harry mused.  He pulled Magnolia down to sit beside him on a loveseat and just looked into the flames, wondering at the truths they held.

“Professor Snape doesn’t live at Hogwarts when it’s not in session,” Magnolia informed him.  “He has a home at Spinner’s End.  I’ve been there once or twice when I was small.”

“It must be where he and Lily have their affair,” Harry pondered.  “They certainly don’t have it at Hogwarts.”

“You know,” Magnolia murmured, looking up at him with her large, dark blue eyes.  “Although James and Lily aren’t legally married, this is grounds for a divorce.  Lily told James that Violet was his child; she gave Violet the Potter name.  James could sue her for line theft as well.”

“The whole family is falling apart,” Harry murmured.  “Jonathan is awaiting trial—”

“He’s not family,” Magnolia put in.

“No,” Harry agreed, “but he is a Potter.”

Magnolia was silent.  Jonathan was a Potter.  Harry and Jonathan shared that in common, although they shared little else.

“Violet is a Snape—”

“You’re a Gaunt,” Magnolia agreed.  “Two mothers, two fathers, three children—”

Harry hummed in the back of his throat.  It was all so mind boggling.

The two of them sat there, staring at the fire until the small hours of the morning, when Magnolia shook Harry awake and they stumbled up to their rooms.  Harry opened up his window and looked out at the back garden, but he didn’t see the light from his mother’s wand.  Glancing over at the clock on his bedside table, he saw it was three in the morning, and realized his mother was already back in the North Tower.  He would see her tomorrow.

Of course, James Potter had other ideas.

An owl woke Harry up the next morning, pecking at him until he got up and took receipt of the message it carried.

Harry wandered bleary-eyed down to the kitchen where he saw Magnolia putting jam on toast and drinking tea.  The owl was perched on top of his head, refusing to leave.

“Dad wants to see me,” he opened with.

“When?” she looked up with eyes as blue as his.

“Now,” Harry answered, looking down at the letter.  “He’s down in Little Hangleton.”

Magnolia poured him a cup of tea and made it up with milk the way he liked it.  He picked it up and drank it almost completely in one gulp.

“Manners, Harrogate,” she chided, but he only grimaced at her.  “I suppose you better go.”

“He’ll want to know about Violet.”

“Well,” she reasoned, “you better tell him about Violet then, shouldn’t you?”

Harry couldn’t really argue with that logic.  Stealing a bite of her toast, he walked out of the kitchen and out into the sunlight, nodding his head at the Death Eaters whom he passed.  The owl only took flight, messing up his already messy black hair, when he left the Riddle property, soaring back off toward Somerset, Harry would have to guess.

The day was sunny at least, even if there was a bit of a chill in the air, and Harry kicked a few rocks that lay in the path.

By this point, Harry was recognizable in the village, and he was greeted by a few of the townspeople, but no one questioned him when he went into the pub at what was clearly breakfast time.

James was waiting for him with a fresh teapot and two cups.

“Oh, lovely,” Harry murmured as he poured himself a cup, needing an extra little boost given how little sleep he got the night before.  “Is there breakfast?”

James made a sign to the barkeep, turning back to his son.  “Violet never came home last night.”

“Is her name still Violet?” Harry asked, genuinely curious. 

James looked at him funny.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry now looked at his dad strangely.  “You didn’t get any weird owls last night?  Lily didn’t get any weird owls?”

“What does Lily’s post have to do with anything?” James asked in exasperation.  “Look,” he said, pointing a finger down at the table, to make a point.  “Violet said she was going to visit you yesterday, but she never came home.  I’m nearly certain Uncle Marvolo wouldn’t allow a half-blood on his property, but I’m checking here first.”

Harry stared at him, taking in his dad’s messy black hair and hazel eyes.  He only looked away when a plate of sausage and eggs was placed in front of him.  “Look,” Harry said, mimicking his dad, “are you sure Lily didn’t get an owl last night?”

“Are you saying Violet wrote Lily?” James breathed through his nose.  “Lily’s locked herself in her study.  All I know is Violet went out yesterday to see you and her bed wasn’t slept in.”

Harry contemplated his eggs for a long moment before he sliced through one and took a bite, chewing.  Swallowing, he said, “I think you need to talk to Lily.”

“Why do I need to talk to Lily?” James demanded.  “She would have told me if Lily was staying over at a friend’s.”

“BecauseLilysguiltyoflinetheft,” Harry breathed as he inhaled another one of his eggs.

James blinked behind his glasses.  “Come again, Harry?”

Harry swallowed and then looked his dad directly in the eyes.  “Because Lily’s guilty of line theft.”

James stared at him, hard.  He didn’t even blink for a long moment.  Then, sitting back and running a hand down his face, he breathed, “I didn’t cheat on Maia, then.”

“You don’t even know if you cheated on Mother?”

“Lily got me drunk.”  James was now flushed red in embarrassment.  “She said—and then Violet came a month and a half early, even though she weighed half a stone.”  He breathed out through his teeth.  “Whose line did Lily steal from?  Who has Violet?”

Harry took a deep breath, hoping his courage wouldn’t fail him now.  “Professor Snape.”

James slammed his hand on the table.  “That half-blood bastard!” he seethed.

Harry blinked.  Professor Snape was a half-blood?

James took a long sip of his tea and then seemed to cool off.  “Okay, Harry.  How did this happen?”

“Well, Draco and I thought—”

“Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes, we’re cousins through Magnolia.”

“Cousins through Magnolia,” James checked.

“Aunt Aloysia is a Malfoy,” Harry explained carefully. 

James sighed and nodded.

“Well, Draco and I thought that Violet’s eyes aren’t actually green, and that it would be better if Violet were illegitimate instead of me.  If Violet had a different father—and if we could somehow prove you married Mother with your wedding to Lily being an illegal Muggle ceremony—”

“Yes, yes, I get the picture,” James agreed.  “So you goaded your sister into what?  Blood magic?”

Harry shrugged.  He cut into his sausage.

“And her father came out as Severus Snape.  Violet felt betrayed, you notified him, he took Violet, and he probably sued for line theft and Mother Magic knows what else.”  James looked absolutely shattered.

Harry looked at his dad carefully.  “You seem to be taking this somewhat better than I thought you would be.”

“I’ve been aware of Lily’s—infidelities—for several years now.  I’m not surprised it started back in 1980.”

“You kept the family together even though Lily was,” Harry swallowed, pushing down the word, “with Professor Snape?”

“There were Jonathan and Violet to consider,” James explained away, like he always did.

“But Violet doesn’t even look like you.  Her eyes aren’t even green like Lily’s.  Her hair’s not even auburn.  Surely you must have wondered—”

James looked at him sadly.

“You can’t have loved Jonathan and Jonathan alone that much to keep the family together,” Harry spit out.  “What of me?  Jonathan cursed me and hit me every chance he got—and I know you knew.  What of Violet—with her father out there somewhere?  Did you know she cursed me, too?”

“Violet would never—”

“But she did,” Harry told him, straight out, “as soon as she got her wand.  Jonathan taught her alohamora so she could sneak into my room at night and hit me with a broom.”

James looked devastated. 

“Your own child,” Harry whispered, looking down at his plate, empty except for his buttered toast.  His stomach suddenly turned.  He was no longer hungry.  “What does this mean now?  Will there finally be divorce?”

“Yes, Harry.  I think there will finally be divorce.”

“I don’t think Mother will see you,” Harry informed him, thinking of Maia Gaunt.  She was too self-conscious about her blackened veins.  “Has she written you at all?”

“Just to say how proud she is of you,” James admitted.  “How you’ve grown into the wizard she’d always hoped you’d become.”

“At least I make one of my parents happy,” Harry sighed, finishing up his tea and standing.  “You should write to Professor Snape to confirm that Violet’s there.  I saw her go, but for your own peace of mind.”

James stood and looked at his son awkwardly.  “It’s not that I’m not proud of you—”

“It’s just I’m not a Gryffindor like Jonathan?  I don’t prank like Jonathan?  I don’t want to be an auror like Jonathan?  I’m not good with the witches like Jonathan?”

“I never said that,” James refuted, reaching out for his son, but Harry stepped away quickly. 

“No, but I think you thought it, at least once or twice,” Harry said, turning his dark blue gaze up to his father.  He was nearly as tall as him and he wasn’t done growing yet.  It must be the Gaunt height.  Uncle Marvolo was certainly tall, as was Magnolia.  His mother was quite tall, too, come to think of it.

“I love you just the way you are,” James murmured, but Harry no longer believed him. 

Taking one last look at his dad, he turned and walked out of the pub, moving through the town and back up to Riddle House.  It was buzzing with activity and when Harry closed the front door behind him, he went to go find the Dark Lord.

He was in the room with the portrait of Great-Aunt Merope with several wizards around him.  Some were clustered around a map while others were clearly conversing.  Making a decision, Harry went up to the Dark Lord and looked into his ocean blue slits of eyes.

“I’ve just been to see my dad.”

“How is Auror Potter?” the Dark Lord inquired, tilting his head slightly to the side in question.

“He still cares about Jonathan more than me even though he’s a rapist,” Harry told him.  “He cares about Violet more, even though she’s actually Professor Snape’s daughter.”

This certainly seemed to be news to the Dark Lord.

Harry took a deep breath.  “If there’s anything I can ever do, Uncle Marvolo.  I can’t imagine what, to be honest—”  His dark blue eyes connected with the Dark Lord’s again.

A silent message passed between them.

“Thank you for the offer, Nephew.  It does not go unnoticed.”

Harry nodded once and turned and left the room.  He found Lady Aloysia watching from the hallway.  “Lucius wrote about Violet,” she told him, linking her arm to his.  “Severus has always been a great friend.  We cannot imagine why he would actively consort with a Mudblood.”  She shivered slightly at the thought.  “It turns out your—former sister—wants you.”

“Now?” Harry asked, confused.

“If you’re not doing anything,” Lady Aloysia confirmed.  “I’ll take you to the floo.”

Spinner’s End, it turned out, was just as dark and just as gray as Grimmauld Place.  It was, however, packed with bookcases and books.  Everywhere Harry looked there were books and he was almost certain more books were stuffed into Spinner’s End than were in the whole of Hogwarts’ library.

Professor Snape was reading when Harry arrived, unsurprisingly.  “Ah,” he greeted.  “One of my favorite pupils.”

“Aunt Aloysia said that Violet was asking for me.”  He paused.  “Violet hates me—usually.”

“She may hate you, Mr. Potter,” Snape agreed, “but you were her brother for sixteen years.  She cannot speak to her mother because I’m suing her for line theft.  She cannot speak to James Potter because my law wizard will soon be serving him with papers, as well.”  (At this, Harry blinked in surprise.) “And she cannot speak to Jonathan because he’s in prison for attempted rape.  She wanted to speak to Granger, but I advised against it since this is a magical issue and Granger will have no point of reference.”

“I didn’t know they were such great friends,” Harry murmured.

“Neither did I,” Snape concurred.  “She is, however, Jonathan’s girlfriend.” 

That was certainly true.  Her testimony had also helped put Jonathan away for attempted rape, which he knew from Granger’s letters certainly had her at moral odds with herself.

Harry cleared his throat.  “What should I know?”

“The Wizengamot has granted me emergency custody.  I also wish to change Violet’s name.  I do not approve of the name Violet.”

“What do you want to change it to?”

“She’ll undoubtedly tell you,” Snape intoned.  “She’s had quite a lot to say on the subject.  Please also assure her that whatever she fears, I’m not going to force her to change houses.  Her mother was a Gryffindor, I respect the Sorting Hat’s decision.  She’d be eaten alive in Slytherin House.”

That was certainly true.  She’d cursed enough Slytherin first and second years for the older students to curse her every waking (and sleeping) moment.

With that, Harry was shown to the third floor where there was a large bedroom overlooking the street.  “This is nice,” Harry commented.  “Has your trunk been sent over?”  He noticed that Violet was still wearing the same t-shirt and jeans as the day before.  At least they looked as though they’d had refreshing charms put on them.  Smelled like it, too.

“Not yet,” she told him, standing from a windowseat where she seemed to be people watching.  “I don’t know why it hasn’t come.”

“It might be because Lily has apparently locked herself in her study.  She didn’t even tell Dad where you were.  He came knocking on my door early this morning, asking about your whereabouts.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Yes,” Harry informed her.  “How could I not, considering?”  He sighed and sat down.  “You know, if you ask nicely enough, Professor Snape might only change your middle name.”

“He has his heart set on it,” she told him with derision in her voice.  “He says he always wanted a daughter.”

Funny, Snape had always had one staring him straight in the face, and he had never realized it.  Harry was beginning to wonder if Violet had glamours put on her to make her look a little more like Lily than she should.

“He take glamours off you yet?”

Violet looked at him, clearly surprised.

No, then, probably not.  Harry hadn’t noticed a difference, so there probably hadn’t been one to notice.  He flicked his wrist and his wand slid out of his sleeve into his hand.

Violet immediately stiffened.  “What are you doing, Harry?”

“Taking glamours off of you,” he said, as if it should be obvious.  And it really should be.  “Don’t you want to know what you look like?”

“I know what I look like,” she snapped.

“You know what Lily wanted you to look like,” he spat back a little viciously. “I doubt your eyes are really dark green in the correct lighting.  Maybe you’ll get used to whatever name Professor Snape wants to give you if you look the part.  Is it really all that different?”

“No,” Violet agreed carefully.  “Vesper Marcella.  Close enough to Violet Margaret, I suppose.”

“Don’t you want to look like a Vesper?” Harry asked, completely serious.  “Don’t you want to see what Lily did to you?”

“But I’m pretty,” Violet argued back.  “I’m the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.  Everyone says so.  I have seventh years asking to go with me.  I can have anyone I want.  Or nearly anyone.  What if I’m ugly instead?”

“But wouldn’t you rather be you?” Harry whispered, coming up to her and carefully settling a hand on her shoulder.  “When I got my Hogwarts letter, Dad took me aside and told me Lily wasn’t my mum.  I’d always known, somewhere deep down, but I was relieved when I found out.  I learned I was a pureblood, that my mother was in Slytherin, and I had a mother somewhere out there who loved me very much.  I found out I had her eyes.—Don’t you want to know if you have your father’s eyes?  Your grandmother’s ears?”

Violet looked up at him with sad green-black eyes, tears filling them to the brim.

“Let’s find out who Vesper is.”

Harry was genuinely surprised when she nodded.

He took the glamour off her eyes first.  They were a startling bright black, almost glossy like an onyx stone.  Her hair was the same strawberry blonde, but her chin was more pointed and her nose thinner and her cheekbones a little higher, like a pureblood.  Harry conjured her a glass so she could look at herself.

“You have wizarding eyes,” Harry told her carefully.  “You have eyes to be proud of.”

“My chin is almost sharp,” Violet murmured, moving her face from side to side, taking herself in.

“It doesn’t make you any less pretty,” Harry told her.  “It just means you’re not an exact copy of Lily Potter.  You notice that I’m not an exact copy of James Potter.”  Violet looked up at him, confused.  “My hair’s a little messier, my cheeks a little thinner like my mother’s, my ears a little flatter.  We look like father and son but there are differences.  Now you don’t look like a mirror image of Lily.  It doesn’t look like magic spit you out the other end of her wand with different colored hair and darker eyes.  This is a good thing.”

Violet took the glass in her hands again and continued to look at herself.

Professor Snape only came up when Violet’s trunk arrived and he stared at his daughter when he noticed her observing her reflection.

“We took the glamours off,” Harry explained.  “I knew Lily must have put one or two on—”

“No, of course,” Snape agreed as he dropped the trunk at the end of the bed.  He walked up to Violet and carefully took her chin between his fingers.  “You look so much like Mother.  She was always so tired, as I remember her, but she had a noble bearing.”

“She was a—” Violet asked carefully, a little confused.

“A Prince,” Snape told her.  “Wait one moment.”

He left the room and they heard him go down the stairs.  A few minutes later, he came back up.

“We should get you your own copy, of course,” he murmured, as he presented her with a worn volume of Spungen’s Guide to Pureblood Dynasties of Great Britain, c. 1066-present.  He quickly turned to more than halfway through the book and opened up the family tree for the Prince Family, unfolding the pages out so it spread out over Violet’s lap.  “You will see the current Lord Prince is Priam.  His younger half-sister, now deceased, is Eileen.”  He pointed out names on the tree and Harry bent over to look.  Eileen’s name was in grey, showing she had died.  “Eileen was married to my father, Tobias Snape.  He was—a Muggle.”  This was said with derision.

Violet looked up in shock as did Harry, but Professor Snape was decidedly still pointing at the family tree.

“I’m there.  And I’ve petitioned Gringotts for blood evidence to add you to the tree, so you’ll be added beneath me.”

“As Vesper Marcella,” Violet checked.  “Would Mum’s name be listed?”

“As your mother,” Snape informed her, “but not as my wife.”

“So I would be—illegitimate.  Isn’t that bad?”  She looked up at Professor Snape again, confusion in her onyx eyes.

“No, it’s like this,” Harry told her, folding the tree back up.  He took the copy of Spungen’s and opened up to the Gaunt family tree.  He unfolded it and pointed out his mother, Lady Maia Gaunt.  “See, I’m here, in black.  I’m legitimate.  Dad is listed here, as my father, but not as Mother’s husband.  When I turn seventeen I’m petitioning the Wizengamot for use of the name ‘Gaunt’ and I will become Head of the Gaunt Family.”

Violet looked over the family tree and traced up the line from Harry to Maia and James up to Mordecai up to Morfin and then to Marvolo.

“If you go here,” Harry told her, tracing down from Marvolo to Merope and T. Riddle, “you will find Magnolia.”  He ran his finger down to T. Marvolo Riddle and then down to Magnolia Riddle.  “See, we’re both here on the tree.”

“You’re related!  Just like Dad said!”

“Yes, just like James said,” Harry stressed, glancing up at Snape.  “But you see how I’m legitimate even though my parents aren’t married.  I’m entirely recognized.”

“Do I have to marry my pureblood cousin if I’m on a pureblood tree?” Violet asked, a little fearful.

“Absolutely not,” Snape told her, catching her gaze.  “We don’t do that in the Prince family.  As you can tell, my grandfather married three times, which is a little unusual, but we are always free to marry as we choose.  My mother even married a Muggle.”

“So I can marry a Muggle or a Muggleborn.”  Violet looked up hopefully.

“I would prefer it if you married a wizard because it’s easier not to be in an unequal relationship, but you may marry whom you like, Violet, with my permission.” 

Her black eyes flashed up.  “Mum said I could marry a Muggle.”

“Yes, well, your mother did not have a Muggle father and a witch mother.  She didn’t see how destructive it can be.”  He reclaimed the Spungen’s and took a seat on her trunk, across from Violet and Harry.  “But that is years from now.  You’re only just starting your sixth year.”

A silence fell between the three of them.

“Aunt Aloysia said you’re close to the Malfoys,” Harry tried, wanting to start conversation between Professor Snape and Violet.  “Maybe Violet can go over for lunch tomorrow.  I can go over with Magnolia.”

“Malfoy?” Violet asked, clearly confused.  “Is he the one you were with on the Hogwarts Express?”

“Our year, blond hair,” Harry tried.  “Always with me and Magnolia.”

“Do you think I pay attention to you?” Violet scoffed.  “I prefer to ignore you during the year.”

“I know all the Gryffindors our year!” Harry argued.

“Really?” she demanded.  “Name them!”

Harry scrunched up his face in concentration.  “Weasley, obviously.  Longbottom.  Finn—Finn something.”

She snorted.

“Thomas.  Greengrass goes on about his drawings.  Then for the girls—you.  Granger.  Dunbar.  One of the two twins in our year.”  He paused, thinking.  “Brown,” he sounded out slowly.  “Yeah, there are five of you girls.”  Harry looked over at her with dark blue eyes.  “You know I got it right.”

She grumbled. 

“Who else is going to understand what you’re going through?” Harry asked her honestly.  “Do you think Finn with his Muggle father?  Thomas with his Muggle parents?  Granger with her Muggle parents?  Brown with her Muggle mother?  Do you think the Weaslette is going to take your side if you have a Slytherin for a father?”

This, clearly, surprised her.  “You’re incredibly well informed.”

“Of course, I’m well informed.  In pureblood culture you always need to know who you’re talking to.  You need to know their perspective on life.”  He stood up.  “Plus, it will get you used to the name ‘Vesper’.”

“Vesper,” Violet echoed.  “Twilight.”

“Vesper,” Harry tried out.  “Well, you can now call me ‘Harrogate’ like all the purebloods do.  Take a shower, get dressed.  You’re not in mourning.  This is a celebration.”

“Celebration?”

“You just learnt your heritage.”  He turned to Snape.  “I assume she’ll meet Lord Prince?”

“As soon as the Goblins verify her heritage,” he answered.

“Good,” he answered.  “Lily will beg.  Don’t give into her,” and with that he left the room.