The Dark Lord’s Daughter
Part the Thirteenth
Harry snuck out of Hogsmeade that October, not even telling Magnolia where he was going. The Pumpkin Carriage had been no help, but a discreet word to his mother had produced some insight. He got the key to Grimmauld Place from Lord Malfoy, saying he wanted to inspect it for Magnolia for when they were married, and he met his mother in the street in front of it.
His mother’s scarred face was covered in a cloak and her blackened hand barely escaped the folds of her sleeve where she held Aurora’s leash.
He hugged her tightly before letting her in to a transformed Grimmauld Place. It was all light and bright colors and Lady Maia smiled, turning in a circle, and laughed. “Lady Malfoy did well,” she complimented as they went up to the Tapestry Room.
“Now,” she murmured, “what is this about a malfunctioning vined ring? You said you weren’t hurt.”
“No. That’s the problem?”
Lady Maia looked at him carefully. “Did you preempt your vows to Lady Magnolia?” she asked very carefully.
“No!” he asserted, his voice surprised and shocked. “I would never do that to Nola! I—I wouldn’t want to.”
“Then what is it?” she asked as a tea tray was delivered and she began to pour out two cups. “What’s happened?” Aurora sat dutifully by her side, waiting for treats.
Harry took a deep breath. “You remember Lord Roman.”
At this his mother’s eyes brightened. “Oh, him. He was always so lovely as a child. What did he accuse you of? Not thinking for yourself?”
“He kissed me,” Harry mumbled, and his mother almost dropped her cup. “I didn’t want him to! He was just going on about me not having my own mind and then he kissed me. I hexed him, he laughed, and then he jumped out a window. But my ring—it hummed and vibrated but did nothing else.”
Mother was pursing her lips together. “It’s the old magic. Our rings force us to be faithful to our husbands and wives with other wizards and witches.—I’m not explaining it. Your ring forces you to be faithful to your wife with other witches, but not with other wizards. Friendships are not punished by our rings.”
Harry stared at his mother. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that magic turns a blind eye to certain close friendships. Your father should have explained it to you. I’ll be having words with him that he did not.” She stirred a spoon in her tea. “Sometimes I wonder at your father.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Why would I want—?”
“Most don’t,” she told him. “Some do.—Lord Roman shouldn’t have kissed you. You’re betrothed. I’ll be having words with him, too, though this brings up interesting possibilities given the little warmth you have for Magnolia.”
Harry ignored her. “So, a friendship,” he swallowed, “with a man—”
“—is tolerated,” she told him outright, “but only for wizards. Witches aren’t afforded such luxuries.” Her silver vined ring glinted in the sunlight against her blackened hand. “That you aren’t pursuing such a friendship is your choice.”
Harry nodded again before taking another sip of his tea. “Should I tell Magnolia? I don’t want to make her angry.”
Lady Maia paused, giving him a piercing look. “That’s up to you. It meant nothing, so there is potentially no need. It was your first kiss, however, so perhaps you might like to.” (Harry quickly took a sip from his cup to cover being flustered.) “Don’t tell her near her O.W.L.s though. No need to upset her.” She took a deep breath.
Harry, of course, agreed. He took another sip of his tea before feeding his biscuit to Aurora.
He slipped back into Hogsmeade easily, with Magnolia only sending him a questioning look. Harry was lucky it wasn’t worse. He pressed the back of his fingers against her cheek, his vined ring cold against her skin, and she gave him a smile. He found he couldn’t answer it.
Harry did notice that when the four of them—him, Magnolia, Draco, and Genevieve—were in the Three Broomsticks, Violet and Pavati Patil were only two tables away from them. Violet kept on catching glances at them to the point that even Magnolia began to notice and Harry got definitely annoyed.
Later, when they were back at the castle, he waited behind a tapestry on the way to Gryffindor Tower, and pulled Violet behind it when she walked by with Pavati Patil.
“Tell her to go on,” he murmured dangerously in her ear. When she hesitated, he promised, “I’m not going to curse you.”
“You go on,” Violet called. “I need to tie my shoe.”
Harry looked down at her shoes and noticed she was wearing the ballet slippers she’d been wearing earlier in the day. Shrugging, however, he asked, “What was all that about?”
“What was all what about?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he harrumphed, crossing his arms. “You were staring at us the entire afternoon we were in the Three Broomsticks. Are you not sticking to first years anymore? Are you feeling a little bit of Slytherin ambition?”
She looked up at him with her onyx eyes. “Did you ever wonder why I cursed you?”
“Of course I wondered why you and Jonathan cursed me—It’s all I wondered when we were children, but it became rather obvious when Dad told me about Mother—”
But Violet wasn’t listening to him. She was crowding Harry up against the back of the Tapestry, leaning her hand against his chest, and reaching up until her lips brushed up against his. A searing pain shot up through his left middle finger and he screamed when the bone cracked at the middle knuckle.
Shoving her away, Harry looked at his hand in horror. “You broke my finger!” he accused.
“I did no such thing. I didn’t even touch your hand!”
“You didn’t have to touch my hand. Hasn’t Pavati or Professor Snape explained vined rings to you, Violet?” he demanded, slipping into her birth name by accident.
“Uncle Severus might have said something before term, but he said I didn’t need to worry about it because Mum is a Muggleborn—”
Harry just stared at her in disbelief. “But you have to deal with them because you are now friends with purebloods. I’m a pureblood, Vesper, I wear a vined ring, as does Draco, and of course Magnolia, and I’m sure Pavati wears one as well.”
“So what?” Violet asked airily as she carefully approached him and took his hand in hers. “Is your finger well and truly broken?”
“The ring punished me for being unfaithful to Magnolia—”
“Then you liked it,” Violet decided, looking up through her strawberry blonde eyelashes.
Harry glared at her, stunned at her audacity. “I didn’t like it. You were my fucking sister for sixteen years. You pranked me!”
“Because I wanted you to notice me, and it seemed to work for Jonathan.”
Harry scoffed, taking back his hand. “You shouldn’t have called me a ‘dirty Slytherin’ and told me I wasn’t really a ‘Potter.’ You weren’t the actual Potter,” he sneered, now looking for the seam of the tapestry. “I can’t believe this. I’m sixteen and now I’m desirable to everyone.”
“Harry,” Violet wheedled.
Harry turned to her viciously. “It’s Harrogate. You’re a Snape now. Get it right.—And none of this ‘HAHR-OH-gate’ nonsense. You’re not a common Muggleborn.” He saw the startled look on her otherwise pretty face and turned and left her behind the tapestry, wondering what in magic he was going to do. When Magnolia found out, she was going to be enraged.
If he went to Madam Pomphrey, Dumbledore would know and then his dad would know, and he didn’t want his dad to know at all. He and Violet were practically brother and sister, even though they technically weren’t. If he went to Professor Snape, he would find out about Violet and he might tell Uncle Marvolo, which would certainly be worse. He couldn’t leave his finger untreated, however.
“People just keep kissing me,” he explained to Snape as he presented his hand. “I can’t figure out why. It defies reason.”
“Reason, perhaps, but not explanation,” Snape told him, setting the bone and conjuring a splint. “You’re great-nephew to the Dark Lord. Power is a powerful aphrodisiac. You need to have faster reflexes and curse these young women—and men?” he guessed, and Harry nodded, “before they get the chance to get you alone.” He looked over his handiwork. “This would have been much worse if you had been an active participant.”
“Why would I be an active participant?” Harry asked.
“Why indeed?” Snape concurred, indicating that he should step off the makeshift medical bed.
It was then that the door to Snape’s study opened and Violet walked into the room. She glanced between Snape and Harry and then angrily demanded, “You told Uncle Severus?”
“Ah, my daughter appears to be the culprit.—Mr. Potter told me nothing. Your identity was quite protected until this moment.”
Violet flushed red.
“I see we must have another discussion about vined rings and respecting others’ persons.” He sighed heavily. “Come back to me in two days if your finger is not perfectly healed, Mr. Potter. I am obligated to report this to your advocate, Lord Malfoy.”
Harry grimaced. Lord Malfoy would definitely tell the Dark Lord. “I shall write to Uncle Marvolo, then, before he hears from Uncle Lucius,” he decided.
“You are lucky you are not left-handed,” Snape surmised, ushering his daughter further into the study. She was still flushed red and was decidedly not making eye-contact with either of them.
Harry was able to write his letter to the Dark Lord and a quick one to his mother, sending them out, before he found Magnolia and told her what had happened.
“Vesper?” she checked, clearly startled. “But she hates you.”
“Clearly there is a fine line between love and hate,” Harry mused, looking over his finger.
“Well, you’re going to have to tell everyone why your vined finger is taped up. People are going to want to know, and you cannot accept blame.” She seethed. As soon as Draco sat down, she opened her mouth and said, “Vesper Snape kissed Harrogate,” pointing to his finger. “Isn’t she a viper in Gryffindor clothing?”
“But she was your sister!” Draco shuddered. “You thought you had the same father.”
“Yes,” Harry agreed, glad all the blame was falling on Violet, “apparently that’s never mattered to her.”
“She’s been lurking,” Magnolia agreed, clearly angry. “And now that her blood is free of consanguinity, she has tried to take what is mine.” Great, Harry was an object again.
Draco’s grey eyes lit up. “I understand.”
Harry looked between them. “I don’t.”
“Leave this to me,” Draco told his cousin, resting his hand firmly on her forearm. “We’ll make sure she never touches Harrogate again.”
Sitting forward, Harry looked between the Malfoy cousins. Realizing they were talking about cursing Violet, he murmured, “How much of a lesson are we talking about?”
“She’s a slave to her lust,” Draco replied carefully, “we will make certain that everyone sees her for the harlot that she is.”
Harry was immediately uncomfortable. He glanced over at Magnolia, but her nose was in a book. He definitely didn’t like the way her mind worked, and if it was vicious now, how much worse was it going to be when they were married?
He found Yul Rowle two days later and tried to raise the subject.
“Vesper Snape?” Rowle asked. “Yes, the call has been put out. No one will act on it for a good two or three weeks, however.” This was certainly unusual. Harry thought about it and all he could think of was a couple of essays due then and, of course, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match.
“Two or three weeks?” he checked. “Why then?”
Rowle shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? You know how much I dislike Snape. She only marginally improves now that she has those glamours taken off of her. Her mother is still a Mudblood—no offense, Potter.”
“None taken,” Harry replied, and he meant it. Lily Potter was a Muggleborn, and he didn’t mind the word ‘Mudblood.’ He himself didn’t use it, but it was certainly evocative. “Well, thank you,” Harry told him, going back to where he was sitting with Draco and Genevieve. Magnolia was still in class.
In the meanwhile, he was receiving almost daily owls from his dad. The divorce was going ahead, even though Lily was in Azkaban. James and Lily weren’t married by magic, so they were getting divorced in the Muggle world, which meant only their Muggle assets could be divided. As they had virtually no Muggle assets, this was a short process.
James had purchased the house in Godric’s Hollow, so that was his. Their incomes had gone into a joint fund, so their incomes were separated by percentage. Lily got to keep her research books and the furniture she had purchased, but almost everything else went to James. Jonathan was already an adult so neither got custody (though Lily couldn’t get custody since she was in Azkaban). He also happened to be in prison and awaiting trial. Harry was sixteen, but Lady Maia had been given primary custody of him when he was fifteen, which surprised Harry. No one had told him. Violet was now legally Vesper Snape and Professor Snape had been awarded legal custody of her over the summer.
When the Potter divorce came through, Draco and Harry threw a massive party in the Slytherin dungeons, which lasted all weekend, including champagne from France.
“You don’t find it sad?” Violet asked him when they were both sitting in the Astronomy Tower, waiting for the N.E.W.T. level class to start.
Harry turned to her. “What should I find sad?”
“That our childhood home is broken up.”
He shrugged. “Lily was never a mother to me. Jonathan made sure it was never home. You made damn sure of that, too, Vesper.”
“That was never my intention,” she said, voice small.
“Watch your back,” Harry warned, “Slytherin is angry for what you did.”
She looked at him in confusion. “I only kissed you!”
“Which is anathema before marriage,” he told her outright. “Just being kissed by you broke my finger. I don’t know why you can’t accept the severity of what you’ve done, but if you want to live as Vesper Snape, you better wake up to pureblood culture, otherwise you’re going to be eaten alive.”
Tears began to form at the corner of her eyes, and Harry felt protective of the witch who used to be his little sister, but squashed the feeling.
“Look smart,” he told her, when Draco arrived with one or two Slytherins, and he stood to go over and sit with them.
In early November, Harry and Magnolia missed class and went to London with Lord Malfoy as witnesses to Jonathan’s attempted rape trial. Violet was coming separately with Professor Snape. Harry knew Hermione was coming, too, but he didn’t know who was serving as her guardian or advocate.
Lily was one of the first witnesses, having been taken out of Azkaban solely for the trial. Her long auburn hair had been cut short to her shoulders, and she was wearing a Muggle business suit. At least she wasn’t in prison garb.
“Yes, Auror Jonathan Potter is my son. Harrogate” (HAHR-OH-gate) “Potter is my stepson. It was his birthday. He brought with him Magnolia Riddle.”
Her law wizard appeared to be Albus Dumbledore, his hand charred to a black crisp, but he was still cheerful and wearing bright purple robes. “You say in your statement that a fight broke out between these three individuals.”
“Yes. Magnolia Riddle was just horrible. She kept on goading Jonathan. She was asking for it.”
“So, Jonathan fired the first hex?” Dumbledore checked.
“Yes, he was an adult and could use his wand. It went wide. No one was hurt. Harry then started throwing plates and things. We calmed them down after that.”
“But things escalated again,” Dumbledore prompted.
“Jonathan made an innocent comment about bringing Magnolia back to his apartment, once he had one, and Harry in a jealous rage threw a knife through Jonathan’s throat. We thought Jonathan had died. Harry, like the coward he is, ran. He took Magnolia with him.”
“What were Jonathan’s exact words?” Dumbledore asked.
“Oh,” Lily stumbled. “I don’t remember his exact words—”
“Thank you, Dr. Evans.”
Harry watched as the prosecuting law wizard stood. He was a tall wizard with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. He was nearly good looking, but didn’t quite manage it. “Rabastan Lestrange,” Lord Malfoy murmured so Harry could hear him. “The brother-in-law of my wife’s sister. The Lestranges are family to the Malfoys, and thus family to you. He’s one of the best.”
“You don’t remember the exact words?” Rabastan checked, clearly already expecting a certain answer.
“No,” Lily said, shifting in her seat.
“Then, would it surprise you, that we have memory evidence where Magnolia Riddle says, and I quote, ‘Perfectly valid question. Do you have a flat? You don’t have a vined ring. You must have lady friends to entertain.’ And then, in response, Auror Jonathan Potter says, and I quote ‘I’m going to cut off your middle finger and show you—’ before he’s cut off?” He shuffled a few papers. “Tell me, Dr. Evans, professor as you are of magic, what is a middle finger?”
She shifted uncomfortably.
“Dr. Evans?”
When she still did not answer, Rabastan looked at the judge. The judge sighed: “You will answer.”
Still looking uncomfortable, Lily sat up straight and said, “It is the middle finger of the left hand, dominant or not, where a pureblood wears a vined ring.”
“Good, a nice descriptive answer, Dr. Evans, thank you. Now, can you tell us about vined rings in a sentence or two?”
She cleared her throat somewhat delicately. “They guarantee fidelity to a witch’s future husband. If a witch were to be unfaithful, or if someone were to force her to be unfaithful, she would be physically punished.”
“So to cut off a middle finger and show a witch what can only be imagined as ‘entertainment in a wizard’s flat’—what would that mean?”
“It would free a witch from physical repercussions and leave her open to receive a wizard’s advances without being physically ill or tortured by her ring. It allows,” she swallowed carefully and looked at Dumbledore who looked solemn, “the rapist to rape with impunity.”
“Do you think that a young fifteen-year-old witch, the intended of your sixteen-year-old stepson, deserves to be raped?” Rabastan asked her curiously.
“No,” she breathed. “Of course not.”
“Then why defend her attempted rapist?”
“He’s my son. She’s You-Know-Who’s—”
“Thank you,” Rabastan Lestrange interrupted. “No more questions.”
James Potter was next up. His advocate was a wizard that Harry didn’t recognize.
“Now, you are changing your story from your original statement. Your original statement is that your son, Harry Potter, tried to murder your older son, Jonathan Potter, in cold blood.”
“Yes.”
“Your new statement is that Auror Jonathan Potter attempted to rape Magnolia Riddle and Harry Potter acted in her defense.”
“Yes. What I did was wrong. In trying to protect my eldest son, I betrayed not only Harry and Magnolia, but I betrayed the truth. The truth is that Jonathan threatened Magnolia’s person and Harry acted entirely in her defense.”
“Thank you.”
Rabastan Lestrange had no questions for that witness.
Hermione Granger was the next witness. Her advocate was the same as James Potter’s.
“Interesting—” Lord Malfoy murmured.
“Now,” the law wizard began. “You are the girlfriend of Jonathan Potter. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m not sure of the status of our relationship at the present because he’s been in Azkaban for several months, but at the time of the incident I was his girlfriend.”
“You have always maintained that Jonathan Potter threatened to rape Magnolia Riddle and that Harry Potter acted in her defense.”
She fidgeted. “Well, yes. That’s what happened. I don’t condone Jonathan’s actions. I—I don’t particularly like Magnolia Riddle, but no one deserves that.”
“So you stand by your original statement?”
“Yes.”
“Even though you are accusing your boyfriend of attempted rape.”
Hermione blushed. “Yes, despite that,” she admitted. Hermione was able to step down after Rabastan Lestrange had no questions for her.
Violet was the next witness. It seemed that Lord Malfoy was serving as her advocate as a favor to Professor Snape.
“Vesper. Please tell the court your name at the time of the incident and your relationship to Jonathan Potter.”
Violet took a deep breath. “I was born Violet Margaret Potter. I believed myself to be the daughter of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, but now I know that I’m the daughter of Professor Severus Snape and Lily Evans. Jonathan Potter is my half-brother. I’m not related to Harrogate Potter in any way.” Well, at least she pronounced his name right.
“I understand this was a sixteenth birthday dinner for Harrogate and his intended, Lady Magnolia Riddle, was invited.”
“Yes.”
“Tell us about the contentious conversation.”
“Well, Jonathan had been dating a fellow Hogwarts student, Ginny Weasley, who dumped him for someone else. Magnolia brought it up and Jonathan got a bit touchy. He started hexing Magnolia, and Harry started throwing the china.” She took a breath.
“Then what?”
“Magnolia got under his skin again, he threatened to cut off her middle finger—”
“Her middle finger,” Lord Malfoy checked.
“Yes, I don’t see what the big deal is,” she admitted. “Harry is obsessed with his vined ring, too. They’re just rings.”
“That aside, what happened next?”
“Harry tried to kill Jonathan.”
Lord Malfoy looked at her with his ice blue eyes. “How did he do that, Vesper? Did he hex him? Did he strangle him? Did he throw the killing curse at him?”
“No,” she answered, “he picked up a knife and flung it at him. He had very good aim though, and it went right through Jonathan’s throat.”
“Would you say, Vesper,” Lord Malfoy asked consciously, “that this seemed to be a knee-jerk reaction on Harrogate’s part? Your brother Jonathan threatened to cut off Magnolia’s finger and the next second, Harrogate had picked up the knife and thrown it as if it were second nature?”
She paused, looking at him. “—Yes,” she answered carefully.
“How is your brother Jonathan doing now?” Lord Malfoy asked solicitously.
“At first they had to put a voice box in, but he’s healed. I understand it barely scarred.”
Lord Malfoy smiled at her. “Thank you, Vesper. You’ve been most helpful.”
Rabastan stood and asked her, “If Jonathan said, ‘I’m going to rape you,’ to Magnolia and leaped at her, do you think Harrogate’s actions would have been justified?”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Violet countered.
“But for argument’s sake.”
“Well,” she thought. “I suppose, since he had a wand—”
“Thank you, Miss Snape.”
Magnolia was the next witness. Her testimony was exactly as Harry expected it. She didn’t admit to goading Jonathan, but she defended Harry’s actions.
Harry was after her. He was once again in the witness box, which he was becoming somewhat familiar with.
“Harrogate,” Lord Malfoy began, “you were originally accused of attempted murder.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It was quite frightening. I was afraid of going to Azkaban.”
“I’m sure,” Lord Malfoy agreed. “In all of this, you are the only wizard to offer Memory Evidence. Before we play it for the benefit of the court, is there anything you want to say?”
“Yes.” He took a deep breath and looked over at Magnolia, who was sitting there, gazing back at him with her dark blue eyes. He knew what he had to say. It was expected. Nonetheless, he didn’t mean a word of it, and he got a sickening feeling to his stomach before he even opened up his mouth. “I love Lady Magnolia and I will never not defend her honor and person,” he swore. He turned back to Lord Malfoy. “That’s all I have to say.”
Lord Malfoy nodded. “Thank you, Harrogate.” He made a motion and a screen was brought up to the side and the copied memory was inserted in the side.
Harry watched as he and Magnolia came downstairs. He saw how they all sat down to dinner. He watched how Lily shouted at him for wearing pureblood black. He saw the steak pie, he relived the conversation, and then there was the first hex. He saw Magnolia slide off her chair and he saw himself pick up a fork and a plate and fling them at his older brother. Then there was the threat—cold and ugly—and the knife. Harry watched himself stare in horror before Magnolia convinced him to run, and he ran, the memory ending as they rushed out the door.
The court broke out into whispers and Lord Malfoy waited until the judge gained control over his courtroom again.
“What happened after this, Harry?”
“We had a car—and a driver. We got in the car and drove. When we made it back to Magnolia’s home, there were roadblocks, so we drove into a neighboring county to where one of my mother’s dearest friends lives, and she let us use the floo to get home.”
“Home is where Lady Maia Gaunt lives then,” Lord Malfoy asked for some reason.
Harry looked at him oddly, but he answered, “Yes.” Perhaps he was establishing some alibi.
Jonathan was the final witness. He was still as tall as he ever was, though Harry was sure he was going to overtake him, with messy auburn hair, a few freckles on his face, and hazel eyes. His skin was flushed with health, which meant he’d been away from the yarn too long. Harry and Magnolia would have to get Hermione to sneak it into Azkaban.
Albus Dumbledore served as advocate, but even he knew that the trial was lost. “Can you tell us in your own words—?”
If Jonathan had been penitent instead of pompous, he might have gotten a reduced sentence. As it was, he defended his actions and accused Harry of being envious of his good looks and his good fortune with women.
He got the maximum, five years in Azkaban, and he was never permitted to work for the Ministry again.
Harry thought he got what he deserved. Magnolia was over the moon.
Now, though, now Harry had to worry what was going to happen to Violet.
