The Dark Lord’s Daughter
Part the Fourteenth
Harry at first didn’t know anything was happening. Draco stole out of the sixth year dorms so silently that if Harry hadn’t already been awake, he never would have known. Getting up, Harry quickly dressed himself and put on his shoes, slinking behind Draco and keeping to the shadows.
He wasn’t really surprised when Draco met up with Yul Rowle and Valerius Selwyn in the common room.
“Is it happening?” Harry asked, coming into full view.
Draco looked up and smirked. “I thought I heard you tossing about.”
“What are you going to do to Vesper in the middle of the night? She’s sleeping in Gryffindor Tower—”
“But we have a plant,” Draco reminded him, and Harry’s eyes must have shown realization because Selwyn said, “That’s right, Potter. We have Granger.”
Valerius Selwyn was Genevieve Selwyn’s twin brother. Both of them had golden hair, golden eyes, and golden skin like nearly all Selwyns. Selwyns, also, almost always produced twins, which would prove interesting if Draco actually married Apricot Selwyn.
“Alright,” Harry agreed. “I know Magnolia ordered this, but the sin was against me. Surely I should witness what happens.”
“But don’t you want to see the finished product?” Rowle asked, dark eyes bright. “It’s our gift to you.”
Harry paused and looked at the assembled trio. “There’s going to be a finished product?” A sense of dread was settling in his gut. “Are you sure I’m going to like this? Remember, I grew up with an Auror for a father.”
“Magnolia will like it,” Draco assured him. “Surely you’ll be happy for that.”
But that didn’t really make Harry feel any better. It worried him. Nonetheless, he remained on the stairs, as Draco, Rowle, and Selwyn left for Gryffindor Tower.
He didn’t go back down to his dorm, however. He waited until they came back more than two hours later.
“Why are you still here?” Draco asked, toeing off his shoes and taking an armchair across from Harry.
Harry ran a hand down his face. “I’m worried you went too far.”
“Us?” Draco demanded, clearly offended. “Go too far? What do you take us for?”
“Vengeful schoolboys,” Harry answered honestly. “What have you done to Vesper?”
“Only what she deserved.”
Harry sighed. He clearly wasn’t going to get anything else out of Draco. He got up and made his way back down to his bed, unsure if he was going to be able to catch any sleep.
At breakfast, nothing seemed to be different. He didn’t see Violet, but that didn’t really signify anything. It was the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match, so they all streamed out to the stands after breakfast. Harry settled into place beside Magnolia who was wearing green bows in her hair despite the fact that Slytherin wasn’t playing. Her hair almost seemed too perfect. The area around her hairline also seemed to shift somehow.
The crowd seemed particularly raucous, but Harry didn’t really pay attention. It was only when Magnolia started pulling on his arm and pointing toward the Gryffindor goal posts that Harry picked up his omnioculars and focused on them. There, on the left one, Violet was strung up in only her underwear.
He grimaced. At least they didn’t shear off her hair, which they might have done.
Looking over at Draco, he saw the smug look at his face.
“You didn’t go too far?” he asked, flabbergasted.
“She’s not naked!” Draco argued back, and Harry had to agree, she wasn’t naked. “It was her own fault for owning a bright pink lacy bra and panties.”
“Are those Muggle?” Magnolia asked from beside him, clearly looking through her own omnioculars. “I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re positively indecent!”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know where Lily took Vesper shopping. I obviously wasn’t invited.”
Magnolia hummed in the back of her throat. “I think they’re Muggle,” she guessed, adjusting a setting on her omnioculars. “I wonder if anyone would know in Slytherin.”
“Blaise Zabini? He’s going with the Weaslette but he doesn’t wear a vined ring—” Harry suggested carefully. He looked over at her, only to see her drop her omnioculars.
“You might be right,” she agreed. “None of the witches would know.” Magnolia breathed out through her nose. “I wonder when a professor will notice.”
It, strangely, wasn’t Professor Snape but instead was Professor Lupin. He accio’d a student’s broom and quickly flew out to Violet and gave her his cloak before flying her back down to the ground. By then everyone was watching the spectacle. The match was postponed, Madam Pomfrey was huddled over Violet and giving her several pepper up potions, and Snape was hovering over her, careful not to be too overbearing.
“Could have been worse,” Magnolia determined as they all filed out of the stands. “But a job well done, Draco.”
Of course, Draco smirked at Harry.
Harry glanced over at Genevieve to see what she thought of the entire affair. However, Genevieve wasn’t with them.
It turned out Genevieve had skipped the match to do some schoolwork in the quiet of the library, as Slytherin wasn’t playing, but she had it all from Magnolia, who gladly shared her omnioculars, which had recorded the entire spectacle. Harry groaned as Genevieve gasped and oohed in all the right places, wondering what kind of friends he had, but knowing that this was partially done to vindicate him.
“That will teach her from kissing purebloods again,” Genevieve concluded as she handed back the omnioculars. “The gall of the girl! Her own supposed brother! Do you suppose she fancied him this entire time?”
“I reckon she did,” Draco put in, looping an arm around Genevieve’s neck and leaning his head close to hers. “You don’t just develop a crush on someone you’ve lived with your entire life.”
“I just developed feelings for Magnolia when she stated her intentions for me,” Harry argued back, sitting on the floor next to Magnolia’s legs, knowing he’d never fancied Magnolia a day in his life. “It never would have occurred to me beforehand.”
“That’s because Magnolia was out of your league,” Draco stated self-importantly. “You were an Auror’s son in Slytherin. You hadn’t a hope in the Chamber of Secrets of her noticing you until—”
“—until I noticed him,” Magnolia murmured, running her fingers through Harry’s fringe, tugging at it a little painfully. “No, Harrogate was always staring Vesper in the face. He and I were removed from each other so Harrogate only ever saw me from a distance. There was no opportunity for Harrogate to fancy me unless he gained a crush on someone who could never be his. Vesper, on the other hand, had Harrogate staring her in the face, day in and day out. He was constantly in her orbit and he was constantly out of reach. It must have been torture.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “She said she pranked me to get me to notice her.”
“Horrible girl,” Magnolia breathed. “She’s lucky you did so little to her, Draco. No one touches what’s mine.”
Harry had the uncomfortable feeling of being an owned person that he sometimes got with Magnolia. He glanced up at her with his ocean blue eyes and she looked down at him lovingly. Now he felt like her pet hippogriff.
“Hopefully she’s learned her lesson, so Harrogate doesn’t feel conflicted loyalty.”
Harry breathed out and reached out and tangled his fingers with Magnolia’s and squeezed them in thanks. She smiled back at him and leaned down until her forehead was pressing against his in affection. Sometimes, Harry wondered if she was playacting as much as he was.
Magnolia did ask Blaise Zabini about Violet’s underwear, unfortunately when Harry was present.
“Is it Muggle? Do you know?” she asked sweetly.
“Why do you think I would know?” he questioned, looking her up and down in a way Harry didn’t appreciate. Then again, if it got Magnolia off his hands…
Harry glared at Zabini in warning, playing his part perfectly.
“It’s only you don’t wear a vined ring and we can guess what you get up to with the Weaslette,” Harry told him flat out. “You’re the Black Widow’s son. She’s legendary.”
Zabini’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not wrong about Ginny.” He was using her nickname. Interesting. “We’re engaged, but we have to wait until we turn seventeen. We’ve said our vows in front of Mother Magic. Magic knows we’re faithful to each other.”
Magnolia opened her mouth, but Zabini raised his hand to quiet her.
“I’ve only been with Ginny before you ask. I may be a half-blood, but I’m not ‘legendary’ like my mother. We waited until marriage—”
“—or until vows were exchanged,” Harry qualified.
“Or until vows were exchanged,” Zabini agreed. “However,” he looked off to the side and then leaned forward, “Ginny wears similar undergarments. I don’t think they’re wizarding, though. Except when she went to the Yule Ball with Longbottom of all people,” he scoffed, “I don’t think Ginny has worn a stitch of wizarding clothing. I’ll change all that, of course.”
Harry was suddenly curious what wizarding undergarments looked like. Was he wearing Muggle underthings? He’d have to ask Draco discreetly.
“What does Ginny stand for?” Magnolia asked in curiosity.
“Ginevra,” Zabini shared. “It’s Italian for ‘Guinevere’.”
Harry looked up at that. That was certainly curious information. He looked over at Magnolia and saw she was certainly intrigued.
“For a witch who names her sons plebian names like ‘Fred’ and ‘George’ and ‘Bill’,” Harry murmured, “’Ginevra’ is certainly out of character for Molly Weasley.” He paused and looked at Zabini. “I hope you’re using your influence to keep the Weaslette out of the Order of the Phoenix.”
Zabini looked confused.
“She hasn’t told you.” Harry sighed. “The Order of the Phoenix is Dumbledore’s secret organization for fighting the Dark Lord and his followers. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are members, along with Bill Weasley, perhaps Charlie, the next brother, and certainly the twins, Fred and George. I wouldn’t want your wife to get caught up with the wrong people.”
Zabini kept a cool look on his face but his dark eyes betrayed slight worry. “Thank you for that piece of information. I will certainly be speaking to Ginny about it. The fact that she didn’t tell me is worrying.”
Harry slapped him on the back in camaraderie. “I thought you should be warned. I know you’re not declared, which we completely respect, but you don’t want your wife getting dragged into this by her family.”
“No,” he agreed. “I don’t. Thanks, Potter.” He nodded his head. “Riddle.” He nodded to her and then, making his excuses, left.
Harry and Magnolia watched him go.
“Was that wise, Harrogate?” Magnolia asked.
“We gave him the Weaslette. We don’t want her going underground and not taking her love potion, now, do we?” Harry asked.
Magnolia smirked at him. “You are such a matchmaker.”
“Blame Jonathan. It’s all his fault.”
Magnolia slipped her hand through his arm. “I think he brought us closer. I had bargaining power without the prat, but I immediately started protecting you, which you appreciated.”
“I always appreciate not having to look over my shoulder.” He placed his hand over hers. “And now Vesper has been neutralized.”
Of course, Granger had to find Harry the day before they left on Winter Hols in the library. “I’m not doing you any more favors.”
Harry looked up at her. “I didn’t ask the last favor. That was Draco.” He shuffled his papers. “And it could have been worse. Much worse.”
“What did she do?” Granger asked desperately.
“She kissed me.”
Granger stared at him.
Harry held up his left hand where his ivory vined ring glinted off of his middle finger.
Granger sucked in a breath. “Were you punished?”
“Yes,” he told her. “Not badly, but yes. Magnolia was not happy about the situation.”
Granger looked torn. “Violet’s your sister—”
“It defies reason,” Harry agreed. “Why doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” He looked up at Granger with his ocean blue eyes.
Shifting uneasily, Granger glanced at him.
“What is it?”
“She’s always said she fancied someone she could never have. Maybe it was you?”
Harry ground his teeth. He didn’t like to hear how his little sister had been fancying him for years. “Well,” he reasoned. “We’ve thought for our entire lives that we had the same father, so I find the entire situation a little disturbing. I don’t care if Professor Snape is her wizarding father, I still grew up with her.” He shivered. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Look at it from her point of view—”
“Yes, fancying your brother is a great idea,” he supplied sarcastically, “especially when he’s engaged to be married. Pranking him just makes it so much better.”
Granger deflated. “I do see your point.”
“I don’t suppose Jonathan can write you from Azkaban.”
She flushed. “Owls are not permitted to or from prisoners. I have to wait—if I want to wait—”
“Only you can decide that,” Harry told her solicitously. “And you don’t have a timetable for the decision. You can decide today—you can decide in three years.” He looked over his essay. “This is due by end of day.”
“You left it rather late,” she chided.
“You should see my social calendar,” he laughed, shooing her away. “It’s almost done anyway.”
She got up and looked him over. “I think you’re one of the good ones, Harry Potter, despite everything.”
He looked up at her in shock. Granger just shrugged and walked away.
Violet was not on the train back to Platform 9¾, which was a little strange. When they were going to Hogwarts in September, Violet had gotten on the train in London and traveled to Hogwarts with her friends, but she was conspicuously absent on the train trip back for Winter Hols.
“I suppose Professor Snape doesn’t want to give us a chance to curse her,” Draco mused after he had changed into his pureblood black. “He actually called me into his office.”
“Did he?” Magnolia asked. “What did you say?”
“What happens in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin,” Draco quoted.
Harry rolled his eyes. “How did Professor Snape take it?”
“He wasn’t happy with me. He asked me if the vendetta was over, and I said as long as Vesper stopped kissing engaged persons, and he let me go.” He shrugged.
Magnolia giggled. “You didn’t!”
“Yes, I did,” Draco affirmed. “I said exactly that!”
Harry breathed out through his teeth. If only Violet weren’t a Snape, these distinctions would be so much easier. Now the lines were blurred, and it gave him a headache.
He was back at Riddle House for Winter Hols and he remembered his last Christmas there.
Aurora had taken to coming out of the turret tower and would follow him about the house, drooling wherever she went, and Harry had taken to carrying a monogrammed handkerchief in his pocket to clean up after her.
“Sweet dog,” Barty told him one morning.
“She’s mother’s,” Harry answered, rubbing the dog’s head. “Her name is Aurora.”
“Ah, morning light,” Barty mused. “What a fitting name, though a little museful for Lady Maia.”
“I think it’s Auror-ah,” Harry informed him. “I don’t think my mother ever stopped loving Dad.”
“No,” Barty agreed, his eyes softening. “She was gone on him from the first time I met her when she was a second year.”
Harry had tea with his mother later that day. “I have the proposal to the Wizengamot.”
“Yes, you said,” she agreed, setting down her cup. “Where do I sign, darling?”
“Dad wants to see you.”
“Is he making this a condition?” she asked carefully.
“No—” Harry hedged, and she arched an eyebrow at him.
She sighed. “I don’t want your father seeing me this way.”
“He loves you—”
“He loved your brother Jonathan more,” she whispered, only stating the truth. “Otherwise he would have taken you and run.” Tears filled up the corners of her eyes. “Some things have their time, and our time is past.”
“You wouldn’t say that if I—”
“If what?” she demanded, suddenly angry. “If I looked like a girl of seventeen with no scars on my face?” (Harry flinched). “Perhaps I wouldn’t. But this is the reality of my life and you must live with my decisions, Harrogate.”
“Dad wouldn’t care—”
“All men care—”
“Why don’t you try him? Why don’t you let him prove his honor?”
She sighed. “Because after this trial about Magnolia’s attempted rape—which I followed in The Daily Prophet—I’m not sure he has any.”
Harry was devastated. “Don’t say that, Mother. You can’t mean it.”
“He took that horrible boy’s side over yours—over a young maiden’s. It doesn’t matter whether or not I approve of the marriage. Your father has no honor left in him, Harrogate.” She reached forward and grasped the back of his head firmly, drawing their faces together so he was looking her directly into her ocean blue eyes. “He acted without honor and without faith. I cannot forgive him for that even if I could forgive him for what he did to you—which I simply cannot. Now, let me sign your petition and have done with it. James Potter can sign it separately.”
Harry came back with it the next day, rolled up and under his arm. He set it down on a large table and took up a quill and signed his own name with a flourish—Harrogate Gaunt Potter.
His mother looked at him indulgently before taking up her wand and signing her magical signature, still being unable to hold a quill—Maia Persephone Gaunt. “There,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll have Magnolia’s and Uncle Marvolo’s signatures by the end of holidays.”
“And Aunt Aloysia,” Harry agreed, pointing to the place for her signature. “It’s not technically needed because she’s not a Gaunt in any way and Magnolia is not removing her name, but we thought it would be good for form.”
“Hmm,” she hummed, looking over the calligraphy. “I see it is very nicely done. Too bad Roman had to go and kiss you as his price.”
Harry grimaced. “I still haven’t told Magnolia.”
“Is he traipsing around Malfoy Manor this winter?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I certainly hope not.”
It was decided that Magnolia, the Dark Lord, Lady Aloysia, and James Potter would all sign together and that Grimmauld Place would be the best place to do it as Death Eaters wouldn’t be wandering the halls.
Grimmauld Place was now all light and bright colors, barely resembling its earlier incarnation.
Harry had a bonded house elf by the name of Kreacher, who was unhappy that Harry wasn’t a Black, but was pleased he was a pureblood. Kreacher was sent to make tea and cakes while they waited for James to arrive. Magnolia was off inspecting the Master Bedroom to see if there was anything she would wish to change, the Dark Lord perusing the Black Family Tapestry, and Harry looking out the window.
“Look smart,” Lady Aloysia said, coming into the room. “The doorbell just rang.”
Funny, Harry hadn’t even heard it, he was so lost in thought.
Lady Aloysia exited the room, probably to fetch Magnolia, and soon James was shown up by the miserable looking Kreacher.
“Ah, we’re not all here yet,” James greeted.
“My wife and daughter are in the house,” the Dark Lord informed him. “They will be here presently.”
James rubbed his hands together. “You’ve done wonders with the place, Harry.”
“Yes,” Harry agreed. “It was all Aunt Narcissa. She really made it ready for when I graduate in a year and come to live here. Kreacher also likes having only purebloods around.”
“Nasty old house elf,” James Potter agreed, looking about. “Where’s Maia?”
Before Harry could answer, the Dark Lord looked up. “She already signed.” He crossed the room.
James looked at Harry.
“Don’t you know she’s angry at you?” Harry asked his dad.
James sighed. “Yes,” he agreed. “She hasn’t said much on the subject, but she has mentioned it. I had hoped, with the divorce—”
“Well, a divorce isn’t going to cut it,” Harry informed him angrily. “She sees the entire situation as a betrayal of us—”
“Us?”
“Of me and her.” He took a deep breath. “You couldn’t think you could constantly take Jonathan’s side and not have Mum notice, did you? It made it into The Daily Prophet!”
“I changed my statement—”
“Too little, too late,” the Dark Lord intoned, turning back toward the father and son. “I’ve had words with Maia on the subject, on the purity of our house.”
“You have the purity of your house in Harry,” James argued back. “I gave you the purity of your house.”
“You scarred my niece beyond recognition,” the Dark Lord shot back, his slits of ocean blue eyes flashing darker. “She may say it was worth it, but I do not.” His eyes flicked to Harry who was standing by a window. “My niece will never marry, will never have a family, will never walk out in public, and all thanks to you, sir.”
Harry swallowed painfully.
Lady Aloysia appeared with Magnolia in the doorway and the three wizards looked over at them.
Magnolia was the first to sign, her penmanship light and elegant.
The Dark Lord took up the quill next and—surprisingly—signed his name underneath hers as “Lord Voldemort.”
Harry sucked his breath between his teeth at the boldness of it.
James Potter next took up the pen. “Is this what you really want, Harry?” he asked. “Do you want to be family with these people?”
“You ask me that now?” he scoffed. “Sign it, Dad. It’s gotten well beyond that point.” His mind turned back to Violet and he had to suppress a shiver.
James scowled but he signed his name dutifully.
Next, Lady Aloysia reinked the quill and signed her name with a flourish under the Dark Lord’s signature.
Magic was set to seal the signatures and it was done.
Harry felt himself relax, unaware of how tense he was. His dad did that to him sometimes. When tea was served, Harry ate the lemon sandwiches and he barely paid attention to the conversation around him, his eyes instead on Magnolia. She was tapping her middle finger against her teacup in contemplation, looking out the window, the sunlight falling upon her cheek. It flickered.
Harry looked harder.
Her cheek was definitely flickering.
Looking over at Lady Aloysia, he saw that no one was paying attention to them.
He pulled Magnolia away from everyone after James left, and asked, “What’s wrong with your cheek?”
“Wrong?” she asked, clearly lying.
“Your cheek, Magnolia. It’s flickering.”
“Is it?” She was lying again. “Why would it be flickering?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
She reached up and touched his cheek with the back of her fingers. “You must be imagining it, Harrogate. I don’t see why my cheek would flicker. Perhaps it was the way the sunlight caught it.”
Harry looked at her oddly and turned her chin to the side. Her cheek was smooth as it had always been. “Of course,” he murmured. “It was obviously a trick of the light,” he agreed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. My dad makes me a bit mad sometimes.”
She looked up at him calculatingly. “All that talk about your mother is bound to make you tense. You must have been thinking about her, although we look nothing alike.”
Harry thought of his mother’s scarred face, of the black veins that covered it on the entire left side. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. “Yes, that must have been it,” he tried to convince himself. “I’ve clearly lost my head.”
“Clearly, darling,” she agreed with a smile, a slight worry in her eyes. “Think nothing of it.” She breathed out and took his arm, allowing him to lead her out toward the floo. Harry wasn’t certain if he’d be back to Grimmauld Place that winter, but he would take up residence that August once he was seventeen. He was determined to have his mother, Lady Maia Gaunt, with him if it was the last thing he did.
