Tom's Riddle

What if Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange had a daughter? Would she be accepted in the wizarding world or will she be prosecuted for her parents crimes?


5. Mum

“Ginny... will you please get the pensieve?” Harry asked quietly. She quickly walked over to an oak cupboard under a window, opening the side door she carefully lifted out a shallow stone basin, with what seemed to be ancient symbols carved into it. In it appeared to be a swirling cloud of silver, a substance unlike liquid, gas, or solid. “What is that?” I whispered, intrigued, as Ginny gently placed the dish on the dining table. Harry looked at me curiously, before striding over to the table and motioning for me to join him. “This is a pensieve, a gift from Minerva McGonagall; it allows you to review memories in the third person, to re-live things that have already happened. And I believe that we are about to re-live your mothers innermost thoughts and memories.”

“My mother?” I asked incredulously. “I don’t even know who she is!”
“No... you don’t...”  Harry said softly, uncorking one of the bottles. “But we’re about to find out.” As he tipped the bottle a silver strand floated out and into the bowl below. Before I knew what was happening Harry had grabbed my elbow and plunged us face first into the basin.

June 17th 1997

It was like diving into a black hole: icy cold and pitch black. I landed on my feet besides Harry in front of an intimidating pair of wrought iron gates, through which a long drive was visible, curtained by two eight foot high hedges which followed the drive to a medieval manor, half hidden in shadow. Two cloaked figures were whispering to each other about a foot away from us, after thirty seconds of talking, the shorter of the two strode towards the gates, and to my surprise, walked straight through them as if they were nothing more than air. The figure stalked down the drive way and Harry indicated that we should follow, before ducking through the gate himself. I quickly followed him, rushing after the shrouded person. As we drew closer to the house, a brilliant white peacock jumped out of the hedge to my right, making me gasp in surprise, “bloody Malfoys...” Harry muttered under his breath. I glanced at him curiously; he evidently seemed to know where we were. As we approached the house, the person we were following brought out a stick from their pocket (similar to the one that harry had had earlier) and pointed it towards a pair of heavy oak wood doors which flew open. They then stalked into the manor as if they owned the place. Once inside, the hood was thrown back, revealing a face I knew so well: as it was almost exactly the same as my own, even down to her hair. “Mum...?” My voice shook as the realisation hit that my own mother was standing before me. Before I had time to ask what was going on, she took off again, going through door after door, leading us deeper into the house than I thought possible. Just as she was about to go through another pair of oak wood doors, a voice stopped her, followed by a man, appearing out of the shadows. “Bellatrix!”
“Severus...” She replied, and I could clearly hear the loathing in her voice.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” The greasy haired main spat out.
“I need to speak with Him, it’s urgent!”
“Everything’s always urgent with you Bellatrix!” He mocked; cocking his head to one side he surveyed her carefully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, since anyone’s seen you. What could possibly be so important, that you need to disturb the Dark Lord at this hour?” With a look of contempt at him, she swept her cloak off, revealing a small but obvious bump on her stomach.  “This!” She said with a snarling hiss.


Before I could grasp what was happening, Harry grasped my elbow and pulled me upwards, we flew (and I mean literally flew) until we emerged from the pensieve. My legs buckled beneath me and I collapsed onto the pale blue carpet. "Is she..." Ginny started, but a glance from Harry seemed to confirm her thoughts. "Oh God..."
I let them sit in silence for a moment before I grew impatient at my lack of knowledge. "Excuse me, but what exactly is going on? You both look like you've seen death! Will someone please explain what is happening!" My voice rose from a whisper to a shout as my panic grew. "You drag me inside your house, tell me I'm a parslemouth, and then make me stick my face in a bowl of 'memories' and won't tell me what the hell is going on-" my voice broke before I could finish and I sank back to the floor, shaking slightly.
A child's voice floated down the stairs and Ginny hurried out, barely glancing at me as she left. Harry shot a slightly panicked look at me before standing up slowly and speaking. "I'm sorry, this must be incredibly confusing for you... I think that you should read your mother's letter, I hope that that will clear this up..."

I carefully picked up the envelope, it had only one sentence written on it; 'open when you're eleven' I never had. With trembling fingers I turned it over and broke the wax seal, which I now realised had a miniature snake embossed into it. Inside were two sheets of aged and slightly yellowing, parchment. I gazed in wonder at the elegant script, my mother's writing, I was filled with a sense of longing before I hardened my heart and began to read. 

'My dearest daughter...'

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