Dark Daughter: A Harry Potter FanFic
Aldora Merope Nagas is the daughter of Tom Marvolo Riddle. All she knows of her mother is that she was from the Black family. She also knows that she was born to become her father's servant: the one he could trust above all others.
Raised by the Malfoys, Aldora grows to hate the life that has been forced upon her, and eagerly awaits the day that a letter will arrive to set her free.
She has long, straight, dark brown hair and greenish-blue eyes.
Once the train had stopped, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and I joined the throng of people in the corridor. By now my stomach was doing back flips, and Draco looked just as nervous as I felt. Goyle, on the other hand, had the same blank expression as he usually did. Crabbe was busy staring at an enormous man with wild hair and a bushy beard, who was calling "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" We followed the man down a slippery path, shivering in the chill night air. The night was pitch-black and there was nothing to be seen, which was lucky because we were all concentrating hard on where we were placing our feet, in an effort not to fall over. All of a sudden we rounded a bend, and gasps of delight came from the crowd. Ahead of us was a huge, black lake and beyond rose a high mountain. Atop the mountain, lights burning in the windows, was the silhouette of a magnificent castle. I could have stared at this amazing sight for hours, bathing in the starlight, but we were all forced to tear our eyes away to clamber into little wooden boats. I followed Draco and his cronies to the nearest one. Once settled, the giant man bellowed, "FORWARD!" and we were free to gawp again.
The other side of the lake ended at a cliff. We sailed through a curtain of ivy, traveling down a long, dark tunnel, until we reached a dimly-lit, underground harbour. With groans and complaints of numb limbs, everyone departed the boats. The huge man, (whom Draco informed me was named Hagrid) led us up a flight of stone steps until, at last, we stopped at majestic oak doors. Hagrid knocked three times, and the doors opened to a stern looking witch whose black hair was tied up into a tight bun. She led us into an spacious hall, introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, told us about the Houses, and then left.
Draco turned to me. "Slytherin, here we come."
"Draco, I..." But at that moment a group of ghosts drifted through the wall, causing several people to scream. They were translucent and silvery and in the middle of a discussion when they noticed us. One of them, wearing tights, smiled and greeted us. Professor McGonagall's sharp voice rang out. "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Then to us, "Now, form a line and follow me." I took a step and realised that my legs had turned to jelly. Forcing them forward, I followed the others into the Great Hall. Inside were four long tables that seated all the other students. At the far end was the High Table, where all the teachers were sitting. In the tallest chair at the very centre sat Albus Dumbledore. The only man my father had ever feared. His hair and beard were silver, and long enough to tuck into his belt. His half moon specs shone in the light coming from thousands of candles that hovered in mid-air. I heard a rather bossy sounding voice say, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History." Wondering what on earth she was talking about, I glanced up - my jaw dropped as my eyes rested on a sky studded with dazzling stars.
Professor McGonagall marched right up to the High Table and placed a stool before it. On top of the stool she put an old, frayed and rather faded wizard's hat. The hall around us became silent as everyone focused on the hat. A rip opened at the bottom and the hat began to sing a song about the four houses into which we were all about to be sorted. I couldn't concentrate, though - my mind was in turmoil.
I didn't want to be placed in Slytherin - I was not like the Malfoys, or the Crabbes or Goyles. They had all been in Slytherin. But if I wasn't placed in Slytherin, what would Draco think? And Mr and Mrs Malfoy? Especially if I was placed in Gryffindor... then they'd know I was different. Draco might hate me, and life at Malfoy Manor would be unbearable.
But maybe I would be placed in Slytherin. After all, I was the daughter of the most powerful and evil dark wizard who ever lived. My mother was one of the Black family, who were almost always in Slytherin. I highly doubted my father would have chosen a woman who wasn't in Slytherin. Maybe my blood alone would be enough to secure me a place. And then I would be doomed to a life surrounded by people who were mean, selfish and power-hungry.
The hat came to the end of it's song, and the students erupted into applause. Professor McGonagall began counting names and one by one, pale and terrified first-years went and tried on the hat.
"RAVENCLAW!" After every student was assigned to a house, a storm of applause rose from a corresponding table.
"Finnigan, Seamus!" A sandy-haired boy was sat on the stool for almost a minute before the Sorting Hat announced, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Granger, Hermione!" The girl who I had heard talking about the bewitched ceiling skipped up, and shoved the hat onto her bushy brown hair. "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Malfoy, Draco!" Draco sauntered up to the stool, looking very calm and self-assured - the complete opposite of what I was feeling. No sooner had it come within an inch of his head than the Sorting Hat confirmed what I already knew: "SLYTHERIN!" Draco strutted off to join Crabbe and Goyle, a wide grin on his face. A "Moon" was sorted, and then...
My mouth dry, I urged my feet forwards. Looking up, I found the eyes of Albus Dumbledore. They twinkled as they focused on me. He surveyed me closely, staring at me so I felt my face flush. Turning my back on the Headmaster, I picked up the hat and took my place on the stool. I looked over to the right, at the Slytherin table. Draco was smiling at me encouragingly. I drew in a deep, calming breath. And put the hat on my head.
"Aaaaah," said a small voice in my ear. "Now, that is a surprise. The daughter of the Dark Lord, eh? How interesting... Well. Of course, your father was a Slytherin. You possess many of the qualities that he had. Cunning, determination, a strong desire for success. Intelligence and wit enough for a Ravenclaw. However, there is also bravery, loyalty and a strong sense of morality in your heart. And conflict; you do not know what house you would rather be in. I think..." I held my breath.
I took off the hat and placed it on the stool. On shaky legs, I made my way over to the Gryffindor table, and took a seat next to Hermione Granger. Harry Potter and the Weasley boy were both looking at me with odd expressions on their faces as I sat down. After all, they knew about my connection to the blatantly Slytherin Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore was also looking at me, with a slight frown on his face. Over on the opposite side of the hall, Draco's face wore an expression of shock.
After me, Pansy Parkinson became a Slytherin, Padma and Parvati Patil became a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, and Sally-Anne Perks became a Hufflepuff.
Immediately, whispering filled the hall as Harry Potter stepped up to the Sorting Hat. He took his place, and the noise ceased suddenly. Everything was silent while the Sorting Hat made it's choice. At one point, I thought I saw Harry muttering, his eyes shut tight, but the next second the hat had shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry's face broke into a wide grin just as our table burst into the loudest applause yet. Everyone, including myself, stood up to shake Harry's hand. He sat next to me, opposite the ghost with the tights. While Harry's attention turned to those who were still to be sorted, my eyes settled on him. So, THIS was the boy who destroyed my father. Should I have felt dislike? Hate? Perhaps, but I felt only curiosity.
Only four were left. "Thomas, Dean!" became a Gryffindor. "Turpin, Lisa!" was pronounced a Ravenclaw and then it was the turn of the newest Weasley, who had turned a delicate shade of green. He needn't have worried, though - the hat immediately yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" Another boy, also with red hair and freckles (apparently an older brother) said, "Well done, Ron, excellent," as Ron took his seat.
Finally, "Zabini, Blaise", was made a Slytherin and the Sorting was over.
The Hat and stool were cleared away, and after Dumbledore had said a few words ("nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak") the golden dishes before us were suddenly filled with a rich variety of food. Suddenly realising how hungry I was, I dug in.
By keeping quiet, I hoped that I would be spared from partaking in the conversation, which soon turned to families. "What about you?" Ron asked, jabbing a chicken leg in my direction. "How come you're a Gryffindor if you're Malfoy's sister?"
"Adopted sister. The Malfoys took me in when I was a baby. I grew up with Draco."
"So how come you're not like him?"
"I don't know. " By now, I was keen to shut him up, or to turn the conversation from me. Luckily, I noticed Harry had a hand to his forehead. "What's wrong?" I asked him.
"Nothing - Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"
I looked to where Harry was pointing. A young and scared-looking man in a large purple turban was quite obviously trying and failing to ignore a dark figure who was speaking to him. I knew that dark figure. I answered for Percy. "Severus Snape. He teaches Potions, but he's always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." Percy gave me a curious look.
"Yes, Quirrell's job. How do you know?"
"Snape is a friend of the Malfoys. He visits often."
"It must be nice to live in luxury," grunted Ron.
"I suppose, but I spent most of my life in the kitchens with the house elf. I preferred his company." My reply had the desired effect of shutting him up, and Ron looked back down at his plate, now filled with strawberry trifle.
The puddings at last disappeared, and Dumbledore gave a speech telling us that the Forest and third-floor corridor were forbidden, the Quidditch trails would soon be beginning, and the caretaker, Mr Filch, wanted everyone to know that no magic was to be used in the corridors. Then finally, at long, long last, we were free to go to bed. The Gryffindor first years wearily followed Percy Weasley up staircases, behind tapestries and through doors. I barely noticed when we entered the Gryffindor common room, and it was with relief that I stumbled up the stairs to the girls' dormitory and found my bed. Before I could collapse onto the sheets, however, I saw a note on my pillow.
I would like to see you tomorrow before lessons. The entrance to my office is located on the first floor, at the stone gargoyle. The password is lemon drop.
Suddenly feeling considerably less relaxed and drowsy, I changed into my pajamas, climbed into bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.