Harry S. Riddle (Libro 1)

18

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Rating:
explicit
Archive Warnings :
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMonkfish/Non-ConUnderage
Categories:
F/MMultiOther
Fandom:
Harry Potter - JK Rowling
Characters:
Harry PotterVoldemort (Harry Potter)
Additional Tags:
Harry son of VoldemortMoral Ambiguity
Language:
Spanish
Series:
Part 1 of Harry S. Riddle Next Work →
Stats:
Published:2021-01-21Completed:2021-03-29Words:66,773Chapters:20/20Comments:fifteenKudos:73Bookmarks:6Hits:2,896
Harry S. Riddle (Book 1)
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Chapter 18 : Chapter 18
Notes:
Hello.

In this chapter I use information from Wikipedia about the Arhuacos and from a colleague who worked closely with the Indians of the Sierra Nevada, but unfortunately I do not know them, except when I saw one from afar in Santa Marta. If any of the Colombians who read this story have more knowledge about the Arhuacos, I will gladly receive it.

For foreigners, the use of Indians is because I consider that in a story like Harry Potter's, indigenous people have a place; They handle their ritual sorcery, which is what I refer to in this chapter, but, due to my lack of knowledge, I prefer not to delve too deeply and avoid offending the Iku (Arhuacos). As a last point, just to explain, the bareque houses that are going to be mentioned are a neighborhood of Santa Marta, not the home of the Indian (I say this in case there is confusion about this). The Indians of the Sierra Nevada live up to the top of the mountain range, the man leads Voldemort and Harry to a muggle place. Unfortunately, in many places in Colombia's cities the people are so poor that they survive in bare houses, without proper aqueducts and with barely enough daily living. What is described is not a remote town, but a marginal area of the city.

Everything I mention about Colombia in the following chapters is real. We are happy people, but we have gone through immense difficulties, including a war that does not end.

Chapter Text
One constant about Dad was his dark clothes, seeing him in a white shirt, light blue jeans and brown sandals was as shocking to me as it was to the rest of the castle. Indifferent to the cold, Daddy rolled up his shirt sleeves.

"You're going to freeze," I told him, hanging on his arm, my trunk was transfigured by Dad into a Muggle suitcase, his was the same.

He didn't answer me.

"We're leaving," and he looked at Bella and Barty, his highest generals, with the portkey in his hand, a crocodile figurine. They know their orders, when I return I expect optimal results.

-Yes my lord.

The last I saw of England was the two hooded wizards kneeling in the throne room. International portkey trips were annoying, as was spinning around in a swivel chair without breaks. Out of inertia, I clung to dad, who, like on every trip, held me firmly with both of his arms, pressing me against his body. I loved Daddy's small, sporadic, affectionate gestures; they were a reminder that that guy with the manic look had me, to a certain extent, in high regard.

Thanks to dad I didn't fall when I landed on Colombian soil. The first thing that hit me about the nation was atrocious heat, followed by the sound of ocean waves and the smell of salty breezes.

“I told you to take off that jacket,” Dad admonished me in a monotone.

—What would I know! —I responded sullenly, almost roughly ripping off my jacket in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment. Dad hit me on the head for my tone. Sorry.