Nerida Riddle, daughter of the Dark Lord - REWRITING IN PROGRESS

Nerida Riddle, daughter of the Dark Lord - Chapter 3

Firstly, thank you for reading!! Secondly, just a little note I forgot to inculde while writing - Vincent and Gregory are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who Nerida grew up with. Please comment! Thank you!

My father was in there, sitting down at the small oak table in the centre of the stone chamber. He bekoned for him to sit down, and my mother pushed me into a seat and sat down myself. He told me everything, from why they disguised my true identity from me (so that I could live a peaceful childhood without getting unwanted attention from the Daily Prophet and other wizards and witches), to why they had decided to tell me now (it was the 'coming of age' for each of the young wizards and witches who would be attending Hogwarts this year). I had questions, and plenty of them, but I had to wait until my father had finished talking. When he lent back in his chair and commented that I might need a few minutes to process everything, I started with my questions.

"What is a coming of age, father?" He chuckled, then pushed his chair back, stood up, and starting pacing the room.

"I was silly to leave that out. You must be aware, of course, that once a young witch or wizard reaches a certain age, they stop living in the North Wing of the Malfoy Manor, and instead move to the East or West Wing, to live in their parent's rooms. That is simply a child's coming of age; a ceremony only honoured by the pure-blood Death Eater circle. A child only comes of age two months before they leave for Hogwarts for the first time." He stopped pacing the room and gave me my Hogwarts letter. My mother squeezed my hand.

"Open it," she whispered in my ear. The thick parchment felt solid in my hands, and the envelope fell to the floor as I exitedly unfolded the letter and read it. My father leaned forwards.

"You will live in the Royal apartments with us in the school holidays, until you are old enough to be married. Having an heir is very important." I nodded at these words. Everything was so hard to take in.

A week later:

"This way children," my aunt Narcissa called out as she led the way to Ollivander's wand shop. I clutched tightly onto my bag with my robes and books in as we wove through the crowds towards the dilapidated shop. In total there were six of us, my mother, my aunt Narcissa, Vincent, who is a Death Eater's son, Gregory, another Death Eater's son, Draco, and myself. As we opened the door to Ollivander's, a bell tinkled somewhere in the depths of the shop. There were lots of shelves of dusty rectangular boxes that I knew contained wands. As I tried to take it all in, Ollivander himself appeared. Introductions took place, and he inquired, politely, on the state of my mother's and aunt's wands. His measuring tape measured Vincent and Gregory first, and he found wands for them very quickly. Draco spent quite a while waving different wands around, and when he found one that sparks flew out of, he demanded a more powerful one, but Narcissa gave him one of her looks. Meanwhile, a wand enclosed in a dusty glass dome caughter my attention. It was defintely a wand, but it was knarled and crooked like no other I had seen before. I walked over to the grubby dome, which seemed to have been sealed for centuries, and placed a hand against the cold surface. The wand seemed to be willing me to pick it up.

"Miss. Riddle? I need to measure you for your wand, Miss. Riddle." I spun round, and realised that it was my turn to try out wands. I stepped forward, and the magical measuring tape started measuring all my limbs, fingers, thumbs, hips. Mr. Ollivander conjured up a pile of boxes, and handed me wand after wand. Nothing happened with any of them. No red and green sparks flying out the end.

Ollivander sighed as the last wand from the third pile of boxes produced no result.

"A tricky customer? Not to worry, the wand chooses the witch, Miss. Riddle." He conjured up another pile of boxes, but my mind was still on the wand that lay enclosed inside the glass dome.

"Mr. Ollivander? The wand in the glass dome over there...is it for sale?"

"Not for one so young, Miss. Riddle, it's far too powerful. An old medieval wand, been here for hundreds of centuries, and it's never chosen anyone. Never has...and you're far too young to get anything worthwhile out of a wand that powerful. A couple of years ago I had a man ask me if it was as powerful as the deathstick, and it's not, but it's possibly on the most powerful wands in the wizarding world today that has never chosen a witch or wizard in known history. Now, Miss. Riddle, if I could ask your to try this wand, it's twelve and a half inches, with a core of-"

"Mr. Ollivander, I'd really like to try that wand, if you don't mind." He was about to refuse, but upon the cold command of my mother, he hurried over to the dome, and unsealed it, handing me the wand. I took hold of it, and it really was very crooked. Ollivander seemed to know what I was think, because he croaked:

"Mediaval wands were tradtionally very crooked." I nodded, and turned the wand over in my hand a couple of times, revelling in the warmth that spread from my fingertips as I gripped it, before finally whipping it down through the air. I took a few steps back. Black fire had spurted out of the tip of this wand, then vanished in midair. It took me a couple of seconds to recover from the shock.

"I think I'll take this wand, Mr. Ollivander." He was about to refuse again, but my mother reached inside her robes for her wand, and before she could do anything, he agreed. We left the shop five minutes later, and walked towards Eyelops Owl Emporium.

"I'll treat each of you to an owl, so you don't have to use those awful Hogwarts ones to write to us." My mother smiled at me, in particular. I smiled back, still not quite sure of whether black fire coming out of my wand was usual. Vincent, Gregory, and Draco had only got sparks.