Elysia Riddle [A Harry Potter Fan Fiction]

Chapter Seven ~ The Crimson Train

"Elysia?" said Dumbledore as he entered the room.

I was currently sitting on the ground, thinking endlessly about what the hat had said... Find my loyalties? I had come to admit that I had a begrudging respect for my Father, for though he was utterly evil, he had managed to take over the entire Wizarding World.

I could see the power that I would bear if I joined his Death Eaters... I would be their leader; I was Voldemort's heir after all. But what about the First Child that Dumbledore had stolen? She was the heir, wasn't she? Perhaps not...

"Elysia!" repeated Dumbledore, gaining my attention once more.

"I came to ask you something, sir." I coughed, looking up into his blue eyes.

I couldn't help but feel the sting of the word 'sir'. I would have to pretend that he was a mere teacher to me, rather than my own father. A tiny voice in the back of my head told me that, with Voldemort I would never have to deny my heritage ever again...

"Please, do ask." he said, his voice merry as he sucked on another sherbet lemon.

"What was the point of all of those challenges? What were they protecting?" I questioned, looking at him inquisitively.

"Ahhh... Only natural of you to ask, Elysia. They guarded a famous stone, the Philosopher's Stone, in fact. You would have read about it, I expect." he declared, looking at me quizzically.

"Created by Nicholas Flamel?" I gaped, realising now the importance of the stone to... Quirrel?

"Indeed." he replied, patiently waiting for my next statement.

"But... what would Quirrel want with it?" I blurted, confused as to why such a young man would concern himself with immortality.

Dumbledore's placid features failed him momentarily as I asked my question, so I assumed that the answer was not a simple one.

"It was not Quirrel who wanted the stone, it was Voldemort,” he answered, his twinkling eyes looking into mine.

"So... Voldemort hired Quirrel?" I continued, hoping to get to the bottom of it.

"As you know, when Voldemort attempted to murder Harry Potter, his spell deflected and he was left without a body. His soul remained, however." 

I tried not to gasp too often as the revelations erupted from Dumbledore's lips, yet it was all so surprising. Her father had survived? Surely not...

"While in exile, Voldemort found young Quirrel and… attached himself to Quirell's very soul. Quirrel had been planning the capture of the stone for almost an entire year, but young Harry Potter stopped him." he continued, his eyes merry at the mention of Harry.

"So, what happened to my Father!" I urged, now intensely curious.

"Well... Harry has an ancient protection, given to him by his mother when she sacrificed her life for him. So, when he touched Quirrel, it burned him, due to his connection with Voldemort" 

I couldn't help but notice the distrust in Dumbledore's eyes as I revealed my curiosity for my Father. It was hardly unnatural that I be curious for him, after all, we do share blood... My eyes crept up to look at the Sorting Hat's box, sitting silently on top of the bookcase.

The face that flew past me as I entered the room that held the Mirror of Erised, was that my Father's soul? Retrieving myself from my deep thoughts, I looked up to see Dumbledore’s scrutinizing face gazing down on to me.

"Elysia, I want you to know, that I am your father also. Voldemort will give you no happiness, follow your own path, not the path he forged for you." Dumbledore said, his voice calm and reassuring.