Fear of a Name

Chapter Four: The Boy Who Lived

"You go and get your things. I'll be waiting for you in the Leaky Cauldron," Mother snapped, making me flinch. "Don't talk to anyone unless you have to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mother."
As she walked off, I saw that a boy, who looked about the same age as me, had been watching and listening to our conversation. He had untidy, black hair and bright green eyes. He was tall and thin, although he looked well fed, and as our eyes met, he smiled at me. I didn't smile back, because I knew who he was, and if Father or Mother had known I'd smiled at Harry Potter, I would be in big trouble.

I hurried off to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions to get my school robes. As I walked in, I heard a bell ring in the back of the shop, and a lady, who I assumed was Madam Malkin, came to greet me. Her face paled as she saw who I was, and she stuttered, "H-Hogwarts, Miss Riddle? G-got the lot here. P-please come into the back t-to be fitted for your r-robes."
I hated the fact people were so afraid of me, but, remembering my father's warning about rethinking his decision of allowing me to go to Hogwarts, I kept quiet, and went with her to get my robes.

I stood on the stool and waited as she measured me, but when she started to roll up my left sleeve, I pulled my arm away quickly, remembering the words that had been cut into it by my psychopath of a mother.
"Don't do that," I snapped, but I felt tears starting to form in my eyes, and looked away quickly, hoping she hadn't noticed. I felt her pull her hand away, and I looked back at her; she was busy doing something with a robe.

She handed it to me when she was done, and I was sure the look in her eyes had changed from fear to a mixture of concern and pity. I pushed these thoughts from my head, payed, and walked out, almost knocking over someone in the process. I looked up and glared — it was Harry Potter again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said to me, "I'm Harry Potter, what's your name?"
"Ivory Riddle. Now, I would appreciate it if you got out of my way."
I hated having to talk to people like that, but I knew what Mother and Father would do to me if they knew I was nice to someone in public, especially the Boy Who Lived.
"Riddle? As in Voldemort's daughter?"
"The one and only."
"Then — then your father killed my parents?"
"Yes," I said, a hint of sadness in my voice. I was born just over a year before it happened, but I knew the story well. My father had told me when I was four. I walked away, feeling sad that people thought me to be as cruel as him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I just need—" I consulted my list again "—a wand."
I walked into Ollivander's wand shop. It was old and dark, with wand boxes piled on shelves, tables and stools.
"Hello?" I called. Nothing happened. "Hello?!"
A ladder slid into sight with a man, who I could only assume was Mr Ollivander, stood on one of the higher rungs.
"I wondered when I would be seeing you, Miss Riddle."
I was shocked. This man had just spoken to me with no fear in his voice or his eyes. He handed me a wand.

"Yew and dragon heartstring, twelve-and-a-half inches, fairly supple."
I took it and waved it at a lightbulb, which smashed immediately.
"No, it seems that one is not the one for you," he said, taking the wand from me and putting it back in its box. "Then how about this? Willow, with a unicorn hair as the core, nine-and-a-quarter inches, surprisingly springy."
I took it and waved it at the door, which was blown off its hinges. Some passers by looked into the shop in surprise, saw me, then hurried away.

The wand in my hand was replaced by wand after wand, until finally —
"Alder wood with a phoenix feather core, ten-and-three-quarter inches, unyielding."
I waved it, and a bunch of flowers came out of the end, which seemed to please Mr Ollivander greatly.
"That will be thirteen Galleons, please."
An idea came into my mind as I paid. I waved my brand new wand, said "reparo", and allowed myself a small smile as the lightbulb fixed itself, the door flew back onto its hinges, and everything else I'd destroyed returned to how it was before I'd entered the shop. Then I left, hurrying back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Mother, hoping she wouldn't be too angry that I had taken at least two hours to get all of my things.

"What took you so long?" Mother demanded, pointing her wand at me discreetly.
"I-it took me a while t-to find my wand."
Sneering, she grabbed my arm and disaparated, landing at the bottom of the stairs at Malfoy Manor, before shoving me into my prison cell of a room, and throwing my new books, robes, and cauldron in after me. She locked the door with a spell I had never come across before so that I couldn't get out, and I heard her walking up the stairs, then silence.

I took one of the books from my cauldron — Moste Potente Potions — opened it on a random page, and started to read.
'Wolfsbane Potion. This potion does not cure, but eases the symptoms of lycanthropy, allowing one to hold onto their mental faculties post-transformation, which would otherwise not be possible. Characteristics: a faint blue smoke when successfully completed and an unpleasant taste. Adding sugar, or anything else to make it taste nicer, will counter the effects of this potion, thus rendering it ineffective.'

I flicked to another page and read again.
'Veritaserum. Veritaserum is a truth-telling potion. It can be mixed in with almost any drink, and just three drops is enough to force the drinker to tell the complete truth to any question put to him/her, according to whatever the drinker perceives to be true. This potion can be resisted using an antidote or occlumency. Characteristics: a clear, colourless and odourless potion that is almost indistinguishable from water.'
"I'll have to be careful of that one," I muttered. "I'm sure Mother or Father will try to use it on me at some point."

I read late into the night, learning my set books off by heart; I felt sure the knowledge would come in useful someday. When I finally fell asleep, I had dreams of werewolves, brewing potions, and attending classes at Hogwarts. I rolled over in my sleep, a smile on my face, as I dreamt about the place that was soon to be my home.

(A/n: I know Bellatrix was in Azkaban and Voldemort was practically non-existent when this story is set, and in all the memories I am giving Ivory, but this isn't the actual story, so I've changed it.)