The Prophecy Can't Be Foretold; a Tom Riddle Fan Fiction

7

I exited the car with my mother and made my way to the manor I hadn't seen in a year. The familiar old house loomed before me, but it felt different somehow. The vibrant warmth of previous visits was now a distant memory.

As we entered, I frowned slightly.

The stagnant air hit me heavily, and the door creaked ominously as Mum closed it behind us. It echoed through the house, now far emptier than before. The hallways, once filled with laughter and light, were now shrouded in darkness. Faint outlines of furniture were barely visible in the dim light that seeped through the heavy curtains.

The famous big clock at the end of the hallway ticked loudly, but that was seemingly the only sound that filled the eerily silent house.

Memories of last Christmas flooded back, when we had this beautiful christmas. The house, once a vibrant home, now felt like a shell of its former self. The life it once held had seemingly been drained away, leaving only shadows and echoes.

I turned to my mother, who looked down with a sorrowful expression.

"Mum... What happened?" I spoke softly, my voice echoing in the emptiness.

Her eyes held a sadness I had never seen before as she took my hands in her own. Her touch was gentle as always, but it was tainted by the darkness that had overtaken my father and her.

"Sweetheart, I know you can tell the difference from last time you were here. How quiet and dark it's become," she said, pausing to brush a stray lock from my forehead. Her touch was tender and reassuring, yet her eyes betrayed her worry.

"I don't know when it started, but I am well aware you noticed during the summer. How he couldn't do as much as before, how he seemed weaker than ever. He's been sick for so long, baby. Doctors know nothing and..." Her voice trailed off, choked with emotion. It felt just like last time he was sick, except now it was so much worse.

Mother's POV
1954

My beautiful daughter looked up at me, confusion and concern etched into her features. "But why does that make the house so sad?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I almost cried then, struggling to hold back my tears. I sighed deeply, feeling the weight of all the months that had passed. "The house isn't just a building with walls and windows. It's more like... a reflection of the people who live in it. When your dad was well, he filled this place with so much love and laughter. It was bright and full of life because he was."

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady for my daughter. She couldn't see her mother cry.

"But right now, when he is not feeling well, it's like the house is feeling that too. It's quieter and darker because the house feels that your father is quiet and not well. It won't be forever, baby, and I promise that soon the house will be better again. We'll just have to be patient and take care of each other."

Caliana's POV

I knew that Dad had been sick before, and that the house had come back to life after he got better. Christmas last year was so merry and bright. Yet right now, it felt like stepping into a sad black-and-white movie, waiting for everyone's favorite character to get killed.

Christmas Eve was cold. It wasn't because of the snow outside or the fireplace that refused to start, but because both my mother and I knew that my father wasn't going to make it. We sat by his bed, holding one of his hands each. I couldn't cry. Not a single tear fell.

Mum had brought a doctor, who placed the time of Dad's death at 2:09 AM, Mum's birthday, September second.

She cried, and a lot. We didn't even get to celebrate Christmas like every year. I was sure that every year to come, we wouldn't celebrate it either. The light of the house, the light of our lives, had just been extinguished.

"My condolences, Miss Beaufort. He was a wonderful man. Always knew what to do and what to say. He would have made an amazing minister someday. I'm sorry to see him go like this," said Archer Evermonde, the current Minister of Magic. He had worked with my father for over thirty years and had always joined us for his birthday and mine when I was younger.

"It's alright. I just hope that my mother will be okay," I said, glancing back into my parents' bedroom where she sobbed over my father's lifeless body, refusing to let the coroner take him away. I understood why; if it were my own husband, I would never let him go. I'd probably join him myself, to be quite frank.

"Good evening, Nadia. Could you possibly come over soon? I told you at school how my father wasn't doing well, like when I was little, except worse. He passed at two in the morning. I really need a friend right now. Mum isn't doing too great either. Hope I'm not ruining your Christmas like this. I'm sorry."

I sent the owl to Nadia, and not even two hours later, I heard a knock at the front door. The butler opened it, and my best friend rushed in, wrapping her arms tightly around me once she found me on the couch in the living room.

"Of course you're not ruining my Christmas, silly. I am so sorry that he passed away, beautiful. I am so sorry." She jumped next to me on the couch, holding me tightly.

I didn't enjoy hugs, but I would let her hug me a thousand times.

We spent the next few days together, trying to bring some life back into the house that had become so dark. It worked, somewhat.

I hadn't seen my mother properly since Dad's death, but I brought food to her room and always found an empty plate back. So I knew she was still eating at least.

Nadia and I baked some cookies for New Year's Eve and decided to have a couple of friends over for the night: Ambrose Zabini and Rabastan Lestrange. Both Nadia and I decided not to tell them about my father's death just yet.

We stayed in the garden, enjoying some Muggle fireworks and mostly magical ones. It was a night where I managed to enjoy myself.

I was glad Nadia didn't judge me for how I was coping with his death. Most daughters would have cried, but I just couldn't. I wanted to go on with my life. Or maybe I didn't want to be like my mother.

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A/N

My apologies for the sad chapter, from here it becomes a little more interesting so I hope you'll stick around for itLove you lotsies