Being His Daughter

Dreaming

 I was laying on hard and cold floor, my arms slightly itchy, when the wind blew. Wait. Wind?

I gasped and sat up in panic. The Forbidden Forest again. I knew it was another dream, so father had to be around somewhere. Suddenly a whole flood of memories entered my mind in waves. Going into the trap door, the Devils Snare, chess, Ron, Hermione, Quirrell, Harry. Harry. Harry! Was he alive? What happened after I was stunned? I internally gasped. I was stunned! That bloody bastard stunned me!

"Sierra? Get off the ground already," my father said. I looked up quickly and shot up onto my feet.

"Sorry, sorry," I muttered. "Father, what happened?"

"I failed," he said quietly. "I failed!"

I flinched away at his rage filled voice. "What do you mean?" I asked. "H- Potter. He survived?" My voice was small, fearful of the answer.

"Yes," he sighed. "He is alive."

Disappointment hit me like a truck. No! Our plans! We were supposed to rule the world together. I hated myself, though. I hated myself because there was still something inside me that was relieved that Harry was alive.

I looked up and father was staring straight into my eyes. I panicked and looked down at the ground quickly, knowing he knew Legilimency. I was afraid of his reaction if he found out I had truly befriended his greatest enemy. The plan was for me to pretend, after all. I mentally face palmed myself.

"Sierra," he said lowly. "Look at me."I gulped. He knew. I didn't look up. "Look at me." His voice was getting louder by the second, and I could feel his patience thinning, like a dam about to burst. The calm before the storm. "Look at me!" he roared and I jumped, looking up at him but staring straight at his eyebrow.

"Yes?" I asked. He grabbed my chin and forcefully turned my head, making me look into his eyes. I didn't know how else to avoid doing so, so I shut my eyes quickly.

"Sierra!" he growled angrily.

"Yes?" I asked again, my voice coated with innocence. Anyone would've labeled me as mad if they saw the way I was acting in from of Lord freakin' Voldemort, but I didn't care.

"Open your eyes and look at me," he demanded. "You're hiding something." Oh you don't say?

I shook my head frantically, keeping my eyes closed. "No I'm not," I insisted. "My eyes are just tired."

"Sweetie, you're a very bad liar," he said. I huffed.

"I can be a good liar when I want to," I muttered. He chucked lightly.

"Fine. Now look me in the eye before I make you." I knew how he was going to make me: the imperious curse. I groaned. I was going to have to do it one way or the other.

Right when I was about to open my eyes, a light, carefree feeling washed over me, and I realized he had already put the spell over me. I opened my eyes instantly, without really meaning to, and my fathers grip on my chin tightened as he stared into my eyes, more like my soul. I saw flashes of memories run through my brain. Like short clips and flashes of photos, almost. There were Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I talking, laughing, and playing around. Sometimes we were with Hagrid or the Weasley twins. Harry had grabbed my hand and I had yanked back, but still smiled. I was looking out into the distance while Harry smiled over at me. I hadn't even known about that. Then there was Harry, sitting and not looking at me while I analyzed him, probably knowing the entire friendship was wrong. It ended with us walking into the room where Quirrell awaited with the mirror, me casting a sad look over at Harry.