Fear of a Name

Chapter Five: The Thing Beneath the Hood

The next four days passed so fast that I didn't have time to register the scars and bruises I was getting, and before I knew it, the first of September had arrived.

I woke up early that morning, magically brushed and braided my hair into a French plait, and magically brushed my teeth. I then padded over to my cauldron and thought of an outfit. I clicked my fingers and I was instantly wearing a long, green dress with long sleeves and golden stitching, black lacy gloves and black ballet flats. I packed all my new books, my cauldron, and the rest of my school supplies into a purse that had an Undetectable Extension Charm and a Feather-Light Charm, then conjured up a mirror using my wand. Even though I didn't need it and could do wandless magic, I still loved the feel of it in my left hand. I also knew that the spells that I was going to be taught at Hogwarts would need wands, because very few witches and wizards can perform magic without the aid of a magical item.

I looked in the mirror at all the scars and bruises on my face, a particularly nasty purplish-yellow bruise that was residing on my cheek catching my eye. I'd got that when Mother had slapped me around the face about two days ago because she'd overheard me crying after one of the many times she'd tortured me until I lost consciousness. I worried what people would think when I, the supposedly evil Ivory Riddle, daughter of Lord Voldemort, showed up at platform nine and three-quarters with my face looking like it had been used as a punching bag.

Suddenly, the door to my "room" flew open and Mother strode in, vanishing the mirror as she did so.
"Having fun looking at ourselves were we?" she asked in her mock baby voice. "Was ickle Ivory wishing she was pretty?"
I turned around to face her, chewing on my bottom lip.
"I-I was just th-thinking—"
"Thinking?" she mocked, still using her stupid baby voice. "I didn't know you could think."
I carried on as if I hadn't heard her. "—thinking about w-what people would th-think when they saw my c-cuts and b-br-bruises," I finished.

Mother glared at me, took her wand out from her robes and pointed it straight at my face. My body flinched, betraying my fear, as I braced myself for the pain that I had quickly learned to expect from that wand. But, to my great relief and astonishment, the only thing I felt was a slight tingling sensation on my face.
"When you get sorted you will be in Slytherin, otherwise the Dark Lord and I will put you through more pain than you could ever imagine. Understood?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Good."

With that, she left, slamming and locking the door behind her. I quickly conjured up the mirror once more and stared in disbelief — my face was completely healed, with no cuts or bruises in sight! Smiling broadly, I vanished the mirror again, and wondered how I was to get to platform nine and three-quarters. It was highly unlikely I would be allowed to walk through a station packed with Muggles, especially if Mother was with me, so I supposed I would have to apparate directly onto the platform. I sighed. I was never a very patient person, and now that I knew I would be getting out of this prison they called my home in a couple of hours, I felt like I would explode at any moment. Sighing again, I resigned myself to a long wait.

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

"Hurry up!" Mother yelled as I ran up the stairs. As soon as I reached her we disaparated, landing a few seconds later on platform nine and three-quarters. Mother hissed at me to remind me not to befriend Mudbloods, blood-traitors or Harry Potter, then disapparated again, leaving me alone.

Everyone nearby turned to look as I made my way onto the train, some looking scared, some glaring daggers at me. I wasn't sure which I hated more.

As I made my way along the train, looking for a compartment, people started pushing me around. Eventually, just as the train started moving, I was pushed over and I hit the floor. Hard. I was shoved into a compartment and people started kicking me and hurling insults at me, until —
"Leave her alone!"

I looked up to see a girl with fiery red hair, who seemed to be a year younger than me. She was standing in the doorway of the compartment, her wand out. She shouted at everyone to get out, and when nobody did, she started firing stunning spells at them, which got rid of them pretty quickly. The girl came over to me and crouched down, putting her wand away at the same time.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her face full of kindness.
"Yes, thank you," I murmured.
"I'm Ginny Weasley. Who are you?"
"I'm Ivory."

Ginny waited a few seconds, helping me up onto the seat as she did so, before saying, "And your last name?"
This was it, the moment I had been dreading. My answer came out as barely a whisper: "Riddle. Ivory Riddle."
I saw fear flash across her face, but a second later it was gone. She smiled at me, a proper smile, not an oh-my-goodness-it's-the-daughter-of-Lord-Voldemort smile.
"Well, it's nice to—"
Her voice suddenly stopped as the train shuddered to a halt and all the lights went out.
"W-what's happening?" I asked, the tremor in my voice giving away the fear I was trying to hide.
"I don't know. Let's go and ask Harry, maybe he'll know," she replied, a little shakily.

We made our way down to the end of the train, where Ginny almost walked into someone coming out of the last compartment.
"Who's that?"
"Who's that?"
"Ginny?"
"Hermione?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was looking for Ron—"
"Come in and sit down—"

We both walked in, and Ginny made to sit down on a seat, while I sat on the floor.
"Not here!" someone said hurriedly. "I'm here!"
"Ouch!" came another voice — I had sat on someone's foot.
"Sorry!" I whispered apologetically.
"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Nobody spoke. Then there was a crackling sound, and a man's tired face was suddenly lit by some flames in his hands.
"Stay where you are," he said, getting slowly to his feet. Before he could get to the door, however, it slid open slowly. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the flames in the man's hands, was a cloaked figure that was as tall as the ceiling, its face completely hidden by its hood.

And then the thing beneath the hood — who, up until now, I had assumed to be a Death Eater — drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it was attempting to suck something more than air from its surroundings.
My body grew cold and rigid, my heart seemed to freeze, and I couldn't see, it felt like a fog was clouding my brain. Then I heard it.

"P-please, I'm s-sorry... it won't happen a-again... p-pl-please, don't h-hurt me..."
"You should have thought about that before you tried to sneak out, shouldn't you? Crucio!"

Then the screams came — horrible screams, crying out in pain. I wanted to help whoever it was, I knew what it was like to be in pain, but my brain seemed like it was no longer connected to my body, I couldn't move, there was a fog swirling around me, inside of me, growing faster and faster —

"Ivory! Ivory, are you ok?"
Someone was shaking me.
My eyes opened, and I saw that it had been Ginny who had pulled me out of my memory; for I realised now what it was I had been hearing — a memory from when I was five, and Mother had first used the Cruciatus Curse on me.
"Are you ok, Ivory?" Ginny's voice came again, more urgent this time.
"Y-yeah, I think so."

"What happened? Where's that — that thing?" a boy I recognised as Harry Potter asked, putting my own questions into words. "Who screamed?"
"No one screamed," said a boy with hair as fiery as Ginny's, who I assumed was her brother.
"But I heard screaming—"
"I heard screaming too," I said quietly.

Everyone looked at me.
"You heard her?" Harry asked, seemingly thankful that he wasn't the only one to have heard screaming.
"I heard a girl, a young girl, screaming. She was being tortured," I replied shakily, before quietly saying, "and I know who she was."
"You do?" asked Ginny curiously.
"Yes. That was a Dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban prison. They force you to relive your worst memories, and if you're in their proximity for too long, they make you go insane. I know who the girl was, I know her very well. As well as I know myself. I know what was happening, and I know why."
"Who was it?" asked Ginny quietly.

A loud snapping sound came at just the right time, making us all jump and avoiding any further conversation about what I had just said. I was relieved; I had said too much already. I didn't want them finding out about what happened before I was allowed to go to Hogwarts. It would put them all in danger.