Fear of a Name

Chapter Twenty: The Letters

My time at Hogwarts was going far too quickly. It was already the sixteenth of October, and Halloween was drawing closer.

I was brought out of my thoughts when the bell rang to signal the end of the Transfiguration lesson.
"One moment, please!" Professor McGonagall called, as some people made to leave. "As you're all in my house, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Hogsmeade was apparently an all magical village, and third-years onwards were allowed to visit it occasionally, the first trip being on Halloween. I'd been sent a permission form with my acceptance letter this year, which Father and Mother had refused to sign; in fact, I had been tortured for even mentioning it to them.

"Please, Professor," said Neville, raising his hand, "I — I think I've lost—"
"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom. She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave."
I looked at Harry; he had been thinking about asking Professor McGonagall if he could go even though his aunt and uncle hadn't signed his form either.
"Ask her now," hissed Ron.
"Oh, but—" started Hermione, but Ron cut across her.
"Go for it, Harry."
Once everyone had left the classroom, Harry walked over to Professor McGonagall's desk at the front of the class.

I couldn't hear what was going on until the end of their fairly short conversation, when Professor McGonagall said, "I'm sorry, Potter, but that's my final word."
I walked over to them.
"Miss Riddle, don't even begin to try and convince me, about Mr Potter's form or your own," said McGonagall when she saw me, sounding a little irritated.
"I wasn't going to, Professor," I replied, shuddering ever so slightly as I remembered what had happened last time I'd asked someone about my form being signed.

I quickly looked at Harry, then at Ron and Hermione, who had walked over too, and then back at McGonagall, hoping none of them had noticed. It didn't seem like they had.
"I was just coming to inform Harry that if we don't hurry, we'll be late for our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson," I finished.

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

I awoke on Sunday morning with a feeling of terror, though I didn't know why. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows of the dormitory, and Hermione was shaking me awake.
"Morning, Hermione," I said sleepily. "What's the time?"
"Nine thirty," she replied as I got up.
"Has breakfast finished?"
"No, it's until ten on a Sunday, luckily for you."

I saw her looking at my unnaturally thin body with concern. I hadn't really been eating very well after the day the howler came right at the beginning of the school year; I had found that although I was allowed to eat, it didn't necessarily mean that I physically could eat much, if anything. I hadn't ever had the luxury of eating more than three times a week at the Manor, and that was if I was lucky and Mother was in an unnaturally good mood, which was almost never. Most weeks I had only been allowed to eat once or twice.

I bit my lip as I was pulled into memories, memories of things I hadn't wanted to remember again; the hunger, the pain, the fear...
"Ivory? What's wrong?" Hermione asked me worriedly.
I snapped out of it and looked at her, trying to think of an excuse for my strange behaviour just then.
"Nothing, I was just thinking of..."
I hesitated for a second, then continued.
"...of breakfast, and then I kinda got a little caught up in some memories relating to it."
Hermione looked confused, but, to my relief, didn't press me on the subject.

After I had got ready, I walked down to the Great Hall with Hermione, trying to shake off the fear I was feeling in the pit of my stomach, still not knowing why it was there. I shrugged slightly and sat down at the Gryffindor table.
It's probably nothing, I'm just paranoid because I haven't heard from them for a while now.
I hadn't been back to see my father at one of his stupid Sunday meeting thingies since the first one; Professor Dumbledore and Professor Lupin had both forbidden me to go to the Manor until the summer in case I got tortured again.

I took a bit of toast and started to eat, getting full up after just one slice.
"Ivory, you need to eat more than that!" Hermione told me.
"I'm not hungry..."
My voice trailed off as I saw Mother's owl, Thunder, fly in with a letter clamped in its beak. Thankfully it wasn't a howler, but my hands still shook slightly as I opened it, breaking the wax seal imprinted with the Lestrange coat of arms. I pulled the parchment out the envelope, opened it and read the single sentence that was written in Bellatrix's distinctive handwriting.

Come today or I'm coming to you.

"Who's that from?" Hermione asked, though I could tell she already knew the answer; she recognised Thunder from when I'd got the howler at the beginning of the year.
"My mother," I muttered.
"I thought it was. What does it say?"
I made as if to hand it to her, but Thunder gave me a vicious nip on the wrist. I cursed under my breath as it started bleeding, and stopped trying to give the letter to Hermione.
"Ok, ok, I get it. I can't show her. Are you going to leave now?" I said to the jet black owl.

Suddenly, another owl came flying into the great hall and dropped another letter in front of me.
"Ivory," I read out loud, confused. "That's all it says."
"Are you sure? There's not—"
Another letter interrupted Hermione, she promptly took it from me and read it.
"This one just says Riddle," she informed me, her face mirroring my confusion as yet another letter came.

"Ivory—"
"—Riddle—"
"—answer—"
"—my—"
"—letter," Hermione and I read aloud, alternating words.
"Why in the name of Merlin did she send each word in a different letter?"
Everyone nearby was looking at me curiously. I suppose it's not normal to have six owls stood in front of you at breakfast, but they had all refused to leave when I'd tried to send them away.

"Ivory..." said Hermione warningly, pointing to yet another owl flying down to me. "Ivory, she's sent a howler now."
"Well great, my day surely can't get any worse," I growled, grabbing the howler and ripping it open impatiently.
"IVORY RIDDLE, ANSWER MY LETTER RIGHT NOW, OR I'LL—"

That was the last straw.

"FINE, I'LL ANSWER YOUR DAMN LETTER!" I yelled at the howler, shutting it up, before grabbing a quill, some ink and a piece of parchment from my purse.
'I shall come if Dumbledore allows me, and Lupin too.' I wrote. 'They didn't allow me to go before.'
I folded up the letter and gave it to Thunder, who promptly flew off, the other owls following him. Noticing that almost everyone in the great hall was staring at me, I put my quill and ink back in my purse, shoved Mother's letters into my pocket, and walked out of the room.

As I walked into the entrance hall, a beautiful brown owl flew over to me with yet another letter in its beak.
I opened it; it was only one sentence long again, but this time it was in my father's writing.

You know what happens when you disobey me.

I was wrong. My day just got much, much worse.