A dark heart slowly lightened

Dumbledore never saw me coming, which was probably the thing that stopped him. I am Vanessa Riddle, the one who stopped the war, but I lost everything in the process.

I hate life - it’s not fair. I spend most of my time at the side of my father, the side of the light - my father Tom Riddle (or Voldemort) is the light side. He’s not evil, he never was. It’s Dumbledore who’s the evil one. Bet you didn’t know it was my dad that stopped Grindelwald, did you? Bet he didn’t tell you that.

I was raised to be a princess, a girl who stayed by her father’s side and followed orders, but it didn’t last. I wanted to learn about the world outside the manor, outside the places where my father stayed hidden, so I did. What I found was evil and dark, but there was light in places, and the biggest place that light shone was a boy. A boy destined to be greater than people ever imagined, a boy by the name of Harry Potter.

Now Harry Potter is the same age as me, but we are two sides of a coin. He didn’t realize he was being manipulated, that he was being used as an assassin. They all said he was destined to kill Voldemort. To kill a dark lord, as ‘neither can live while the other survives’. That prophecy wasn’t meant for Harry and Voldemort. It was meant for Dumbledore and me.

Father often said to me, “Oh, Vanessa, what am I going to do? The old fool has that poor Harry Potter after me, and I can’t stop him.”

All I could tell him was, “I’ll get him, dad, I promise. One day.” That day hasn’t come yet, and I hate all of this.

Dumbledore faked his own death and killed my uncle, Severus Snape. He tried to blame his death on Uncle Sev and said my uncle died in the fight that killed Dumbledore, but he didn’t! It’s all Dumbledore’s fault - everything is his fault.

After his ‘death’, Harry Potter went on a rampage, searching for my dad’s horcruxes. He killed each and every one, and then he went to meet my father in the forest. When he came into the forest, I felt the corners of my cold heart tug. He looked so worn, so old. Even though he was young he had been through too much in that small time. He asked my father - he didn’t beg - he asked my father if he would kill him to remove the horcrux. Father said yes, because he hadn’t meant to hurt him. I don’t think he realized that harry had killed all the other horcruxes.

He died in my arms. I ran to him, and I forgot about what was happening around me. I flung myself at my dad as he was shedding into what looked like paper, and then...nothing. I couldn’t hold him. He disintegrated in my arms. All I have of him now is a scale of Nagini’s.

Once my dad died, I forgot about everything. The deatheaters all stopped and apperated away. Bellatrix tried to grab me and pull me away, but I didn’t want to go. I shook her off and forced a portkey into her and As she disappeared, the shock written on her face, I let the tears fall freely. This was my dad! He could be cruel and ill-tempered, but I loved him.

Potter had looked at me with shock. “Who are you?”

“His daughter,” I replied. “I’m Lord Voldemort’s daughter, Vanessa Riddle.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he whispered.

He walked over and touched my shoulder. I felt an electric shock and a slow burning from his touch, and I heard him gasp. His hand came off my shoulder and an icy cold set in.

My hands hit the floor and magical cuffs radiated around them. I picked myself up and dragged myself forward, and then I understood why Potter had gasped. Dumbledore was standing among some of his precious order, his wand out and pointed at me. I was getting pulled by Dumbledore’s magic. I was getting closer to him and nothing could stop it.

I was underground. I didn’t know where, and I didn’t know how, but I was trapped by Dumbledore. It was cold and damp, and I couldn’t do anything other than tremble and shiver. Dumbledore visited me at least once a day, although sometimes he never came at all. I was without magic, but Dumbledore had order members visit me every day with enough food and water to keep me conscious.

I didn’t hear much about Potter. When Granger came down with Weasley they both complained about how he wasn’t talking to them, how he was silent and complained about dreaming about a girl. Once they’d left, I’d sit for hours because I was having dreams about Potter.

All I could think about was how handsome he was, and how he had looked in the final battle, how rugged and warrior-like he had seemed - I shouldn’t have thought of him like that. He killed my father...but he didn’t, not really, he followed Dumbledore.

I spent two years down there before I was broken out. The deatheaters had split off, believing both my dad and me dead. The most shocking thing was who broke me out. That person was Harry Potter. He had been down a few times to bring food, but he had seemed to linger on several occasions. I asked him once why he stayed, and he told me that he couldn’t understand why I didn’t hate him for what he did before quickly running away.

Dumbledore sometimes came into my cell, trying to taunt me, and once Potter came too. When Dumbledore left, Potter slowly came away from the wall. He promised to break me out and take me home, and I in turn made him promise he’d come with me because Dumbledore would know he did it.

A week later, after another of Dumbledore’s lessons as he called them, Harry came to me. He held a key and two wands, one of which was mine and the other his. He lifted me up and supported me as I began to stumble, and we tumbled up the stairs. I cried out as the light shone into my eyes and he gently pulled me further away from my prison. I could feel the muscles below Harry’s shirt as he supported my practically dead weight.

He said, “Hold on to me.”

I did, and he apperated away. We landed outside my father’s manor and a few deatheaters flew out to meet us. I was grabbed and taken to a room where I healed for a few days, and after I managed to find Harry in the manor again. He was holding a death threat in his hands, and it was from Dumbledore.

Harry and I spent a lot of time together after that. We both swore vengeance on Dumbledore. I showed Harry how he had been manipulated all this time. In turn, he accepted the truth rather well and explained to me he had had suspicions about the order of flaming chickens for a while now ever since Sirius and Remus died.

Eventually we became more than just friends. A war was now in full force, Harry and I on one side and Dumbledore on the other. I married Harry and he reddened my black heart, even though as time went by I was still scared of dark places thanks to the torture I had endured at the hands of Dumbledore in the basement at Grimmauld Place.

But what I do now? This is the day the war ends. This is the day I get my life back. The day I begin to enjoy my life with the now Harry Peverell - he dropped the name Potter once he found out who his ancestors were. I feel him squeeze my hand as we stand outside the great hall. This is where the final battle is taking place.

So, milord. Are we ready to end the war?” I ask with a dark grin on my face.

“I do believe we are, my dark lady,” he replies with a sly smile of his own.

We slam the doors open and rush in with the army behind us.