Chapter 8: Tottam Forrest
Harry held his wand aloft, letting the soft yellow light spill onto the mossy ground. Amaryllis did the same.
“Do you know where to go?” she asked quietly. Harry flinched as his scar sent rivulets of pain running down his forehead. He slipped suddenly into his enemy’s mind.
“My lord, do you think that Potter will arrive soon?”
Harry/Voldemort opened his eyes and stared at Bellatrix Lestrange. Her dishevelled hair fell over her face and she tossed it out for the hundredth time. Harry/Voldemort rolled his eyes. He was sick of Bellatrix’s hair. It was so long, and ratty, and just HEINOUS. He looked away from her eager face. Ironic that once she should have been so beautiful. He had thought that if he had been able to love, he might have loved her.
Voldemort’s thoughts drifted from the dark woods into a bright town in France called Giverny. It was the home of a famous painter, he had been told, but Tom Riddle cared little about that. He had gone to Giverny for one thing, one thing only….and boy had he got that thing.
Voldemort stood up and folded his arms, looking away from the grovelling woman. He was now far away, using his brain like a pensieve, looking into his memories. He remembered standing on a street corner, dressed in muggle clothing, sweating in the heat. He hated that, hated this link to mortality, so he cast a spell about him like a fan, and instantly he cooled right off.
Unfortunately for him, he soon heated up again when he spied a young woman across the road. She was stunningly beautiful and had long, curly black hair. Her bright blue eyes sparkled mischievously and he knew instantly that she was a witch.
Voldemort liked the fact that the French knew nothing of what was going on in the country across the Channel. He liked his anonymity here, liked that for once no one knew him.
He knew it was just a phase – knew that soon he would long for, desire and yearn for that feeling of malevolence, of the terror that he cast about himself whenever he showed his face anywhere in the United Kingdom. Voldemort decided he would take the risk of using Juliette Laperouse to carry his heir, and crossed the street.
“Do you speak English?” he asked.
“Anglais? Non, monsieur. Je suis une prostitueé. Vous voulez certains?”
Voldemort only understood one word.
“Quel est votre nom ? Ma pièce de motel est juste autour du coin. Je charge cinq cents francs.”
This translates to: What is your name? My motel room is just around the corner. I charge 500 francs.
So he went back with her to her motel room…
Harry pulled himself out of Voldemort’s head with great horror. He discovered himself lying on the ground, staring up at the starry sky. Then his head twinged and he fell back into his enemy’s memories.
“Je viens d'avoir votre bébé, vous l'écume! Ma vie entière est ruinée à cause de cela! C'est votre faute! Ne croyez pas que je ne sache pas qui vous êtes....”
This translates to: I've just had your baby, you scum! My whole life is ruined because of this! It's your fault! Don't think I don't know who you are....
Voldemort struck the young woman across the face.
“It is a boy?”
She did not understand. He shook her by the shoulders.
“IS IT A BOY?!!! Is it like me??”
She smiled, shook her head and spat.
“Une fille. Son nom est la Devinette d'Amaryllis. Ah oui, elle a votre nom. Je ne veux aucune partie d'elle. Peut-être vous pouvez la sauver de grandir comme moi.”
This translates to: A girl. Her name is Amaryllis Riddle. Oh yes, she has your name. I want no part of her. Perhaps you can save her from growing up like me.
But Voldemort didn’t want his daughter either. He Confunded the prostitute, made her keep the child and raise her in France.
Juilette told him thickly,
“Je la soignerai et vous dirai quand elle a dix-sept ans.”
Translation: I will look after her, and tell you when she is seventeen.
And so Voldemort left Juliette Laperouse holding his baby, went home and killed Lily and James Potter and met his downfall in Harry.
Harry came back with a gasp. Amaryllis was holding him up, and baby Tom was looking over her shoulder and staring mutely.
“What did you see?” Lis asked, her face white with concern. Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead and grinned.
“I just saw your dad bonking your mum.”