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Ivana R · 01-27-2012, 02:22 AM

This fic tells the Flora Riddle's,story. Flora, Bellatrix's and Voldemort's daughter, is a powerful witch that was brought up by Muggles without her parents' knowledge. Lucius Malfoy finds her whereabouts and sees in it the possibility of the darkness returning what has always fascinated him. What he ignores is that she's not Voldemort. And the battle that is established is not the one he had in mind.

Chapter list:

1. The coldest day of the year
2. Mr Malfoy
3. The trip
4. At last the true
5. Meeting Draco
6. Neville and Hannah
7. Bringing the Army together
8. The Ambush
9. The Malfoy Manor
10. A wizarding Family

"This story was based on the Harry Potter series, created by JK Rowling, on which I have no property right and is not my intention to infringe any copyright.
It's a fan fiction story That Incorporate characters she created."
Translation into English: R. Migliorini & Ivana R.

1. THE COLDEST DAY OF THE YEAR

It would be a day like any other one in Flora’s life – a psychologist, married with three children –, if it were not for the sudden cold that had came to town during the night, and along with this, the news that her friend and co-worker had died.

Getting out of bed and picking up an outfit for the funeral seemed impossible. The previous day they had met briefly at the clinic and her friend seemed perfectly well, as Flora remembered while opening the window to check the weather conditions as if she did not know that the day dawned cold. Her indecision about the clothes she should wear was linked to her refusal to believe everything was real; and she knew it. She did not want to dress just as she did not want to leave home. The city looked totally unrecognizable in shades of gray and the fog that invaded her room, filled her lungs with inevitable icy reality. She closed the window without even noticing the approach of a dark figure. She shuddered and was deeply distressed. Then, she closed the curtains - the graceful and flowery curtains that her daughter had insisted on buying. That remembrance gave her a momentary joy. She did not notice, but the dark figure turned away out there. That off-season cold and the fog that covered the city, made her feel as if she would never be happy in life again. "No, it was probably only related to the circumstances. This has nothing to do with the weather", thought Flora.

She went to the funeral with her husband, Felipe, a tall and handsome man with dark hair and very pale skin - she loved him very much, but never commented on how handsome he looked to her just for him not to put on airs. As they walked side by side, hand in hand, Flora struggled to crack a smile for him. She usually was a very good-humoured person; nevertheless her good mood had vanished when she came out of bed to grab a blanket during the night, even before she received the sad news, she was devastated and feeling awkward. She was distant and barely paid attention to what she did or said, and greeted friends and strangers with sorrow.

She kept thinking the foggy day made her feel quite upset. "No, it wasn’t it”, she reasoned, “but the situation". She leaned against her husband and forced herself to move on. Flora and Felipe came near the place where the burial would take place, getting a little behind the small crowd that had come to say goodbye. Then, the final honors began. They were in the old cemetery in downtown, while the cold bit her lightly on the cheek, she idled away looking at the sculptures on the graves that had always fascinated her, especially the one of the young bride leaning over the grave of her beloved one, and it caused a big knot in her chest, so she tightened firmly her husband hand. Her attention also floated from one ancient tree to another. Then, she noticed two men gazing at her with an unusual interest. At first, she thought she was ill-dressed or something of the sort, because no matter how hard she tried, her way of dressing always disagreed to her peers’. Then, she pretended her attention was in something else while examined the men, and realized she had never seen them before.

One of them was tall, blond, had a very pale skin, and looked about 50. She was under the impression that he watched her with a certain reverence. The other one, who was accompaning him, was much younger. This one was stoutly built, looked evil, and had black hair cut very short. They dressed as if they were not from the city. Actually, they seemed foreigners. They neither spoke, among themselves, nor greeted the relatives of the deceased woman. They seemed to be there just because of Flora. "No, I'm imagining things again" Flora thought, dismissing her own perception.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Flora to pay attention to what was happening and for a moment she had the feeling that a strange force was trying to control her actions and make her follow that old man. She shook her head as if to wave these thoughts aside. The feeling passed. The man seemed to smile as he looked at her briefly and Flora looked immediately away from him in response. However, she saw a tall, hooded figure in a dark cloak seemly slipping between the graves. Then, she glimpsed a brightness that seemed to come from under the blond man’s cloak, and the figure moved away. What was that? Certainly she was imagining things. Those men should be relatives or friends of the deceased woman and she, Flora, was too shaken, bordering on madness, perhaps, and had seen Death in person; or rather thought so. She shook her head again as if it could give back the reason into her mind. Anyway, she needed a holiday: it was certainly that, she concluded.

At the end of the funeral, it began drizzling. She left the cemetery leaning even more heavily against her husband, nearly being carried by him. She was trembling, not knowing whether it was because of the icy drops falling down hers neck or the nervousness increasing inside her. In the street, she saw those sinister figures again. Then, she decided to face them with a stare - knowing it might put people off sometimes. She looked in the eyes of the blond man so strongly that she believed his legs would collapse. He staggered and whispered satisfied to the other: “It’s her”. This makes her even scarier.

In their way back to the car, she realized her husband had not noticed anything, which left her with the feeling that everything was just fruit of her imagination. Even though, she thought that she would better walk faster, and justified it by telling him that she needed a rest.

And what if she was really imagining things? Would her mind be wavering? She shook her head once more undoing the bun on top of her head and dropping her long, black curly hair on her back and saw her reflection in the window of a car. Not only she looked paler than normal, but also her eyes seemed to have faded a bit in the last hour. "Perhaps the autumn leaves had changed colour" she thought, since she used to say that her eyes were their colour: something between dark green, brown, yellow and gray. And diving in her thoughts, she snuggled up onto her husband’s arms while they drove home in silence.

01-27-2012, 02:22 AM	#1 (permalink)
Ivana R ICW Ambassador Billywig Join Date: Jan 2012 Location: Brazil Posts: 3,433	Flora Riddle 1 - Sa13+ Portuguese Hippogriff Harrys Schokofrösche This fic tells the Flora Riddle's,story. Flora, Bellatrix's and Voldemort's daughter, is a powerful witch that was brought up by Muggles without her parents' knowledge. Lucius Malfoy finds her whereabouts and sees in it the possibility of the darkness returning what has always fascinated him. What he ignores is that she's not Voldemort. And the battle that is established is not the one he had in mind. Chapter list: 1. The coldest day of the year 2. Mr Malfoy 3. The trip 4. At last the true 5. Meeting Draco 6. Neville and Hannah 7. Bringing the Army together 8. The Ambush 9. The Malfoy Manor 10. A wizarding Family "This story was based on the Harry Potter series, created by JK Rowling, on which I have no property right and is not my intention to infringe any copyright. It's a fan fiction story That Incorporate characters she created." Translation into English: R. Migliorini & Ivana R. 1. THE COLDEST DAY OF THE YEAR It would be a day like any other one in Flora’s life – a psychologist, married with three children –, if it were not for the sudden cold that had came to town during the night, and along with this, the news that her friend and co-worker had died. Getting out of bed and picking up an outfit for the funeral seemed impossible. The previous day they had met briefly at the clinic and her friend seemed perfectly well, as Flora remembered while opening the window to check the weather conditions as if she did not know that the day dawned cold. Her indecision about the clothes she should wear was linked to her refusal to believe everything was real; and she knew it. She did not want to dress just as she did not want to leave home. The city looked totally unrecognizable in shades of gray and the fog that invaded her room, filled her lungs with inevitable icy reality. She closed the window without even noticing the approach of a dark figure. She shuddered and was deeply distressed. Then, she closed the curtains - the graceful and flowery curtains that her daughter had insisted on buying. That remembrance gave her a momentary joy. She did not notice, but the dark figure turned away out there. That off-season cold and the fog that covered the city, made her feel as if she would never be happy in life again. "No, it was probably only related to the circumstances. This has nothing to do with the weather", thought Flora. She went to the funeral with her husband, Felipe, a tall and handsome man with dark hair and very pale skin - she loved him very much, but never commented on how handsome he looked to her just for him not to put on airs. As they walked side by side, hand in hand, Flora struggled to crack a smile for him. She usually was a very good-humoured person; nevertheless her good mood had vanished when she came out of bed to grab a blanket during the night, even before she received the sad news, she was devastated and feeling awkward. She was distant and barely paid attention to what she did or said, and greeted friends and strangers with sorrow. She kept thinking the foggy day made her feel quite upset. "No, it wasn’t it”, she reasoned, “but the situation". She leaned against her husband and forced herself to move on. Flora and Felipe came near the place where the burial would take place, getting a little behind the small crowd that had come to say goodbye. Then, the final honors began. They were in the old cemetery in downtown, while the cold bit her lightly on the cheek, she idled away looking at the sculptures on the graves that had always fascinated her, especially the one of the young bride leaning over the grave of her beloved one, and it caused a big knot in her chest, so she tightened firmly her husband hand. Her attention also floated from one ancient tree to another. Then, she noticed two men gazing at her with an unusual interest. At first, she thought she was ill-dressed or something of the sort, because no matter how hard she tried, her way of dressing always disagreed to her peers’. Then, she pretended her attention was in something else while examined the men, and realized she had never seen them before. One of them was tall, blond, had a very pale skin, and looked about 50. She was under the impression that he watched her with a certain reverence. The other one, who was accompaning him, was much younger. This one was stoutly built, looked evil, and had black hair cut very short. They dressed as if they were not from the city. Actually, they seemed foreigners. They neither spoke, among themselves, nor greeted the relatives of the deceased woman. They seemed to be there just because of Flora. "No, I'm imagining things again" Flora thought, dismissing her own perception. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Flora to pay attention to what was happening and for a moment she had the feeling that a strange force was trying to control her actions and make her follow that old man. She shook her head as if to wave these thoughts aside. The feeling passed. The man seemed to smile as he looked at her briefly and Flora looked immediately away from him in response. However, she saw a tall, hooded figure in a dark cloak seemly slipping between the graves. Then, she glimpsed a brightness that seemed to come from under the blond man’s cloak, and the figure moved away. What was that? Certainly she was imagining things. Those men should be relatives or friends of the deceased woman and she, Flora, was too shaken, bordering on madness, perhaps, and had seen Death in person; or rather thought so. She shook her head again as if it could give back the reason into her mind. Anyway, she needed a holiday: it was certainly that, she concluded. At the end of the funeral, it began drizzling. She left the cemetery leaning even more heavily against her husband, nearly being carried by him. She was trembling, not knowing whether it was because of the icy drops falling down hers neck or the nervousness increasing inside her. In the street, she saw those sinister figures again. Then, she decided to face them with a stare - knowing it might put people off sometimes. She looked in the eyes of the blond man so strongly that she believed his legs would collapse. He staggered and whispered satisfied to the other: “It’s her”. This makes her even scarier. In their way back to the car, she realized her husband had not noticed anything, which left her with the feeling that everything was just fruit of her imagination. Even though, she thought that she would better walk faster, and justified it by telling him that she needed a rest. And what if she was really imagining things? Would her mind be wavering? She shook her head once more undoing the bun on top of her head and dropping her long, black curly hair on her back and saw her reflection in the window of a car. Not only she looked paler than normal, but also her eyes seemed to have faded a bit in the last hour. "Perhaps the autumn leaves had changed colour" she thought, since she used to say that her eyes were their colour: something between dark green, brown, yellow and gray. And diving in her thoughts, she snuggled up onto her husband’s arms while they drove home in silence. Last edited by Ivana R; 07-15-2012 at 12:50 PM. Reason: Poor Flora! I had neglected her pain!