Chapter Text
This was usually Mirielle’s favourite time of the year. The summer holidays.
It was sunny, the trees rustling from the wind with their leaves, plants all bloomed and the grass soft and bright green. Mirielle could walk and walk everywhere and all you’d see was green, all you’d hear was chirping birds and critters. She’d go out in the afternoon, into the fields of the long grass with a blanket and she’d read or listen to music, do word searches or fly on her broom.
But during the whole holidays, she had been in the worst mood. Some would blame on it on the fact that she was a 13-year-old girl and it was just hormones. Mirielle, however, would blame her sour mood on a boy. And not in the way you think.
Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was the reason for Mirelle’s unpleasantness this whole summer. The reason why when sometimes if she thought too much about what happened earlier this year, she’d get this itchy feeling all over and a feeling in her stomach that made her want to punch someone in the face.
Specifically, Harry Potter’s face.
Mirielle liked the warmth of summer, just like her mother—Glyndon. They would soak up the sun outside on the lounge chairs and help Mirielle’s grandmother, Ophelia, tend to her garden and all the plants. This was also when they would drink the tea blends that her grandmother would grow while Mirielle was away at school. Picking the leaves and flowers and drying them to drink—hot or cold. The three of them would go into town, either to eat or to go to the market or to just look around and shop.
Mirielle always enjoyed the summer with them. Even if she missed her friends and school.
But that had been ruined by Harry Potter. Because Mirielle did all these things, she read and she played guitar, listened to music and hung out with her family. But she couldn’t enjoy these things the same way, not when Harry Potter seemed to slip into her thoughts so often it was annoying. Because Mirielle didn’t want to be thinking about him, didn’t want to be thinking about earlier this year. When everyone found out about something she had been trying to keep hidden.
And all because Harry Potter couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.
Because this year, Harry had ruined everything. One careless conversation in the Hospital Wing and suddenly the entire school knew what Mirielle had spent her whole life hiding.
That she was a Riddle.
That she was related to Voldemort.
“Mirielle! Time to go!”
Mirielle’s head snapped up at the sound of her name, closing the book in her hands that she wasn’t reading. She quickly put on and tied her black converse, grabbing her tote bag and checking her hair in her full-length mirror with little flower details wrapped around the frame. She wore light wash low-rise jeans and a pale-yellow button-down that had autumn leaves printed on in different shades of orange. She had a stack of silver necklaces with a green tiny beaded one and one with a green gem pendant and was wearing a chunky ring on one hand and thinner ones on the other.
Mirielle paused in front of the mirror, tugging lightly at one of her necklaces so the green pendant sat straight. A smudge of mascara had gathered beneath one eye. She wiped it away with her finger tip, studying her reflection for a moment. Her grey-blue eyes looked darker today, framed by lashes heavy with mascara.
The afternoon light from the window caught the faint freckles scattered across her nose and high cheekbones, warming the pale peach colour of her skin. She rubbed at her cheeks, blending the blush there before leaning closer to the mirror. A curl had fallen into her bangs again. Mirielle tried to smooth it down, but it sprang right back into place. As always, her hair never listened—messy curls and loose waves the colour of milk chocolate and espresso.
Mirielle glanced around her room one last time to see if she needed anything before heading downstairs, where her mum was waiting beside the fireplace. Unlike Mirielle’s dark curls, Glyndon’s hair fell in messy, straight strands of chestnut, the natural brown auburn tones catching the afternoon light. The grey-blue eyes they shared had come from Mirielle’s grandfather, but everything else—from the shape of their faces to the high cheekbones and gentle curve of their smiles—made it impossible to mistake them for anything but mother and daughter.
“Finally. What were you doing up there to make you take so long?” Glyndon said with her hands on her hips.
“I didn’t take that long; you have to account for the many stairs as well,” Mirielle argued. “Besides it doesn’t take long at all to get there. We’re going by floo.”
“Right, of course,” Glyndon said, rolling her eyes playfully. “Well, we’d better be going then.”
Glyndon turned to Mirielle’s grandma for a quick hug before letting Mirielle do the same.
Ophelia gave a playful tsk at Mirielle. “My, aren’t you all dressed up to see your friends. Say hi to them for me.”
“I will.”
Mirielle’s grandma was a person that she would always admire.
Though age had softened little about her, years had woven silver strands through the dark curls that Mirielle had inherited from her. Her fair skin contrasted with dark hazel eyes that often looked almost black. Even after all these years, there was a quiet confidence about Ophelia that drew people's attention without her ever asking for it, a steadiness to her that never seemed to waver.
Despite their obviously different features, Mirielle had inherited more of her grandmother than people first realised. They shared the same high cheekbones, the same poised posture, and the same thoughtful habit of pressing their lips together whenever they were deep in thought. Mirielle often caught those similarities. Not in her eyes that belonged to her grandfather, nor in the warmth of her smile which came from Glyndon, but in the shape of her face and the little mannerisms she’d picked up without ever noticing.
It was those similarities that made Mirielle’s chest tighten whenever she thought about Tom.
She knew better than anyone how closely her grandmother had once resembled her twin brother when they were young. After Hogwarts, Ophelia had buried that relation as deeply as she could, lucky that Tom Riddle had abandoned his own name before revealing himself to the world as Voldemort. Most people had never realised there had been a sister at all.
But Mirielle had been unable to keep that secret. Some days, she still felt as though she had failed her grandmother in doing so.
Glyndon grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped into the fire place and yelled, “Diagon Alley!” throwing the floo powder and disappearing in a burst of green flames.
Mirielle hugged Ophelia once more, grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fire place.
____________________________________________________________________________________
As soon as Mirielle entered through the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, she brushed away the ashes on her clothes and face and headed to Diagon Alley.
Her mum yelled out before Mirielle got too far away, “You get 4 hours out! Be back here by 5:00, Mirielle!”
Mirielle turned her head slightly yelling, “I will, don’t worry!” heading off out the back and tapping the third brick from the left above the dustbin with her wand as the wall opened up into an archway revealing the busy cobbled streets filled with wizarding shops.
Mirielle didn’t have to look long before she spotted the two people that she was looking for who stopped to look at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.
She sped up and called their names, “Alethea! Zoya!”
The girls turned, one of them had long, thick dark hair that was somehow both messy and neatly wavy. She had dark brown eyes lined with eyeliner and pale skin. She’d look a lot like Mirielle’s grandma, if it wasn’t for her hooded eyes, soft jawline and high cheekbones that made her look like her mother. She was wearing all black in the form of a long skirt, tank top and mesh cardigan with black lace-up boots and silver statement necklace with an angel.
The other girl looked like her complete opposite. She had light golden blonde hair with messy waves with a little frizz, hazel green eyes with smudged brown eyeliner, thick eyebrows with an oval face and soft facial features that highlighted her slightly chubby cheeks. She was wearing lots of colourful jewellery, handmade beaded necklaces and chunky silver gem bracelets. Her clothes were also colourful with a short, long-sleeved blue and purple flowy dress with a chunky brown belt and square-heeled brown ankle boots.
The girls all collided in a group hug and Zoya—the blonde girl—made a squealing noise while the other girl, Alethea, basically let them hug around her as she was sandwiched between them though a small smile displayed her happiness.
“I love the eyeliner.” Mirielle complemented on Alethea and Zoya.
“Thank you! I am definitely not doing this every day though and not for school because I am not bothered to one bit,” Zoya replied while Alethea smiled at the compliment, “Do you guys want to get ice-cream and then shop? We still need to get our schoolbooks.”
They all agreed and bought ice-cream, sitting down and eating. They were chatting and Mirielle and Alethea were listening to Zoya yap about where they needed to go when Mirielle saw Florean Fortescue himself, walking over to a table at the front with an ice-cream sundae. At the table was a boy with a book open in front of him. The boy had unruly black hair and green eyes with round thin-framed glasses and there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead.
It was Harry Potter.
“Who are you glaring at?” Alethea asked bluntly, not even looking at Mirielle.
“No one.” Mirielle replied quickly but Alethea followed Mirielle’s gaze and saw who she was looking at.
“Ohh, Harry Potter?” Alethea remarks, taking a bite of ice-cream.
“No, I’m not looking at him.”
“I don’t why you’re trying to deny it,” Zoya butts in, “you are obviously looking at him and trying to stab him with your eyes.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not working.”
“So, you admit you are looking at Harry then.” Alethea retorted.
Mirielle just takes another bite of ice-cream and goes back to glaring at the boy. Besides, Mirielle didn’t admit she was looking at Harry because she didn’t want to talk about him. He was already in her mind too often.
Alethea strays Mirielle’s gaze from him by claiming, “You know it’s not his fault. About what happened.”
Mirielle’s response was immediate as she frowned at Alethea, “Yes, it is.”
“Well, not completely. It’s not like he meant for people to know.” Zoya counters, trying to gently reason with Mirielle.
“It doesn’t matter whether or not he meant for people to know. Do you think he meant to become famous? No, but he still is. He revealed to the whole school that I’m related to Voldemort. He might not have meant to, but it still happened.” Mirielle argued back, angry that her friends were siding with him. “It was supposed to stay a secret. I was supposed it keep it a secret. And I can’t blame my mum for giving me the name Riddle because it’s also my grandmothers. So, I blame him. I blame him for all of it.”
Harry looked up suddenly, like he could feel her staring. Their eyes meet. For a second Mirielle almost looked away. Then she remembered the whispers in the corridors and judgemental stares. Her glare hardened and Harry dropped his gaze back to his book.
It wasn’t like Mirielle could blame Harry for surviving her great uncle’s attempts at murdering him. But she couldn’t rationalise it, she didn’t want to. Because she needed someone to blame. And she knew that Harry had revealed the information of her and Voldemort being related in the Hospital Wing. The Hospital Wing being a public place where anyone could easily come in and eavesdrop on the conversation Harry Potter was having with the Headmaster. He could’ve waited until they were in the privacy of Dumbledore’s office or something to reveal such intimate details about her.
She’d thought that Harry was a decent enough person to do so, they were friendly enough with each other before then, smiling and saying hi to each other occasionally. But after Mirielle saw how Harry didn’t even look at her anymore for the last month of the school year, she decided then that she hated him. She hated him for revealing her secret and she hated him for treating her differently after finding it out.
She would’ve thought that Harry would understand. He had tonnes of fame because of his name, for being a child and defeating a great dark wizard. Mirielle was only Voldemort’s great niece, and he wasn’t even known by the name Tom Riddle. She had fame now in a similar way to Harry, because of a name. But Harry had judged her immediately after discovering she was related to Voldemort, he had thought that because they had the same name that she was just like him. And Mirielle hated him because of that.
“Well, should we get going then?” Zoya interrupts, the tense silence disappearing.
The girls left and Mirielle didn’t spare a glance at Harry as she walked past him to the door. They all went to Flourish and Blotts and the manager seemed to pale a bit when all the girls confirmed that they came here to get their new Hogwarts books. Though he impatiently brushed past them, put on thick gloves and grabbed a large, knobbly walking stick. The manager starts poking the stick between the bars of the large cage that contained copies of The Monster Book of Monsters.
“What are you doing with that?” Zoya questions the manger, referring to the large walking stick.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting you girls your books!” The manger snaps back impatiently.
“Yes, I can see that. But you don’t need to poke at them with a stick, you just need to stroke their spines and they’ll calm down.” Zoya retorts, “Just give me those.”
Zoya snatches the manger’s gloves off his hands, putting them on, rolls up the sleeves of her dress and goes to stand in front of the cage. She looks around before spotting a book, poking her hand through the bar and strokes her fingers up and down the spine and the book purred and calmed down. Then Zoya grabbed hold of The Book of Monsters and got it out of the cage.
“See? A lot easier than poking. Could I get a bag please?” Zoya asks, clutching the Monster Book to her chest while the manager is gaping at her before he seems to process what she’s said and goes to grab bags for them.
“Here hold this.” Zoya hands the Monster Book to Alethea who now has the book on her forearms with her hands clutching the spine, not phased at all. Zoya goes to grab two more copies of the book by stroking their spines and puts them in the bags the manager gives them who still seemed a bit stunned.
“Well maybe Zoya should run the shop now.” Alethea says to Mirielle with a plain look on her face while she waits for Zoya to grab the book from her arms.
“Yeah, actually you’d think these books would come with instructions on how to take care of them when you order them.”
“Or Zoya is just extremely smart in the subject of all kinds of creatures, including book monsters.” At the book monsters remark, Zoya comes over and grabs the Monster Book from Alethea and gives the manager details in how to stop the books from fighting, calm them down and grab one safely without any poking.
The girls get the rest of their books, getting Intermediate Transfiguration and Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three. Zoya and Mirielle got Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky for Divination and Mirielle and Alethea got Ancient Runes Made Easy by Laurenzoo for Study of Ancient Runes. Zoya got Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles by Wilhelm Wigworthy for Muggle Studies and Alethea got Numerology and Grammitca By L. Wakefield and M. Carneiro for Arithmancy.
“I underestimated how heavy these books would be.” Mirielle groans as she adjusts her tote bag full of books and the bag with the Monster Book in it on her shoulders.
“Yeah, maybe we should’ve waited until the end of our shopping to buy our books.” Zoya adds, “Ugh, my arm is going to fall off.”
“You know you could just spell them to be lighter right?” Alethea interrupts with a pointed look, “Or we could shrink them but I’m not very good at that spell yet, sometimes I make things too small or too big.”
“You couldn’t have suggested that earlier?” Zoya exclaims, pausing to bring out her wand.
“Well technically you can’t really do magic.” Mirielle points out. “Underage magic is just harder to trace here because the Ministry can’t tell if it’s cast by an underage wizard or not.”
“I don’t hear a reason not to.” Zoya casts the Feather-Light charm on hers and Mirielle’s books, instantly making them less heavy.
“Thank goodness,” Zoya sighs. “Now let’s go to Madam Malkin’s.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
The girls left Flourish and Blotts with their bags thankfully lighter than before. They pushed back into the busy street and started walking.
Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions shop smelled faintly of fabric and steam. A measuring tape suddenly whipped itself around Mirielle’s arm before she could stop it.
“Hold still,” Madam Malkin said briskly.
“I am holding still,” Mirielle protested.
Zoya snorted from the fitting platform while Alethea watched silently as the tape measured Mirielle’s sleeve. Once their robes were finished, they continued down the alley, stopping briefly at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary to restock their potion ingredients.
The sharp smell of dried herbs and potion ingredients filled the shop. Alethea picked up a small jar of dried beetle wings, tossing it into her other hand.
“Why do so many potions require insects?” she asked quietly.
Zoya glanced at the jar. “Because wizards are strange.”
After that they stopped at Krakens so Alethea could buy new paints, before Zoya dragged them into Gambol and Japes to look at the joke shop displays.
Then they head to Quality Quidditch Supplies where before they even enter the store, Mirielle starts fawning over the new piece of merchandise displayed in the front window.
“Oh my god, oh my god. Look it’s the new Firebolt!” Mirielle gazes at the broom in amazement, reading the sign next to the broom.
“I honestly still don’t understand your obsession with this sport.” Zoya exclaims, looking at the broom with indifference.
“It is not an obsession and if it was there’d be nothing wrong with it. Besides, I can bet that you two would quite enjoy quidditch if it wasn’t for the mild violence and the arseholes like Flint captaining the team.”
“It is an entertaining sport though.” Alethea said.
“Of course it is.” Mirielle states as though it’s obvious as she presses closer to the window, “If I had this broom, stupid Flint would have to let me on the team. I mean, aerodynamic perfection? Unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision? This broom accelerates to a 150 miles an hour in just ten seconds!”
“Well, that’s if you can afford it, it says price on request so it’s probably expensive.” Alethea gestures to the sign.
“Oh, and it’s got registration numbers so there must be a limited sell out.” Zoya points out.
“Ugh, no!” Mirielle groans, “These are probably mostly going to be sold to quidditch teams and not the public people.”
“It makes sense, this broom is a luxury item.” says Alethea.
“Well, let’s just go in anyway, I want to have a look at the quidditch gear.” Mirielle grabs Alethea and Zoya and tugs them into the store with her.
Alethea and Zoya trailed behind Mirielle as she looked around at the other brooms, the Hogwarts apparel and game equipment, picking up a Golden Snitch to toss around before stopping in front of the Team Captain gear.
“I don’t get how Flint is the team captain.” muttered Mirielle.
“Because he was picked in his 5th year by Snape. Besides, you wouldn’t want to be on his team anyways, he plays dirty and unfairly as does everyone else on the team.” Alethea argues.
“You know that you are 10 times better than everyone on that team.” Zoya states, matter-of-factly. “And Flint is the most biased, foul-smelling pig ever. He never picks any girls and just whoever can bully around the people on the other team.”
“Yeah, but I—” Mirielle cuts off her sentence as she caught sight of messy black hair across the store.
Harry Potter.
Mirielle looked away immediately and moved to a different part of the store, though her name being called stopped her mid-step.
“Mirielle.” She turned around hesitantly, looking at Harry standing a few feet away, his eyes wide and mouth open slightly like he hadn’t meant to say her name out loud.
Zoya went quiet and Alethea watched.
“What?” Mirielle said sharply.
Harry hesitated to say something which made Mirielle just walk out of the store, Zoya and Alethea behind.
If he thought that she was going to speak to him after everything that happened this year, he was wrong. Completely wrong.
____________________________________________________________________________________
The girls went back to The Leaky Cauldron, sitting down on the couches in front of the fireplace, bags piled at their feet. The fire crackled softly in front of them, warming them against the late afternoon chill.
“Why do we have this many bags?” Mirielle groans, sliding down further into armchair.
“I regret doing this in one day,” Zoya said, flexing her fingers. “Ugh, I know we made the books lighter, but my fingers still cramped from holding my bags.”
“That’s not how hands work.” Alethea replied while Mirielle huffed a quiet laugh.
“Third year though,” Zoya squealed, “I’m so excited especially for our new classes. I’m saying it now, Divination is either going to be amazing or incredibly useless and boring.”
“Probably both, I’m excited for Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures though.” said Mirielle.
“Yeah, me too,” Zoya exclaimed, “I wonder what Professor Kettleburn is going to teach us! I’m so excited to see what creatures we get to study!”
“I think there’s going to be a new Care of Magical Creatures teacher.” says Alethea.
“Oh really?” Zoya questioned. “Are you excited for your new classes? I still don’t get why you chose both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as your other classes, they’re so boring.”
Alethea just shrugged, “Because they’re interesting classes and I didn’t want to do Divination or Muggle Studies.”
A man came over to them, clicking his fingers to make the empty cups on the table disappear and wiped it down with a cloth. The girls smiled and said thank you, a pause between them now.
“Do you think he’ll try to talk to you again?” Zoya asked suddenly. Alethea watched Mirielle’s face.
“No.” Mirielle said not looking up.
Zoya and Alethea exchanged glances though neither of them said anything.
“Well good.” Zoya said after a second. “He better not especially after your hostile reaction the first time he tried. I might bite his head off if he tries again.”
“We could hex him.” Alethea says with a blank expression.
Mirielle huffs out a laugh, “Probably better if you don’t do either of those things, it might make it worse.”
“It’d be worth it.” said Zoya smiling.
Mirielle just scoffed playfully and smiled back.
“Anyway,” she said, pushing herself up from the couch, “I should probably go find my mum, she might be looking for me.”
Mirielle grabbed her tote and shopping bags. And very deliberately, didn’t look towards the back door.