The sun shone brightly over Platform Nine-and-three-quarters. Wizarding parents stood in bunches, talking animatedly and shading their eyes to check their watches (or, for the flashy, their floating grandfather clocks). An unattractive Muggle couple stood to one side, looking uncomfortable and annoyed. "Rank incompetence," the male said loudly every few minutes, jabbing at his watch and blowing out his mustache in poorly restrained aggravation. Occasionally the female looked at the family nearest her – two parents, three kids with runny noses, all wearing bright tartan robes and singing "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" in marvelous five-part harmony – and quickly averted her eyes, as if in pain.
A tall, blond man strode in through the wall and was greeted enthusiastically by a group of wizards whiling the wait away with Firewhiskey. "Lucius Malfoy!" bellowed a shiny-faced wizard. "You old hippogriff! Fancy meeting you here, eh?"
"At Platform Nine-and-three-quarters, where I meet you every single July," said the blond man. "Fancy that."
"Like a coincidence or something!" boomed the shiny wizard delightedly. "Come over here, Lucy, have a gulp! Ogden's finest Firewhiskey, just in time for seeing the kids again!"
"My apologies," said Lucius, with a small, faint shudder. "I must meet Narcissa. She arrived before me."
"Won't take no for an answer!" said the shiny wizard.
"Excuse me," bowed Lucius, and moved on. The male Muggle looked over at the Firewhiskey rather wistfully; his wife looked disgusted.
"Mrs. Dursley!" exclaimed a voice very near her ear, and she recoiled, her hand flying to her heart. Her husband stepped in front of her with an air of heroism and threateningly brandished his car keys. A red-headed man reached out and shook them enthusiastically.
"So nice to see you again, Mr. Dursley!" he said. "I don't know if you recall, we met earlier this year—"
"Weasley," spat Mr. Dursley venomously. His wife, cowering behind him, squeaked.
The red-headed man was joined by an equally red-headed wife. “Oh, Mrs. Dursley!” she said, bustling forward; Mr. Dursley swung the keys around in her direction. “How very lovely to see you here. I’m so glad to have a moment to speak with you. You see, Harry’s had rather a hard year.”
Mrs. Dursley let out a low moan.
“You-Know-Who is back, you know, the man who killed Harry’s parents.”
Mrs. Dursley grabbed her husband’s arm.
“And he broke into Hogwarts and tried to kill Harry too—”
Mrs. Dursley screamed faintly and hid behind her husband, who began to swell alarmingly. “How dare you speak to us?” he shouted, his face purpling. “How dare you come right over and start frightening my wife—”
“Vernon!” said his wife from behind him.
“Don’t worry, my love, I’ll get rid of them—”
“No, Vernon! Look up! What on earth is going on?”
Clouds rolled in above them. The air darkened and thickened, and the smaller children screamed as thunder cracked and boomed. The wizard holding the Firewhiskey bottle gazed at it in horror as the liquid bubbled and hissed. Black birds flew overhead, shrieking in harsh tongues. Families clutched each other, backing away from the platform wall.
A violent wind blew bits of litter up from the platform, and the terrified onlookers shielded their faces. Then a single bolt of lightning scorched the earth, and Lord Voldemort swept in, glancing at his watch.
"When does this bloody train arrive?" he asked Petunia Dursley.
She screamed. Everyone screamed. The platform was silvery with Patronuses galloping, hopping, swooping and slithering to warn the ministry. The red lights of Stunners shot through the crowds, but Lord Voldemort, looking annoyed, deflected them (and the Jelly-Legs Jinx from the Firewhiskey drinkers) with a dirty look. He raised his voice. "Can you all just calm down?"
"NO," yelled the crowd, in one voice.
"Sonorus," muttered Voldemort, pointing his wand at his throat. He addressed the crowds once more. "I AM SIMPLY HERE TO COLLECT MY DAUGHTER. PLEASE RESPECT MY FAMILY'S PRIVACY AND LET US HAVE OUR MOMENT IN PEACE. THANK YOU."
He lowered his wand and looked around. His eyes lit up red when he saw the Firewhiskey. "Here, can I get some of that?"
"Sure," stammered the shiny wizard. "My – my pleasure."
Lucius, standing with Narcissa not far away, was visibly uncomfortable. "Is he looking at us?" he hissed. Narcissa peered over his shoulder. "I don't think so," she said.
Lucius edged further away. "God, this is awkward," he said.
"His daughter's in fourth year now," a portly man was saying knowledgeably. "Got a son in that year, but he's in Hufflepuff, 'course. Surprise, the little Voldemorette is in Slimy Slytherin. No one knew 'til this year who her daddy was. Quite the shocker all round."
"She's been raised by her mother?" breathed his neighbor, a weedy-looking wizard in a loud checked suit.
“Dahlia Curry, remember her? She was in Hufflepuff, maybe fifteen years back? After your time, but maybe your sister knew her.”
“The Dark Lord had a kid with a Hufflepuff?”
“Makes you wonder, eh? Some combination. My Ernie says she’s quite a nice kid, considering. Keeps to herself and so on. I believe she won some kind of Charms prize last year.”
“The Dark Lord’s kid won a prize for making feathers twinkle?”
“Fathered by evil incarnate, raised by a Hufflepuff. Nature versus nurture. Like I said, you’d never know half her blood is black as a Dementor’s cloak. That’s what my Ernie says, anyway.”
“Amazing,” said the weedy wizard, eyes shining.
The portly wizard cocked an ear. “Hear that?”
“Sounds like the kids are here.”
The strident sound of the whistle came, and the train rolled in as the clock struck one. The doors opened, and children streamed onto the platform, running into the embraces of their waiting families. Lord Voldemort stood alone in the center of a wide space.
The crowd parted before a scruffy black-haired boy making his way to the Muggle couple. “You’re back,” Mr. Dursley said bad-temperedly. “They told us you’d been injured.”
“I suppose you people have some kind of health care,” Mrs. Dursley sighed. “I hope they’re not expecting us to pay any medical bills.”
The portly wizard clasped the hand of his portly son. “It's good to have you back, boy,” he said gruffly.
He stepped back as a blond girl brushed by him. “Excuse me,” she said.
“Not at all,” returned the portly wizard courteously. His son tugged his sleeve urgently.
“That’s her, Dad! That’s her!”
Lord Voldemort sighed, and tapped his foot. He looked up as the noise from the crowd around him suddenly dropped to hisses and murmurs.
“Hello, Annabel,” he said.
“Hello, Dad,” his daughter replied.
Heiress of Evil by voldiexx
Chapter Notes: Voldemort checks out the scene at Platform Nine-and-three-quarters.