Voldemort's Daughter
written by ♡Aℓσнα♡
Meadow Lestrange was a beautiful girl. She grew up with a muggle family, believing that they were her grandparents. But every single day, she wondered what happened to her parents,and if she wasn't who she thinks she is. ADD TO YOUR BOOKSHELVES! :)
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
5
Reads
534
Who am I?
Chapter 4
I didn't get it. These people...my parents! They look so evil. They had hatred in their eyes. And, telling from all the pictures, it seemed like they didn't love me, and never will. They hid me. They were probably embarrassed I couldn't do magic like they did!
I stopped. Stopped walking, and fell to the ground, again. But this time, I didn't faint, I cried. I buried my hands into my wet face, and started to hyperventilate. I guess that only meant one thing. I was a squib! "No. They wouldn't ever turn away from me just because of that. R-right Goldsweep? They love me, I know they do. They're not ashamed just because I'm a-a-" I broke down to tears again.
My grandparents, or whoever they are, were talking about a squib, long time ago, when I was only seven. I learn a lot about wizards hiding behind a couch, listening to them talking, unaware of the fact I'm eavesdropping.
But I owe something to my grandparents. They knew that if they ever let me go to my old home, I wouldn't be able to take everything in.They're right. I'm not ready. And never will be.
"Let's go, Goldsweep. This place gives me the creeps.", I said, and climbed on the saddle. "Hyah!", I yelled, and Goldsweep charged back to the woods, my dark hair dancing in the wind, my off-white short dress getting cut from the sharp, thick branches. This place was dangerous and dark, I know it.
As I reached the clearing, where our cottage stands, I started getting off my horse.
"Where were you all day?", said the old man, I don't think they're even my family! I bumped passed him. His wrinkled old hands grabbed my arm. "Where were you all day? And what happened to your clothes, young lady!?", he yelled at me, still holding my arm tight.
"Let go of me!" I shrieked, trying to break free. "You're not even my family, I don't know you! So get out!", I yelled loudly. He let go, and the cottage was silent.
I could here the boiling tea shrieking, I could here the the silence of the humming from the woman clearly quiet.
I could here the the water rippling in the little river next to what I call home.
The woman shook her head and went to her small bedroom. The old man glaring at me.
"What reason would ever make you think we are not your grandparents?", the old man asked.
I hesitated, and gulped for a few seconds. "I escaped to my parents house!", I yelled and ran out the door, running through the little river.
I stopped. Stopped walking, and fell to the ground, again. But this time, I didn't faint, I cried. I buried my hands into my wet face, and started to hyperventilate. I guess that only meant one thing. I was a squib! "No. They wouldn't ever turn away from me just because of that. R-right Goldsweep? They love me, I know they do. They're not ashamed just because I'm a-a-" I broke down to tears again.
My grandparents, or whoever they are, were talking about a squib, long time ago, when I was only seven. I learn a lot about wizards hiding behind a couch, listening to them talking, unaware of the fact I'm eavesdropping.
But I owe something to my grandparents. They knew that if they ever let me go to my old home, I wouldn't be able to take everything in.They're right. I'm not ready. And never will be.
"Let's go, Goldsweep. This place gives me the creeps.", I said, and climbed on the saddle. "Hyah!", I yelled, and Goldsweep charged back to the woods, my dark hair dancing in the wind, my off-white short dress getting cut from the sharp, thick branches. This place was dangerous and dark, I know it.
As I reached the clearing, where our cottage stands, I started getting off my horse.
"Where were you all day?", said the old man, I don't think they're even my family! I bumped passed him. His wrinkled old hands grabbed my arm. "Where were you all day? And what happened to your clothes, young lady!?", he yelled at me, still holding my arm tight.
"Let go of me!" I shrieked, trying to break free. "You're not even my family, I don't know you! So get out!", I yelled loudly. He let go, and the cottage was silent.
I could here the boiling tea shrieking, I could here the the silence of the humming from the woman clearly quiet.
I could here the the water rippling in the little river next to what I call home.
The woman shook her head and went to her small bedroom. The old man glaring at me.
"What reason would ever make you think we are not your grandparents?", the old man asked.
I hesitated, and gulped for a few seconds. "I escaped to my parents house!", I yelled and ran out the door, running through the little river.
