Pull of Evil

"Eynhallow fair, Eynhallow free
Eynhallow sits in the middle o' the sea.
A roaring roost on every side,
Eynhallow sits in the middle o' the tide." . . . Orcadian rhyme.

Chapter One: Eynhallow: Holy Isle, Unholy Inhabitant.

Everything in Corinne's world changed the day she learned the truth. It was the eve of her eleventh birthday, a rare and pleasant time for Corinne as the winter gales began to die down and she waited for her summer visitor. Al came every year. Whatever his proper name was, she didn't know and preferred to simply call him 'wizard.' Usually her birthday would be observed with gifts, new books being her favorite. When presents were done being given, they'd celebrate the change of seasons as the winter twilight finally ended, and the sun returned to the sky. This year, however, would not be like any other.

Her mother had taken to her to the setting stones, an ancient ruin on the far side of their tiny, god forsaken isle. They were robed in heavy woolen cloaks, but the salt wind still whipped at their skin with a biting fury. For a while they watched the gulls fly and dive for fish. Corinne could tell that her mother was working herself up for something. It was one of her good days, but when it would be over, that last shred of sanity to which her mother clung would fray further still. It took her a long time to begin, but once she had started she could not stop.

It took about an hour for her to lay it all out. Indeed, she had descended again into one of her petrified and sanity lacking states by the end of it. At least now it all made sense. As Corinne watched her mother begin conversing with the air, she started to run. She ran farther and faster than she ever remembered doing in her life, the truth pounding through her with every heavy footfall. She could scarcely feel past the shock and terror to let fall the tears burning within her eyes. She would not let them fall, to weep was weak. She ran on, refusing to succumb to grief until she had covered the length of the entire island. Each breath was a cold knife through her as she continued to run far past what her endurance allowed. A painful stitch gripped her side but she continued to run on. When she could run no more, Corinne stood by the shore and screamed in fury, her voice scarcely audible amid the roar of wind and sea.

She sat on a nearby rock, thinking, hoping, that her heart would simply stop beating. Frantically, in her mind, she told herself that it could not be true, this couldn't be true, but deep inside, she knew it was. It made too much sense. She had known of course, that her father had treated her mother terribly, abused her and did things she neither wanted to know or even think about, but never did she even consider who her father had been. All she knew was that they had left to escape him. Her mother had run away before she was born, before he had had the opportunity to do to her child as he had done to herself.

That was why they lived they did. Eynhallow, the Holy Isle. A dreadful little isle on the edge of the world with only a few sheep and a crazy house-elf to keep them company in the ruins of a long forgotten monastery. Corinne hated it. The freezing wind, isolation, and clinging mists that kept the outside world, and more importantly the Muggles, out. It was a dreadful place to grow up in. Even if you arrived there with sanity in tact, Corinne suspected you wouldn't long keep it. Her mother had never had the chance, her father had seen to that. The only good part of her existence was the yearly summer guest, but this year, even he would not be welcome for her.

He lied to her, they all had lied to her. They should have told her sooner, not let her think that someday she might have a future, have life in the real Wizarding World. Now none of that was open to her. She was cursed, her blood was cursed and would forever be so. No matter what she might try to do, the dark hand of her evil parentage would creep forth to blacken everything she touched. What else could be in store for the daughter of the evil Dark Lord Voldemort?

Corinne didn't know how long she sat on the beach, scarcely feeling her frozen limbs. She saw the tide roll in and out and the sun descend just bellow the horizon, basking the sky in purple twilight. That was how the night sky stayed in summertime. Only ever a few tenacious stars creeping out until finally the day of the solstice came and the sun didn't go down at all. For a few days it would hang, caressing the horizon at night, then the twilight would return, and slowly the night. Of course the long summer suns reversed in wintertime, where but a few hours of sun meekly attempted to warm the day before succumbing to the endless night of winter. Those were hard times. You couldn't go out, not from snow which rarely appeared in any of the Orkney Islands, but from the bitterly sharp winds and gales that lashed salt from the sea at every inch of skin you let it.

Only her books kept her company. Corinne did not remember a time when she didn't know how to read. Most of her books belonged to the old monastery and by ten she could read both the Latin and Greek texts as well. She didn't like them, she thought that the books didn't make much sense. The bible with its first half a long winded history and genealogy and the second a strange compilation of points of view with its moralization tales. The books she really like were the magic ones. Her mother had a few, and Al would bring her more each summer. Every now and then Corinne would sneak out her mother's wand and give the magic a try. She learned very quickly, but when her mother found out, she snapped her own wand in two and told her that she was never to use magic, it just wasn't safe.

"Safe for what? I'm good at it! I can do all the spells in your book," Corrine had protested.

But now she knew why it wasn't safe. It wasn't safe for her to do magic at all. It wasn't safe to risk that she might turn into her father. Until the day she learned the truth she had been trying to learn to focus her magic without a wand. She was getting more adept at it every day, but now she knew she could never try again, not even to get her through the monotony of her daily chores. She was the daughter of evil, the daughter of a mass murdering wizard and she could never escape that.

After a long time on the beach, she realized that she was no longer alone. She knew that she had sensed him through magic and tried turn that off in her mind but she could not and Al knew it, too.

Finally, she decided to speak. "You're awful old to be sitting out here in the cold, you know?" she said to him.

Al smiled. "Youth does not shelter the elements. I expect you will feel a great deal worse tomorrow than you'll expect."

Corinne snorted. "Like you care?" she accused, feeling even more angry than she did earlier.

"You'll find that I care very much, my dear. Why else would I come here summer after summer?" he asked.

Corinne turned to him. For a moment she stared at the clear blue eyes, the long beard and half smiling face. She had to turn away, the desire to strike those perpetually calm features overwhelming her. "To watch me! To see if I was turning into Him! If you really cared about me then you wouldn't have lied to me!" she shouted.

Albus sighed. "Omitting of certain truths is not the same as lying, Corinne. I have never, nor will I ever lie to you. You were too young to know the truth. I think you are still quite young to have this burden placed upon you. I had hoped your mother would have waited till my arrival, but you did indeed need to know now."

"Why now? What's so different about this year that isn't true for next one, or last!" she demanded, turning those deep powerful eyes on him that he had seen too many times not to recognize. Eyes that demanded the truth, and knew if it was not given to them.

"Because you are old enough now to begin planning your future, Corinne. There are things to be considered," he said calmly.

She huffed. "What things? What can there be for the daughter of Voldemort? He'll find me, won't he? I know all to well what he is capable of doing," she said, trying to choke back some of the terrible images she had seen from her mother's mind.

"You perhaps forget what I told you last year? That Lord Voldemort is gone," he said.

"But not gone for good, is he?" she demanded.

Dumbledore hesitated. "No, not gone for good. I do not know if he will ever be, though I hope."

"Yeah I bet! Hope that you can teach me how to kill him you mean? I've seen how you look at me, how you and mum and Minty. You all know what I can do. It doesn't matter if I don't have a wand, or if I don't even try, the magic just comes out. There are things that I can do that scare you all. Things that have to have come from Him. You want me to be a murderer too don't you!"

"It is not your fate to kill your father. That terrible destiny belongs to another. Never will you hear me suggest that one human being kill another, not even Lord Voldemort. Murder is a terrible thing, Corinne."

"Well I hope someone does kill him. He'd deserve no less. No death no matter how terrible could be payment for what he did to my mother and how many others? Hundreds aren't there?" she asked.

"We may never know how many people your father has harmed or killed. You know that I will continue to try and help Helen."

Corinne was silent for a moment. She was indeed grateful for his many patient attempts to help her mother. Albus had tried potions, spells, even memory charms to block out the crimes done to her, but in the end, nothing could help. Her few and fleeting moments of clarity would be purchased by even more of craziness. She would never escape the demons he had left in her. Corinne had been more raised by the elf, than her own mother. She never blamed or begrudged her mother, she knew that her mother couldn't help being insane.

"How is this true?" she demanded of him. "How can a man like Voldemort father a child? And how can my mother have let him, or did he rape her?" she asked.

Albus thought out his answer for some time before responding. "It was not the Lord Voldemort for whom your mother held affection, but the handsome and charming young man named Tom Riddle. She loved him, though he himself is utterly incapable of such an emotion. We, unfortunately, are not always given the luxury of choosing those we love. In her he found a completely devoted servant, one who would risk and do anything all for the sake of his love which he always said he would one day give her. There was nothing she would not do for him, even consenting to the terrible experiments that have left her as she is now. As for the manner of your conception, I imagine that it was simply one more way in which he used your mother. He, no doubt, considered it just another experiment. An act of curiosity, not love. It did, however, save your mother's life."

"What do you mean!" said Corinne, not able to silence the flare in her voice.

"Years of torment and servitude left your mother ruined, this you know. Where she cared nothing for herself, when she learned that she was to have a child, there was suddenly a reason to live. A small person to protect, to love, a child that would need her even if she were not whole. In effect, your mother fell in love with you from the moment she knew of your existence. She had realized what Lord Voldemort was, that he was never going to give her the love he promised no matter what service or loyalty she gave him. She would have to serve him until she died. She could not save herself, but she could save you. That was when she came to me."

Corinne listened as he told her the story. She found she could scarcely breath, think, even believe what she was hearing.

"Your mother was terribly injured when she reached me. She babbled incoherently and seemed to be fighting invisible tormentors. All that could be understood was 'help, baby.' I knew. She could not tell me then, but I knew. I remembered her admiration of him at school and knew of her becoming a Death Eater. This saddened me greatly, for I saw in her great talent and ability. Had Helen's path never crossed that of your father's I expect that her life would have been very different, but we cannot ever truly know the ways in which life would have unfolded without our making the mistakes that shape our existence.

"I took her away and hid her. Quickly, and with the help of member of a group called 'the Order of the Phoenix' a group whose sole purpose was to fight Voldemort, we faked her death, so that your father would never know of your existence. This island is a stronghold of ancient magic. It is nearly impossible to approach and is protected by numerous protections. I must admit, that I added a great deal of additions to these, so that I am the only person who can currently enter this space. There is no safer place for you and your mother."

"How did you fake her death?" inquired Corinne.

Dumbledore seemed almost pleased to tell the story. "It was not easy feat, I admit. A potion exists that can transform one person into the semblance of another."

"Polyjuicce potion," she said.

"Correct, the polyjuice potion. A friend of mine was dying. It took a great deal of convincing, but he agreed. He took the potion until he died in the form of your mother. The body was placed rather publicly so that everyone would think that your mother had wondered off and died of exposure to the cold. Not an altogether rare occurrence for someone known to be lacking in sanity. With the illusion complete, your mother was removed to this, not entirely pleasant, but safe island."

Corinne continued to sit quietly long after Dumbledore had stopped talking. He moved to sit by her and she found herself torn between wishing to be alone and to receive a comforting embrace to try and shake out the terrible depth of despair that had welled in her.

"This is a great deal to take in. But you needed to know," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Corinne nodded. She was staring to feel the terrible pain in her body he had said was coming. Her belly ached and she knew that it had been a very long time since she had eaten, even if she could not precisely know how long she had been out there.

"We should get inside. Besides, it will be your birthday in a few hours, don't you want to see your presents?" he asked.

Corinne shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Now, it took a great deal of effort to bring them here. Eleven, is after all a very special birthday. Surely you can do an old man a favor enough to open the presents he brought you with a smile. We have yet even more things discuss. I want you to have at least a few moments pleasure to your birthday."

Corinne nodded and followed him back to the monastery that was her home. Whatever he had brought her, she already felt that she had been given far too much for her birthday already.

Author's note:
THanks so much to fathomlessdame for the totally awesome banner! This is a very different fic than I normally write. I hope you'all like it. As always, reviews are welcome. The Islands I chose in which to set this story are real ones. The Orkney Islands, and Eynhallow is in reality, uninhabited and steeped in magical history. When I found out about it, I just thought that it was too cool sounding a place not to write about. I'd add a link to the site where I did a lot of research for this story, (yeah, I know I'm nuts if I research a HP fanfic, but what can I say? I'm a nerd!), but we're not allowed to have links in out stories. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one! Read on!