This is a lot like a test-story. I've wanted to do a Harry Potter fic for a long time. If people like this story, review and let me know, and I'll post a much longer chapter next time.

Is it too much to be judged for who I am…and not who my parents were? Judging by the cold gaze of the severe woman gazing at me, I assumed that it was impossible.

The view seemed to be shared by everyone in the room; they all gazed down at me, and it went further then dislike. It was outright loathing and hatred that I viewed on their features. I had seen the look throughout my entire life – I knew.

"Lovella…Riddle." The woman's lip curled as she read off my name. "You want to…"

She came to a halt, as though unable to put my request into words. I supplied them. "I want to come to Hogwarts – I want to be a student there."

The entire congregation of witches and wizards shifted uncomfortably. I felt like shouting them down, but my gorgeous face remained impassive. It had been less then eleven years since Voldemort – my father, it had to be admitted – had been killed in a duel with Harry James Potter. It hadn't made the Wizarding community like me any more. All had been shocked to discover my existence several years after my father's murder. The shock obviously hadn't worn off yet.

"Why?" I managed to meet the fierce woman's gaze – her speckled eyes were somewhat daunting. I tried not to flinch away. This woman hated me.

"To be with people my age and to learn about magic." My answer was simple enough, but it made the witches and wizards group in the tiny room uneasy.

My gaze swept around the assembly. I recognized a few of them – Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic; Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter's good friend and professor of Herbology; Hermione Granger, of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Ron Weasley, an Auror; and Harry James Potter himself, head of the Auror Department, killer of Lord Voldemort. His green eyes pierced me, and I could barely look away from his scar – the lightning bolt that my own father had placed there.

I figured that Harry's expression, most of all, would scorch me, accuse me and burn me. But it didn't; his eyes were calm despite the fact that the daughter of his most-loathed enemy stood before him.

"Headmistress," Harry murmured, when Minerva McGonagall opened her mouth again. She turned to look at him, and I saw respect and even affection in her harsh eyes.

Harry stood, a small smile on his face. "Voldemort," he began, "is gone. He did wrong; all of us here can appreciate that. I think we can all acknowledge the fact that he deserved to die." I did not wince, despite the fact that Harry was talking of my own father. He was right, after all. "However," Harry continued, "if we allow ourselves to persecute Voldemort's daughter, who can help her heritage no more then I, then we will have become just like him, in his maltreatment of Muggles, who also could not help their heritage."

Harry sat down again, and I saw Hermione give him a little smile. Her husband, Ron, didn't look so pleased, but there was nothing he could say; he knew his friend was right.

"Are we to accept her then?" Professor Longbottom asked. "I agree with Harry, and I have to get back to Hogwarts; the Mandrakes need tending."

A small chuckle rippled throughout the room. Minerva didn't relax right away; but eventually her clenched muscles and hard mouth loosened. She sighed and leaned back. "Very well. Then, Lovella Riddle, you will be given a list of your school things…if that is agreeable?"

I smiled at her. "Thank you, Headmistress."

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, yes, now away with all of you. Kingsley, if we may discuss?" The Minister of Magic turned his head towards the old woman, and the rest of the wizards and witches filed out.

I stood in one of the many corridors of the Ministry of Magic, savoring my success. I was just eleven, and when I had not received a letter from Hogwarts, despite my magical skills, I had been angry and disappointed. So I had come to them, demanding my entrance. And, wonders upon wonders, they had agreed.

"Lovella." My caretaker, an old witch by the name of Janice, approached me, looking nervous. She put one arm around my shoulder and smiled tenderly at me. I smiled back; I liked her shoulder there, it made me feel safe. "Did they let you in?"

Janice had been as outraged as I when my letter had not come a week earlier. She was the one who had set up the meeting at the Ministry.

I was glad to have good news for her. "Yes, they let me in," I said, giving a little hop-skip. A hand tapped my shoulder. I turned to find Harry standing there, a letter in his hand.

"Your list of school things, Lovella," he said, handing it to me. I took it reverently. "If you need help buying anything…" he began, but I forestalled him.

"Bellatrix Lestrange does have a very impressive vault," I said, a small smile playing at my lips. I had intended to make a joke, and it worked – Harry knew only full well the contents of Bellatrix's vault, having stolen from it several years before. Not that I had ever seen the vault which I took money from – the vault that Bellatrix had left for Voldemort's daughter – I had never seen Gringotts, after all.

"That she does," he agreed with a chuckle. "I'll go then; Ginny is probably at her wit's end with our two boys."

Janice forestalled him. "I had heard about the birth of your second son, Mr. Potter. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Harry said, pride evident in his voice. Suddenly the enthusiastic father, he pulled an awfully dilapidated wallet out of his pocket and pulled out two pictures. One showed a toddler zooming around on a toy broom, his black hair blowing back and his amber eyes laughing. The other showed a baby boy, waving fat fists at the camera, his green eyes wide and just a shock of black hair starting to sprout on his bare head.

I sidled away as Janice poured over the pictures. I walked down the hallway, my eyes stretched wide with wonder at everything. I wasn't supposed to leave Janice's side, but I was too entranced. I had spent most of my life locked away in Janice's old house, her fear for me making it almost impossible that I be let outside. Most Aurors would be only too pleased to kill me, I was sure.

So it was in amazement as I watched paper messages flap past, darting down the hallways, and to see workers pass here and there, some absorbed by papers and the like, others merely staring at me curiously as I passed – most didn't really recognize me, so I smiled at them bravely, and they smiled back.

I was wandering along, quite aimlessly, just content to search out the labyrinth of the Ministry, when I collided with something large – and solid.

Skinny and frail as I was, I was knocked down to the floor, landing with an ungainly oof. I looked up, about to tell the loitering person exactly what I thought about them. I didn't expect him to be so close.

"Whoa, sorry about that. You okay?" A hand reached into my vision and I grabbed it, allowing the boy to haul me upright. I dusted myself off and opened my mouth. My first real sight of the boy's face made me speechless.

His hair was glowing silver, not like an old man's, but like moonbeams. He was tanned and his face was beautifully angled, looking as though it had been made by a master sculptor.

He was the first to speak again, a small grin spreading across his face. "Enchante, mademoiselle. I am Louis Weasley. What's your name?" He stuck out his hand, and I took it timidly, shaking it this time. He looked to be about my age, now that I could look at him properly, which astounded me all the more. He was much more sophisticated then me – of course, he hadn't spent his life shut away in a hovel, but few people had, probably.

I winced, knowing that his question would probably send him scurrying away from me. "Lovella Riddle."

His eyes were calm though, and he was smiling again; it took my breath away. "No, seriously? Wow, so you're the reason my uncle toe-dragged me in here this morning." I bristled slightly at his tone, but he was laughing.

"Relax, I was just kidding. I actually came to get my stuff from Diagon Alley. My mum and sisters are on an extended vacation in Paris, and since I didn't feel like heading to Egypt with my dad, I hung around here."

"You're Bill and Fluer Weasley's son?" I guessed.

"Of course; you've heard of me, I see! After all, I am quite famous." Much to my surprise, he slung an arm over my shoulder and towed me away. "Well, more Uncle Ron then me, but still. Come on, let's head to Diagon Alley."

I frowned. "I'm supposed to wait for my aunt." I had been calling Janice my "auntie" for years. It just made things less complicated, and she was probably the only witch or wizard on the earth besides me unafraid to claim that she was Voldemort's kin – and she wasn't actually his kin.

He laughed. "Apparently, but you didn't, so you might as well come with me now." So I slogged on behind him, unable to break his grip and not really wanting to; I had never hung out with a wizard my own age, or seen Diagon Alley. Suddenly, the importance of keeping Janice with me all the time wasn't so important anymore. I couldn't even remember why I should.

I'm not sure how Louis managed to do it, but somehow he got us out of the labyrinth and onto the crowded London streets. I gazed around in shock at the heavily swarming streets. I was positive that I had never seen so many people in one place. Even the Ministry was dwarfed in comparison.

I could tell that Louis was watching me carefully. "How often do you get outside?" he asked, grabbing my shoulder as we darted out into traffic.

"Not much," I admitted on the other side. He continued his relentless pace to the substation Janice and I had used to get to the Ministry. "I used to go out more when I was little, but before today, I hadn't been outside in…three years, I think."

He just shook his head as he paid for our tickets. I had never seen Muggle money before either. I stared at the flimsy piece of paper Louis called a one-dollar bill all the way to the corner that held the Leaky Cauldron.

He pulled me off the subway and out into the daylight. I tried to hand him his money back, but he shook his head. "Keep it," he chuckled. Then he pulled me into the Leaky Cauldron.

Hannah Abbott, the landlady, broke off in mid-greeting to Louis when she spotted me. She clutched the dishtowel she was holding and gulped before twirling around on high heels and clacking quickly away. Louis didn't even seem to notice; he pushed me through the dim bar out into a messy courtyard. He pulled a wand out of his bag.

"I'll be a second year," he explained when he saw my wide eyes. He began tapping on the bricks, in no order that I could easily spot. "You know we're not supposed to use magic out of school, but this is more like a conformation that you're a wizard. Don't want any Muggles stumbling into Diagon Alley by mistake; of course, they'd just think they'd gone insane." That made me laugh quietly.

The brick wall seemed to melt away, and before us stood Diagon Alley. Gringotts towered above it all, its white marble easily offsetting the cobbled streets. Witches and wizards bustled everywhere, not bothering to look at the two new arrivals as they rushed about their business.

"This is incredible," I breathed. Louis grinned. I gawked at the shops as we passed; I had no idea where Louis was taking me, and I didn't particularly care. It was enough to be staring at the packed streets, watching everyone bustle around me as though each and every one had a purpose that I couldn't begin to ascertain. Louis began pointing out shops that lined the cobble streets.

"Madame Malkin's – best robes anywhere. Oh, look, there's the Quidditch Supply Store – Father gave me money, I have to stop there and pick up a new pair of Keeper's gloves. Ice cream shop – it doesn't have a name anymore, used to belong to an old bloke that went missing – " here, Louis paused. "Before," he finished lamely.

"You can say it," I said bitterly, looking across the street towards the ice cream shop. "My father was the worst – that doesn't even begin to cover it – and I know it."

Louis seemed to shift awkwardly. "Yeah, but it was rude for me to say so."

"You didn't," I said, flashing a grin. There was an awkward moment of silence. Though I had forgiven him, Louis still felt awkward.

"Come on," he said suddenly, grabbing me by my arm. I gasped as he dragged me into the Quidditch store. I had never seen so many brooms in my life. Janice had taught me how to fly on one old Cleansweep, but it wasn't the same as these. These brooms were elegant, top-of-the-line, and built for speed.

Louis grinned at me, his wild smile making me confused. "I'm going to get you a present," he declared, and pulled me up to the counter.