It was dark and cold. The quiet, dry, lifeless cells, that hid the faces of the many unstable inmates did not make him feel any better. It was a mistake insulting a ministry personnel, but he was the one. He was the one that put his family to shame. That man slept with his wife and bore that disgusting child, the child who did not deserve his name.
She was not his daughter. Why he constantly believed she was never his own was because she was just too stupid. If Ogden tried to protect his daughter, they probably had relation.
Where he got the insane idea, that Ogden was his daughter’s real father, merely fascinated his messed up mind. It was funny though, because at one moment, he felt like laughing at his ridiculous accusations, and at another, he felt like crying. He often blamed his emotional turmoil on the presence of his daughter. And despite trying to disown her at any given reason, he knew she was his.
She was his daughter, there was no doubt, but he still hated her and it was more than her falling in love with a muggle named Tom Riddle. Every time the Dementors came to suck the life out of him, he would be reminded of why his hatred was so overpowering. The only happiness he had would be destroyed and crushed with the rising memory of her death. His beautiful, elegant, Emily’s death.
She was his. She was beautiful. He missed the way she kissed him and the way her eyes would sparkle every time she smiled. Oh, she was a beauty. Her long gold hair, and her dark brown eyes against her pale complexion, were imprinted so vividly in his mind that no matter how hard he tried to forget, he could never do so.
Now with the presence of Dementors, it was harder to push her from the tip of his mind. Once they came close enough, he would remember the day.
It was October 24th, 1907. Emily was in labour, but she was early. Their daughter was not to be born till the middle of December, and when Emily screamed the news, he rushed to the nearby town, searching for a midwife. When he finally found one, he ran back to their little cottage, shouting at the midwife to hurry up all along the way.
It was supposed to be a happy day. They were about to have their first daughter and Emily was looking forward to the day where she could hold her baby girl in her arms. But the moment their daughter was born, Emily became too weak. She bled too much and before she could lay her eyes on her child, she died.
Days after her death, he would lock himself in his room, leaving the crying baby to his young son. He couldn’t even go near his newborn child. She had her eyes and every time he looked at her, he felt a strong hatred towards the baby girl. And the more he reacted to his daughter, the more his son mirrored after him. It was as though he contracted a disease and his son was infected too.
The only reason why he kept the baby girl was because she looked more and more like Emily as she grew up. She had the same gold hair, and the same sparkle in her eyes. She had the sweetest smile, just like her mother. But she was not her mother, she was a murderer.
He was disgusted at her existence but he knew he had to take care of her. Emily would not have wanted him to get rid of their child.
So he bore with her. But he made sure she lived in hell. She was to do all the cleaning and cooking. He did not spare her from harsh words. And to his delight, his son followed after him. But he did not realize what a man he had become and how he was such a horrible father to his children.
But his daughter, despite being abused, physically and mentally, was still so willing to stay by his side. Just like Emily, she loved him. But his hatred was too strong to bring out any love from his heart.
To him, in his insane state, she was a monster. She was a low life squib who did not deserve his family’s name. She was not his daughter.
And yet, as he sat in his cell, hoping to die, all he could think of was her. But the breath of a Dementor left an incurable disease, and he felt more deranged as the days went by.
If only he could save his soul, he would be able to utter some words of kindness to his daughter. If only he could gather what was left of his sanity, he could maybe show her some love.
Immediately, in the rarest state of his mind, he reached for a broken chain on the floor and scraped the walls, hoping to pen a confession only he would be able to read and soon forget.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a horrible father. I love you Merope. I love you just like I love your mother. You do not deserve a father like me. I wish you could read this. I wish you could know that I’m trying. I’m trying not to be the crazy, violent man that you know. Please forgive me my child. I am a lost soul, already broken and cannot be saved.’
And then, as though a switch was flicked, the last spec of sanity left him and he began violently pounding the wall, demanding his release and cursing his daughter. Marvolo Gaunt had finally lost his mind, and what was left of his soul merely sustained him till he could find last words, written on a goodbye letter from his daughter.
(This is my 1st short fan fiction accompanied by an audio track. Let me know what you think in the comments below. I hope you enjoyed both the story and the music.)