My Father's Legacy - Fred Weasley 18+

A young girl squealed in a fit of giggles, running through the grass behind a tree to hide. The man with raven hair chuckled, trotting low to follow her. He crouched slightly and a playful glint flickered in his eyes as he watched her gold curls peek from the side of the tree, her big eyes glistening from her laughter. Her eyes caught his and she yelped again, a sound so beautiful and joyous that it could wake the fairies. His feet shuffled after her as he chased her in a loop around the tree.

"I'm going to get you! I will I will" he cheered, laughing more and more.

Suddenly she was on the ground in a thud, having tripped on the uneven ground. A small noise jostled out of her upon impact before she let out a whimper.

"Oh little one it's okay, let me see, let me see" he coddled, rushing to her aid with a layer of calm knowing she would indeed be perfectly fine.

A small giggle released from her lips as she rolled over, gleaming at her favourite person with a glint of mischief.

The girl couldn't have been more than 5, and already she had a strong and cheeky character. She did indeed trip, and her knees and hands were grazed, bloody and bruised, they stung and they itched. But it didn't matter, she knew he would be there to help her.

His eyes reflected back the same level of mischief- a playful growl released from his chest as he grabbed her hands and kissed them, before lifting her up and kissing her knees as they dangled in the air.

"Oh you're alright, you're alright aren't you?"
He chuckled and she giggled.

-•-

Ellen's screams echoed through the chasms and caves of Azkaban, waking and taunting other prisoners who were destined the same fate. The dementor continued to drain the last of her happiness, and along with it, her will to live.

"Please!" she finally sobbed, her voice hoarse and her jaw struggling to find words from her years of silence.

Her hard exterior finally crumbled after 5 years of endless mental and physical torture at the hands of dementors, unapproved visits from Azkaban guards, and ministry officials. All of whom aimed to rinse her of every single moment and memory in her life. All to uncover her darkest secrets and her likeness of the late Voldemort. Her Occlumency finally gave and her barriers collapsed as her last happiness was sucked from her.

She felt her frail body succumb to the ice cold water that drenched her, the Official's wordless swish warded the dementor away from her and back to its other duties. Boiling water followed pierced her skin further, seeping into the fresh gashes and cuts in her skin from the last week's lashes. She cried out "I'll give you everything! Please!" Gasping and clutching at the gravel beneath her as she fell to her knees, conceding.

Ellen barely acknowledged the lack of ice cold water on her skin that she expected to follow as part of her morning torture regime. She sniffed and scolded herself internally for allowing herself to beg, but it was half hearted at most. She couldn't fight anymore, she was done. Boots shuffled towards her small frame that was curled into a ball on the floor, tangled in chains. They stopped in front of her, and she felt the person crouch before her.

"You need to let us in, or it'll continue, and it'll get worse, Ellen"

With no strength to form words she hummed and whimpered, nodding her head as she looked up at Harry Potter.

—•—

"Do you, Ellen Lillian Riddle, vow to provide every account and memory relating to your relationship with your father, Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, without resistance and tampering?" Minister Shacklebolt's authority filled the domed courtroom, currently seating hundreds of Officials, Aurors, witnesses, including the likes of the Golden Trio and a few other Hogwarts alumni. Some were families that were victims to Voldemort's Death Eaters, or even of himself, others were pardoned followers who were present solely to be sure Ellen wouldn't spill certain secrets that could risk their freedom.

Her eyes glazed and darted around the room, catching sight of platinum blonde hair that was likely there to intimidate her, but she didn't care anymore. Her wrists itched against the metal restraints that held her to the chair placed in the middle of the room. Twisting them anxiously, avoiding making direct contact with everyone other than Shacklebolt and Potter, she nodded her head, "I do, yes I do". Her delicate voice cracked and as if on cue, a wave of whispers radiated around her.

She listened as the Minister ran through the plan of extractions and announced the questioning processes.

Over the next few years - or however long it took - she would be subjected to voluntary as well as forced memory extraction. Many of which would be in the presence of audiences such as this one, public hearings where victims and survivors would be able to see the truth behind her actions and decisions, in hopes they could finally find peace. The process of each extraction would conclude with said persons having an opportunity to respond and react to the viewings of her mind, to speak what they need, and finally offer a verdict on her innocence.

The bang of a gavel made her jolt and release a small yelp in shock at the loud sound that sealed her fate for the next however long.