Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 13: My Evil Father

 "Yes..." he whispered, "... Yes, so you do speak Parseltongue... you are my daughter."

I was out of breath. I couldn't say anything else, I was so mortified. I'm supposed to believe that this is my real father? Looking like a snake man on the back of Professor Quirrell's head? Huh? Why is this? Did some Dark Magic backfire on him and— while somehow preserving his soul— do something so horrendous to his body that mom considered him dead? Figured he was dead? Pretended he was dead?

Then I realized that we were speaking to each other in the snake language, a combination of hisses I remembered also doing automatically with the snakes at the zoo. Dad had referred to it as Parseltongue. I remembered reading something similar to the word somewhere else... where did I read it from?

"What... what happened to you?" I managed to ask.

"Ah... what I have become concerns you.. that's touching. What has happened is that I can only have form when I share my body with another. Quirrell is the only person willing enough to do this for me, my faithful servant... the only thing that can strengthen me is for Quirrell to drink the blood of a Unicorn, but they are not in the Forbidden Forest until the springtime." His voice was high and frightening, but I stood my ground, frankly feeling sorry for how he turned out. "My daughter... Melody, will you help me?"

"Before I answer that..." I said, placing another wall in my head as I thought through the safest way to ask what I wanted to know. "How do I know you're really my dad? You've got to admit this is really out of the blue, and anyone could just walk up and claim to be my father."

His smile was almost sinister, "Smart girl, you're a logical thinker." He looked up at the ceiling in thought. "Parseltongue is a rare ability to have unless passed down. But that's not the answer you're looking for. You want me to tell you how I knew your mother, is that right?"

I swallowed a knot in my throat. It's an easy guess, Melody, he didn't read your thoughts on that one. Don't overreact. I nodded, "Yeah. She already said you were both very accomplished in the Dark Arts, but that's all she was willing to tell me."

"No one was more accomplished than the two of us," he smiled. "We fought many battles together, win or lose she always had my back. She was the only one who wasn't afraid of me the way the rest of the world was. The most stubborn witch I've ever met."

I snorted, "Sure sounds like her."

He chuckled in response, "She also messed up the kitchen many times in pursuit of a dish to please me."

I stared back at him, weighing my thoughts. It certainly sounded like mom in the kitchen. There had been so many times where she told me to wash her dishes so she could keep trying to find the right way to make something she'd felt inspired to try out. It felt like only yesterday I'd come home from school to see a dozen pies on the counters with a bite taken out of each of them. Each one had a note saying things like 'too doughy' or 'not enough sugar.' I smiled at the memory.

"What do you say?" he asked.

"How could I possibly deny it any longer... dad?" At these words, he grinned broadly. "What can I do for you?"

"Meet with Quirrell and I after hours every night, here... I must see you every day and get to know you. And... to teach you some magic most first years are unable to do... I want you to be strong for me. For now, that's all you can do."