Hey guys :) I know I have a bunch of unfinished stories...but this idea just hit me and I needed to get it down. Tell me what you think! And I promise to try update more. I know everybody says that but I will...starting with The Doctors Flight, because I've really been neglecting it.

Bellatrix Lestrange loved the dark lord. Everyone agreed on that. Hers was an obsessive, and unreciprocated devotion, that bordered on madness. Voldemort was incapable of love, so in turn, it had nothing to do with my birth.

Every great Wizard wants an heir to the family line, someone to continue their legacy. Though he didn't understand love, he chose Bellatrix to carry his child, and she was so blinded by her obsession, she agreed.

I've interviewed dozens of past death eaters in Azkaban and found dozens of others who still walk free. Most had no idea a child existed, and those who did were tight lipped. That didn't last for long. I eventually discovered that I was born sometime before the battle of Hogwarts and after the Golden Three escaped Malfoy Manner. I still have no idea when my birthday is exactly, or even how I was born. Most likely, Dark magic was involved.

Some say she loved me, because I was the Dark lords spawn. Some said she loved be because I reminded her of herself. Others said she actually loved me because I was her daughter. Whatever the reason, she doted on me until her death, and I was second in her eyes, only to the Dark lord himself.

I was dumped by the death eaters in an orphanage. I think I always knew I was different, I never seemed to fit in around the other kids. Things kept happening around me that I couldn't control. Drawers caught fire, things disappeared when I walked by and I could often be found in the backyard, whispering quietly to the garden snakes. By the time I was seven, people learned to leave me alone.

I had no hope of being adopted. Only the sweet, well behaved children got adopted. I was considered 'shy and 'troubled' even if the things that happened weren't my fault. There were things I could control though. I was skilled at making things move when I wanted them too, and I used to have fun making my dolls move on their own.

And that's all I thought I was, a anti-social outcast, who no one liked. A freak. It wasn't until Proffesser Longbottom appeared that I learned who I really was.

My name is Mira Black. My father was Tom Riddle, known to all as Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, or He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named. My mother was Bellatrix Lestrange. This is my story.