She Who Should be Named

It was the middle of the night. The streets were empty and quiet. This didn't help the man sitting on a bench. His wooden leg tapped the ground impatiently, but even this didn't force down his paranoia. His right eye, a vivid, bright blue color, kept twitching left and right and rolling into the back of his head.

"He's late," he grumbled angrily. He took a flask from his pocket and drank deeply when he heard a loud crack!

A tall old man and a stern looking woman wearing walked silently to Moody. He stood from the bench and barked, "You're late!"

"I am sorry Alastor," Dumbledore said. "But-"

"He stopped by a muggle candy shop to get more lemon drops," Minerva McGonagall interrupted, throwing Dumbledore a stern look.

Albus simply looked amused.

"So who's bringing the brat?" Moody asked.

"Severus Snape, he will be here in several minutes."

"And why is it that you are leaving another kid in the muggle world?"

"Merely a precaution, my old friend."

They stopped just outside the door of an orphanage. Moody resumed his paranoid glances around the area, McGonagall sniffed angrily, muttering about needing sleep. Dumbledore hummed merrily, ignoring the questioning looks he was being given by his companions. Another crack sound and a man with sallow skin and a large, hooked nose appeared. He held a bundle of blankets close to him. Once he was close enough to Dumbledore, he forced the baby into his hands.

The baby was awake, but quiet, not even crying. It looked from Snape to Dumbledore. She saw the old man's twinkling blue eyes and giggled. She reached a hand out, stretching. Dumbledore took her hand in his and smiled when she laughed.

"What's her name?" Dumbledore asked, amused.

"From what I've gathered, she wasn't named."

"Why is that?" McGonagall asked.

"Maybe Voldemort wanted his brat to be nicknamed She Who Should be Named," Moody growled.

"The Dark Lord wished for an heir, a son, to rule if he were to fail. When his daughter was born, he was most…displeased."

"Who is her mother?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange. She was the most willing."

"Do you think we should name her?" Minerva asked. "Or leave it to the orphanage?"

"I will name her," Dumbledore said happily. He took several sheets of paper and his wand. He waved his wand over them and each changed into some important looking documents and placed them inside the blanket, next to the baby.

He pointed his wand at the door and, with a click, it opened. The group stepped quietly into the room and made their way into a large room filled with sofas.

Slowly, Dumbledore put the baby on the sofa before turning back to his companions. With a nod, they headed for the door and with another wave of his wand, the door closed quietly.

Goodbye, child, Dumbledore thought. I hope to see you soon, Theresa.

Theresa yawned and fell deeply into sleep, not knowing that in several hours, she will be awoken by the sound of a woman screaming and that she will be pinched, prodded, and bullied by some of the older children.

She lay quiet, not caring that people cheered at the death of her father, huddling together, muttering: "To Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."