Author's Note: If you have not read Cursed Child this story will contain some spoilers. I took a few creative liberties but there are still nonetheless aspects from canon that I would be remiss as a Potterhead if I didn't warn you ahead of time. This fic will be broken up in several parts but I haven't decided on the timeline of updates.

Cries of the Augury
By Clementine Mack

And truth to tell, I fear lest you should find,
Among us here, no lover to your mind;
Which of these hearts beat for the smile you gave?
The charms of horror please none but the brave.
Your eyes' black gulf, where awful broodings stir,
Brings giddiness; the prudent reveller
Sees, while a horror grips him from beneath,
The eternal smile of thirty-two white teeth.
– Charles Baudelaire, The Dance of Death

I. Part One

Rodolphus was not a good man.

Rodolphus was a doting husband, perhaps. And certainly the Lestrange heir was a loyal Death Eater, brother and son. But in most sense of the word good, he was devoid of the proverbial moral compass.

Torture was his forte. Information extraction. He was as skilled as a maestro at the orchestra stand when it came to curses, delighting in the sight of scorched flesh the way some admire artwork in the Louvre. But even the wicked have a weakness and Bellatrix was to Rodolphus what Marie had been to Picasso. His inspiration, his muse. She was lightening splintering the sky, a forest fire laying ash to all in its path and together they were two dark souls tumbling into the abyss.

And there was a time he would have followed her anywhere.
Even into the black veil of death.

"Tell me you love me," she hissed in his ear. This was a game they played and he knew the answer Bellatrix wanted to hear.

"I will never say that, my pet," he replied back. "Love is fleeting."

And she laughed, biting his lip before kissing him hard. They were eighteen-years-old, the glint of their wedding rings on their hands even before the Dark Marks stained their arms. They had the entire Lestrange castle to themselves but sometimes would spend all day without ever leaving their bedroom. If bliss existed, it would have been housed in those memories of her inky black hair on their bed's silk sheets, the smell of her perfume that lingered on his clothes, or the scratch marks she left on his back after sex.

Black dahlias were her signature. She left bouquets of the dark blooms in vases all over their home. It was the only thing Bellatrix enjoyed growing. Destruction was more her passion. The trick to getting their petals so dark is a family secret, she told him once. They prefer the taste of blood in their soil.

He loved the way her skin glowed from the hazy red sparks of a killing curse every time she struck down an enemy. She was powerful and when he was by her side he felt invincible too.

In those early days it was still her and Rodolphus but with time he would feel her pull farther from the gravitational orbit of their private world of shared mayhem. He would come to accept that some forces were stronger than even their bond.

One such force would consume their destinies until the very end.

"He is a God, Rodolphus," she told him and her eyes would sparkle with the fervor of a devout disciple. She even convinced him that it was true. Rodolphus didn't believe in much of anything but he did believe in power. Of which Lord Voldemort possessed in vast quantities and it didn't take much convincing with Bellatrix purring in his ear. "The Dark Lord can read what's on your heart. He sees into our souls, Roddy."

If nothing else, Lord Voldemort was a very gifted Legilimens.

Rodolphus on the otherhand never had the knack for it quite like Severus so he made no effort to hide his thoughts. There was no keeping secrets from the Dark Lord anyways. He had a way for finding things out.

Rodolphus recalled one night shortly after joining Lord Voldemort's ranks officially. Each member took turns bowing before the wizard but when it came his turn, Rodolphus kneeled only to sense a shift of movement. When he raised his gaze, his brown eyes met the crimson stare of their leader.

Lord Voldemort clasped his shoulders with a fatherly warmth that Rodolphus found unnerving. His thin pale lips curved in a twisted smile, "your mind is quite a wicked place, Rodolphus."

This wasn't news to the young man then but just the way Lord Voldemort had looked at him would linger with him for the rest of his life. What caught Rodolphus off guard in that moment was assurance in his Lord's eyes that he saw every sin, every dark thought and skeleton hidden in the shadows and found these details neither repulsive nor alarming but perhaps amusing.

What most people of the Wizarding World did not know was that there were actually many things that amused Lord Voldemort. As time passed Rodolphus made a mental catalogue of these details, if for no other purpose than his own research. Lord Voldemort enjoyed the subtle panicked tone even his most loyal followers used when they spoke to him, the sickening crack bones of bones when they shatter, and also, on occasion, Beethoven's moonlight sonata.

Escaping not once but twice from Azkaban was a feat Rodolphus figured would earn him some bragging rights among criminals. After the Battle of Hogwarts he was not sure who was even left from Lord Voldemort's followers. A handful like himself had wound up in the depths of the wizarding prison but most had perished.

But there was still one family he knew remained intact, unsullied by the defeat in war. If escaping Azkaban was his crowning achievement, escaping prosecution for their crimes was the Malfoy family's.

"You should not be here, Rodolphus." Lucius paled when he saw Rodolphus lift the hood of his cloak and despite his mask of bravado, there was genuine fear in his silver-blue eyes. Rodolphus had only disdain for the man who had cowardly failed their fallen leader so many times before.

"I have nothing to say to you, traitor. My business is with your wife." Rodolphus said with a lethal tone. Rodolphus stood over Lucius, his tall sinewy frame giving him several inches over the blond man. At once the escaped convict shifted his attention to the woman who stood behind her husband with a stoic resolve. "You know why I am here, Narcissa."

With a nod, the woman stepped forward and gently touched her husband's arm. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear, only then did Lucius step aside. Standing inside the mansion's entrance they were surrounded by walls lined with portraits of long deceased members of the Malfoy family tree, all waiting with fascination for what was to happen next. They whispered and some jumped into the frame of another just to peer at the Lestrange heir.

What is he doing here, they whispered.

What is happening.

Narcissa moved towards Rodolphus and extended her hand for him to grasp. And suddenly they were gone, Apparating without another word.

There was only one reason Rodolphus had made the journey to Malfoy Manor when the Aurors would surely be looking for him by now. It was the very thing that kept him going while in prison. Because there was only one thing that kept him from succumbing to the insanity of the nightmarish Azkaban walls.

They reappeared only this time the stately interior of the Malfoy Manor was gone and they were standing just outside a forest cottage. He recognized the small home as a hideout Bellatrix and him once used years ago. They were somewhere tucked within the foothills of Scotland.

It's stone exterior was covered in moss, the fence surrounding it in need of repair. But what was most noticeable was the ambiance. The chill in the air as though Dementors were near. There was a stillness that seemed unnatural. No chatter of birds, not even a rustling breeze through the tree branches above.

The silence was almost deafening.

"You are all she has now," Narcissa whispered as they went inside. A fire was being tended to an aging House Elf, but it was nearby bassinet that caught Rodolphus's eye. "No one else must know she exists."

The maternal instinct in her and what little love she had for her late sister was all that could abate the dread Narcissa had when she picked up the infant. There was something dark about the child and the frightening chill she felt whenever she looked up at Narcissa was enough to terrify the witch.

Rodolphus was not sure what he expected to feel when he held the swaddled baby in his arms. The idea of having a child had never appealed to him and if there was such a thing as paternal instinct, he surely lacked it. And yet…

And yet something stirred in his heart when he felt the warmth of that small body against his chest. And where others had been repelled by the dark magic swirling in the child's aura Rodolphus was enthralled by it.

He recognized the familiar abyss and it felt like he was finally coming home.

"Hello little one. I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time," he said and the infant gazed intently up into his scruffy face. Her dark brown eyes were like fathomless pools staring back at him. He became lost in them. "You are every bit your mother's daughter," he added in breathless wonder.

"There is one last thing you must do for me," Narcissa said. The Malfoy woman, seemed fidgety and anxious. She didn't dare tell Rodolphus the depths of her fears about the child, the visions that seemed to plague her whenever she held the infant. The voices and shadowy figures that crept just outside her field of vision.

"Please obliviate me," she asked. "Take away any memory of this child."

Rodolphus considered her request.

He was tempted to ask why, to make her beg a little more to be relinquished from her role as an accomplice. They both knew what the existence of this special child meant for the Wizarding world and both understood the gravity of their roles as well.

Rodolphus looked at his sister-in-law and strained to see any resemblance of his beloved Bellatrix in the woman before him. Physically, both women had the striking features of the Black family with pale alabaster skin and high-cheekbones. But the similarities seemed to end there. Where Bellatrix had been like a fierce jaguar prowling for its prey, Narcissa had always reminded him of something more like a demure dove. He entertained the mental image of the bird being swallowed by devil's snare vines, its fluttering pale wings frantic in those final gasps of air. Whatever turmoil wracking Narcissa's mind, its grip was choking the very life from her.

Narcissa was fearful, her hands trembling. Bellatrix was never so weak, so feeble. The memory of his wife felt like a dull pain in his chest. Oh how he missed that wicked woman however for the first time in a long while he felt enlivened with his new responsibility to protect this child.

"Of course, dear sister," he answered. With a quiet sigh he laid the infant back down in the bassinet. Rodolphus retrieved his newly acquired wand, a memento of his last victim. He could feel it's magic balk against his command but eventually concede to his will. They exchanged a silent moment, his dark brown eyes meeting the cerulean ones of his sister-in-law. Narcissa inhaled and clutched her hands in front of her before giving an approving nod.

"Good bye, Rodolphus."

"Good bye, Narcissa," he replied and raised his wand.

"Obliviate."