Cursed Child Spoilers...

PART 1

"Let's get one thing straight, first of all," he said, looking at her with a face that seemed serious, yet not unfriendly. "You are not accused of anything. Nobody's saying that you've done anything wrong. The reason we've brought you in for questioning is simply that we want to gather as much information as possible."

"I understand," Maggie said. She couldn't help but to scrutinize him as he spoke. This was the first time she had actually seen him in the flesh. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, as they had called him once. She felt admiration as she observed him. When she was younger, she had felt strange about admiring those younger than her, but it seemed to get easier with age. Most of the people she met were younger than her these days. This fine-looking, middle-aged man in front of her had still been a toddler when she began her career. Time flies, Maggie, she told herself. You're no spring chicken anymore.

"I'd like to start by checking that we've got all our facts straight," he said, picking up a piece of paper from the desk in front of him. "Your name is Margaret Miller, is that right?"

"Yes, it is. But I've always been Maggie to everyone. 'Maggie, the midwife', they call me."

"That brings me to my next question. You've been practicing as a witches' midwife for about 40 years now?" He looked at her questioningly.

"I have. In fact," she smiled, and leaned towards him, almost conspiringly "...the first child I ever delivered was none other than your wife, Ginny. Oh, I remember the smile on her mother's face, as I handed her that little girl! After all those boys, she finally got her little witch..."

He smiled nervously, she had obviously told him a fact he was unaware of.

"Really? That 's a strange coincidence. And a job well done, I might add. I mean, Gin is lovely."

"Give her my best" She giggled, glad to have learned that he had a sense of humor.

"I will."

"I didn't get to see any of your children into the world, though," she said with a sly smile. "You... took your business elsewhere, I presume?"

He smiled nervously again.

"St Mungo's. I was born there, it just seemed safer, to me, and my wife agreed. I hope you're not offended?"

"Of course not! I hear more and more young witches and wizards make the same choice these days, it's only natural that trends change. And there are still enough mothers out there who prefer a more traditional, homely setting, so I have my hands full. No worries!" She tried to sound as assuring as possible, to make him feel at ease, and his expression indicated that she had been successful.

"Right, so, you do of course know that you're here today to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about one very particular birth that you attended. The birth of the newly imprisoned Delphini Lestrange."

Maggie sighed.

"Yes. I'll tell you anything you need to know. Of course."

"Good. We're trying to piece together her life, find out who she was up until she revealed herself. And it all starts with you." He leaned back a bit in his chair. "Would you like to start by telling me where it all took place?"

"It was at the Malfoy Manor." Maggie paused for a bit. She had replayed the things that had happened on that day over and over to herself in her head many times during the past twenty-or-so years, but still, opening her mouth and actually letting the words come out was difficult.

"I, uhm, I was at home when... when they took me. I lived in a small cottage in Wiltshire back then." She cleared her throat. "I... I had just gotten up and was having my morning tea when I heard someone enter the room behind my back. I turned, and I just got a glimpse of Narcissa Malfoy before everything went dark. The next thing I knew, I was at the manor."

"You knew the Malfoys already then, I take it?" Harry asked. She nodded.

"Well, everyone knew of them. I didn't know any of them personally, if that's what you mean. I just knew their names. One of my older sisters had a sort of distant friendship with Narcissa while they were both children at Hogwarts, I believe. So I remember having seen her at our house a few times back then, but that was all. I don't think there'd been any contact between their family and mine after that... I mean, their views on muggleborns didn't really line up nicely with ours. Also, you know, they were a few social classes above us, to say the least. There really weren't any reasons for our families to interact."

"Go on", he said, grasping his quill pen firmly, ready to continue his notes. "You were at the manor?"

She nodded again.

"I was. I woke up on the floor of some hallway, Narcissa standing over me."

"Are you all right?" she asked. I rubbed my head as a way of replying. It seemed I 'd been banged against a number of hard surfaces on my way there.

"Are you all right?" she asked again, seeming genuinely concerned, her voice almost mild.

"I suppose so..." I managed, as I stood up, grabbing the hand she offered me. I was shaking with nervousness, but so far, nothing indicated that she was going to hurt me.

"Or, well, I suppose it depends on why I'm here. Why did you bring me?"

"Please don't worry," she said, obviously trying to get me to relax, but the shiver in her voice made me think she was more than a little worried herself.

"We just need you to perform your services, then you will be allowed to go. No one is going to harm you, unless you give us reason to do so."

"My services?" I looked at her waist. Not even the finest magic in the world could have hidden a baby in that figure. For a moment a whole lot of alternatives spun through my mind. Had her teenage son gotten a girlfriend pregnant? Was she caring for a neighbor, or a friend? Had her husband perhaps knocked up a mistress before getting himself shipped off to Azkaban the year before, and left his wife to clean up the mess?

Before I had time to ask any questions, a loud scream cut through the air. In fact, it sounded a bit like a mix between a scream and a cackling laugh. Narcissa noticed my surprise, and it seemed to please her ever so slightly.

"Yes, your services." She opened a door and urged me to enter. There, on a large bed in an otherwise mostly empty room, lay a woman, dressed in a black nightgown. Her belly was large, and even from afar I could notice movement inside it. Her hair was dark, curly, and disorganized, and it surrounded her pale face like a nest around an owl's egg. The woman opened her mouth and another desperate, piercing scream made me cringe as I stood there. Then the scream stopped, and the room was filled with silence.

"Ms. Miller, I'd like you to meet my sister," Narcissa Malfoy said, with an expression which indicated both a touch of smugness and of fear. It was as if she was taking at least a piece of a huge burden off her own shoulders and leaving it on mine.

"This is Bellatrix Lestrange."