Icarus and the Untold story.
Hey guys this is my first time writing fanfiction so feedback would be appreciated :) I hope you enjoy this chapter and the many more that's to come. J.k Rowling owns all rights and characters besides my O.C Icarus.
Chapter one
(20 years earlier)
"Is this wise Albus? Severus is a loyal member of the order, if he finds out what we have done and that the potion was succesf– "Professor McGonagall started, but was soon cut off mid-sentence by Dumbledore.
"Minerva this is for the best. I have no doubt in where Severus's loyalties lie but this child I a threat. If Voldemort were to corrupt her… the Wizarding world would not stand a chance, the Order would fall." He whispered back, voice full of emotion, an impatience not usually associated with the headmaster.
"Is she really that powerful?" Inquired the doubtful old witch, her head tilting to the side as her face scrunched up staring across the room at the cot.
"Yes… her heritage will allow her to achieve great things but I fear the effects the potion might have had on her, perhaps like Voldemort she too will be unable to love or feel remorse. She could be just like him, a new dark lord." He spoke his voice taking on a pleading tone, attempting to persuade the witch that the events occurring tonight were for the best.
"But she is just a child Albus! With the right nurture –" She began but was once again quickly silenced by the Headmaster.
"Nurture may play role Minerva but not as much as one's nature, the blood of the most powerful Wizarding families run through her veins. Slytherin, and Merlin! An heir to the two, making her a relative to Voldemort himself! She was not born Minerva, but created, and we cannot risk the consequences if she turns dark." He said, whilst placing his hand on younger professor's shoulder.
With a sigh, the witch reluctantly relented "I hope you're right Dumbledore. What's the plan?"
His eyes twinkled as he answered his colleague "A magical bind. It will be as if she is a muggle, she will never know what she is. The bond will suppress her magic." Dumbledore strode to the cot where a new-born baby lay asleep, cocooned in a light cream blanket. The baby sprouted jet black hair that lay like a bird's nest on her head, messy and thick. It contrasted deeply with the rest of her, ivory skin without a blemish on any part except on the palm of her hand where a thin black scar lay running from side to side. The only indicator of what she was. The ancient wizard held his wand over the dreaming baby and began to mummer the words that would create the bond. A bright Flash of Purple was seen as the spell hit the girl square in the chest, waking her instantly as she began to scream in pain as her magical core was suppressed. Behind Dumbledore stood Minerva McGonagall, her eyes cast downward and jaw clenched as she heard the agony in the babies' cry. It wasn't until the purple light faded, minutes later and the screams died down into silence did she look up.
"Minerva" Dumbledore said looking into her tear stained eyes from across the room.
"Yes, Albus?" she said.
"It is best for you to forget about this, her. What we have done tonight is for the greater good, and in the end, that is all that truly matters." He said, his voice portraying no doubt in what he had just said, and done. McGonagall nodded, took a swift step to the right and apparated in one quick crack.
Dumbledore lent down and gently picked up the unconscious baby, looking down at the tear stained face of the baby he searched his enchanted pocket of his robe and pulled out an unused vile. Placing the vile in the path of a falling tear on the little girl's cheek he smiled as it slid in, and placed the corkscrew into the vile, preserving the tear. "It's for the greater good" he said as his face split into a full beamed smile and his wise eyes shone, twinkling. Prior to McGonagall, he too apparated away into the night, the child in his arms and fate in course.
In the early hours of the night on the edge of the entrance of the small village, there was a loud cracking noise. It caused the slumbering birds to croak and the nearby dogs to bark, whine and howl. In the middle of the street stood a lonely tall figure, he walked confidently, striding past the 'Welcome to Aberlliw' sign that greeted him. The lanky man wore long robes, oddly coloured in vibrant bold colours such as red, blue and purple. His face was hidden behind the shadow of his hat, a pointed red velvet hat as well as the man's long white and grey beard. He continuously walked until he reached the first street, glancing up he stared at the street lamp, shook his head and pulled out a small device from his pocket. Pressing the lid of the device off he collected the only lights that illuminated the little village. He did not want to and could not be seen. He continued onwards following the main street until it split into two. The one on the right leading to more houses, the other on the left-hand side, an old worn-down pathway that led to large iron gates. He turned left, walked up to the locked rusting gate, pointed his wand and whispered "Alohomora". The gate swung open with a loud thud that made him hope didn't make enough noise to cause anyone to come and investigate. Pulling himself out of his thoughts he brushed passed the now open gate and followed the trail into the dark just as the heavens opened up and rain pummelled the ground.
Coming up to a massive detached gothic house that had ivory growing up the entire length of it untamed. Dumbledore read the sign above the oak doors. He smiled to himself and pushed a part of his robe away, revealing the same sleeping girl he had taken from the ritual hours before. He walked up the grand stone stairs onto the porch and, reaching the door he placed the girl onto the floor, rang the doorbell and apparated away. Not once looking back at the abandoned child. Not soon after the old wizard left did the heavy oak doors open, casting a warm glow into the darkness of the cold, winter night and as a result revealing the baby to the surprised middle-aged man.
"Missy! We've got another one!" he shouted into the house causing the baby to wake with a startled cry. The man knelt down picking her up hushing her, attempting to settle her back down. A lively woman with a wrinkled face, bounded down the stairs of the house and rushed towards the man. "Is it hurt David?" she asked, panicking as she fluttered around the bolding man trying to look for any injuries. "No, no she's fine love from what I can see, let's get her in and settled, you take her and I'll phone social services. This is the third baby in a month." He said passing the girl to the mousy haired women. Bringing his hand up and rubbing his face attempting to wipe the tiredness away, he glanced down at the baby girl, and found the girl staring at him. "She's a heterochromia." He said stepping close to the girl. She had one bright blue eye that reminded him of a summer day and one as gold as honey. The girl began to smile and move, yawning she kicked her leg causing it to flick the blanket off and as a result causing a note to slowly drift onto the floor. David kneeled picking it up and began to read it out loud for his wife to hear.
To Aberlliw Orphanage,
Please look after Icarus.
"Icarus? what an unusual name."
(Present time)
Bellatrix Lestrange sat in the corner of her damp mouldy cell looking out of her barred window that held the view of the stormy sea. The room was cold and held a stale scent, to which would only have been attainable, through years of neglect and not cleaning. Unfortunately for the witch no fresh air ever entered the cell to remove such a stench due to the charm placed on the window many years prior. One could look out but nothing could penetrate it. The Ministry had decided that this slight trick would reduce the risk of any breakout of the ancient prison. At the time, this announcement of improvements in the defence of the asylum, was criticised by many, thinking it a waist of valuable tax payer's money, after all no one had ever escaped Azkaban. People speculated this was due to Azkaban notorious location within the Ministry of Magic, as is sat in the middle of deep waters, like a tall silhouette of a statue surrounded by nothing but salt-water, as land was out of sight in every direction possible. Thus, making it impossible to whomever held residence there to imagine their self anywhere else but in the dark prison. The black-haired witch watched as the waves crashed against the solid stone of the prison bouncing of like hail hitting the rock-hard ground. She sighed as she looked up from the sea to the sky, knowing that the dark colours where reflected from the hundreds of dementors that flew around, guarding the building and thereby creating one giant cloud of blackness. This had been her life and her home through and through for the last fifth teen years, a never-ending supply of darkness.
Disgusted by the sight before her eyes Bellatrix turned her head away looking around her cell and the items within it. To say the cell was small was an understatement, the room only had space for one occupant as the cold rusting steel bed took most of the area up, a fact that Bellatrix didn't mind as most of the other prisoner's beds had collapsed and corroded over the years due to the harshness of time and the horrible weather that correlated with the Pacific Ocean. This was also true for the older witch, as the harsh environment and stress of living here and the devoid of light causing harsh punishment to her once luscious black hair, now struck with white, and knotted together, mimicking that of a bird's nest. Her teeth too had rotted away with her mind due to the years spent in the tiny cell, and malnourishment had caused her face to shrink into itself, her eye sockets now more pronounced, with dark shadows underneath contrasting with her pale skin. In other words, Bellatrix, the proud daughter of the noble house of Black was a shell her once powerful and beautiful self. The only thing that had grown with her in the hell hole was her darkness, her loyalty to her cause to the dark lord who for unfortunate reasons had been defeated by a Child! But the tattooed arm of the dark witch still stood out proudly and boldly. Proving to her that all those years of pain were worth the cause and her loyalty was worth it. Because Bellatrix Lestrange knew that the Dark Lord had risen and this time she vows he would not fall.
"Bang!"
Bellatrix raised her head from looking down at her arm, turned and stared at the view that that made her smile, show her rotten teeth and laugh, a wicked screech that rang, echoing for miles and miles around the prison. She could feel for the first time in years freedom as the salty water clashed against the side of the prison and sprayed onto her. Staring out of the now huge hole that ate at her cell where her narrow window once was, she saw him, and her people. He was back, and now, so was she.