This is the introduction to the Alexis Lestrange Series, which began as a what if question. What if Bellatrix had a child and the father was unknown? How would the Ministry take this? How would Dumbledore? What would change in general? Clearly, this is my opinion/view/idea/daydream of the what if and will consist of all three books.

Other facts you should know: Dumbledore will NOT be evil/manipulative, Snape is the same as Snape really is, Ginny does NOT exist in this series, Cedric is a year above the twins, and some characters will be shown in a new light that is either a little different or a lot different.

Lastly, I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT THE UNKNOWN CHARACTERS AND ANYTHING NOT ON HARRY POTTER WIKIA! If I'm leaving anything out, please tell me so I do not offend or plagiarize!

And finally to my lastly, enjoy!

To Begin with...

Bellatrix Lestrange née Black held her stomach with an unexplained certainty. In fact, she had never been so certain in her life about what she was feeling right now and not even the dementors that soared around the dreary stone walls of Azkaban were able to stop her from smiling. She was with child, something she never thought would be possible. But here she was, two months into her sentence, and there was no doubt about it. Pregnant. Her.

However, the lighter-then-air feeling a soon-to-be mother gets during her pregnancy didn't last long for Bellatrix. The moment the Ministry of Magic caught wind of her sudden joy Junior Minister Cornelius Fudge and a ban of Aurors were sent to investigate. It didn't take them long to figure out the cause of this joy and even less time to call a meeting to decide what action to take.

"The child must be killed!" shouted Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, his mouth foaming with anger.

"Nonsense, it is only a child and a pure-blood at that," Lucius Malfoy fired back in his calm demeanor. Moody glared at him, not sure why a once believed Death Eater had a say in the matter, Imperius Curse or not.

"But are we even sure who the child's father is?" added Barty Crouch Senior. He looked tired and weather worn ever since his son had been sent to Azkaban. It had led to his wife growing deathly ill to the point that she was actually on her deathbed just like her son.

Albus Dumbledore noticed this just by listening to Crouch's voice but Dumbledore said nothing on the matter. He simply stood away from the crowd of wizards and listened.

"You can not kill a child!" shouted Lucius, his calm demeanor officially gone. He was standing face to face with Moody, both men with their hands twitching over their wands.

"And what would you suggest we do then, Mr. Malfoy? Allow Lestrange to raise a child in Azkaban? I'm sure the dementors would make marvelous babysitters," growled Moody sarcastically.

"Of course not," said Lucius, his demeanor calm once more. "Bellatrix, is, after all, my sister-in-law. Allow my wife and I to raise the child with our son-"

Moody let out a sneer, "Oh yes, let's the Death Eater have the unborn child!"

Dumbledore finally stepped in, breaking up the fight that was about to happen before it could start.

"Now gentlemen," he said calmly, "let us all get along, shall we?"

Either out of respect or knowing that a fight with Dumbledore would get them nowhere fast, both men curtly nodded in agreement.

"Thank you Albus," said Fudge. "But I have failed to hear your suggestion on the subject. Should the child live or die?"

All eyes fell on the weary face of Albus Dumbledore. For once, the old man looked his age as he was called upon to answer a question he had very much wished to never answer but wasn't foolish enough to believe he wouldn't have to in the end. After all, he was a hero to most of the men in the room, a legend even. The man who defeated Gellert Grindelwald, the last Dark Lord before He Who Must Not Be Named, and yet Dumbledore wonder if these men would look at him with the same respect they had now if they knew the great error he had made all those years ago, the great mistake even worse than befriending Grindelwald in his youth, the mistake that had led to a new and even worse Dark Lord than Grindelwald. This was a mistake he could not afford to make again and yet he could not decide which action would prevent such a mistake from happening.

Finally, with a long draw of air, Dumbledore spoke.

"There is a high chance that this child is a Lestrange and as such it should be raised by its closest kin, that is, Lucius Malfoy and his wife." There was a small uproar and Lucius flashed Moody a triumphant smile. However, Dumbledore continued, "But if there is even the slightest chance that this child, this unborn babe, is that of the Dark Lord," everyone fell silent, "then I fear there is only one thing we can do."

Dumbledore never said what that thing was. He would not. He could not. Even with his experience and wisdom, Dumbledore was unable to suggest the execution of a child, let alone a unborn babe. Fudge, however, was able to pull his own answer out of Dumbledore's words and summoned a young wizard with brown hair over. He gave the wizard his orders to execute before giving him the key to Bellatrix's cell. The young wizard looked up a Dumbledore and for a second there was a pause. Dumbledore knew the young man. He was Tomas McPherson, an old Griffindor graduate from two years pass. Dumberdore stared at the blue in the wizards eyes before McPherson turned and left the room, a grim expression on both men's faces.

What had he done?

…

Tomas McPherson held his wand tightly in his left hand. He still remembered how in his youth his friends used to tease him for being a lefty. They would call him Southpaw. The thought for some reason made him smile, a strange thing to do when surrounded by dementors, who quite literally sucked the happiness out of the air and anyone near the dark creatures. As he approached Bellatrix Lestrange's cell he realized just how nervous he was. He had only started working for the Ministry but his skills and prestige training had brought him up in the ranks faster then anyone before him save for his uncle. Yet he had never taken a life and the thought of his first execution being an unborn child frightened him. He wondered if his uncle had ever killed a child.

'Shut up' he thought to himself as he opened Bellatrix's door. 'It's evil. It belongs to Bellatrix and him... It has to be evil... Right?'

McPherson's eyes stared down at Bellatrix. The mad woman and Death Eater looked surprisingly peaceful in her spell induced sleep. Her hair was matted and unkempt far more than McPherson had expected for someone that had only just spent a few months in Azkaban but he doubted it had stayed prim and proper longer than a week anyways. Personal hygiene was probably low on a prisoner's care list. Nonetheless, Bellatrix most definitely looked at peace while unconscious, no doubt because she knew she was pregnant.

'She won't even know her child is gone...' McPherson thought with a sick grimace. 'She'll never even get a chance to defend it... Shut up!' he yelled at himself.

With a shaking hand, McPherson drew his wand and pointed it at the sleeping mother. He didn't say the spell aloud, nor did he exactly know what spell he had used. He only knew that there was now a very small, precious child lying in his arm. It wasn't even the size of an American football, which made since seeing that it could barely be six months old. There was little hair on it but he knew it was a raven black like its mother's.

"It was a girl," he whispered, to Bellatrix's unconscious form. His throat felt as if it was on fire as he said those words, his stomach twisting into knots, as his eyes watered. He didn't have it in him to kill the child in front of her mother, despite the fact that she was unconscious and unable to see him do so. He turned to leave the cell and take care of the deed he was ordered to do when the child's eyelids opened up revealing two beautiful emerald colored eyes that stared into his very soul.

McPherson felt the child speak to him, not in her words but in her touch and in her stare. He heard her voice despite her being to young to speak to him.

'Protect me...'

The words played through his head over and over. They brought out memories he tried so very hard to forget. Images of a small girl with strawberry blonde hair running for her life danced through his head hauntingly. She screamed his name and he screamed hers in returned but the girl was silenced by darkness.

McPherson held the child close now. Tears were streaming freely down his face but the young Auror paid them now heed. He had to save her. He had to protect her without the same failure as before. He looked down at the child and smiled faintly.

"I will."

….

Fudge was growing inpatient and slightly worried as he waited on McPherson's return. He couldn't fathom what was taking the young wizard so long to complete his task. He turned to Moody in order to send him out and find the boy the doors to the chamber flew open.

"McPherson is gone!" yelled the guard as he stumbled into the room panting.

The room suddenly fell into an uproar with everyone was shouting and demanding answers. No one seemed to notice the small smile that had slipped on Dumbledore's face.

'Thank Merlin.'

….

As soon as McPherson's feet had settled on the ground outside of Azkaban, he apparated to Northern Ireland. He appeared in a deserted street of a small town he had only visited twice in his life and started walking. He kept walking all night only stopping once to wrap the child in his wizard robes. He found this best for two reasons: one, she was only a babe and would probably die in this weather without something keeping her warm, and two, he didn't want to draw the attention of the Muggles to himself. He thought that he was very lucky to have had decided on wearing Muggle clothes underneath his robes today.

When they had reached the town's only inn McPherson tightened his grip on his robes and the babe. His exhaustion had finally hit him as well as the realization that he had no idea what he was doing. All he know was that he needed to find a safe place to rest for the night and to keep the child safe.

'I must keep her safe,' he thought as he handed the innkeeper some Muggle money. He had only just passed Muggle Studies in school, thanks to some expert tutoring, and had never quite got their money system down but whatever amount he had given the innkeeper must have been a lot because the old man's eyes widened and he showed McPherson to his nicest room.

Once the door closed McPherson carefully unraveled his robe and gently picked the child up again. He could tell she was cold and he cursed himself for not using a warming charm on her before hand. He washed her carefully in the sink, he low body temperature scaring him more than he thought it should.

'What if she dies?'

Suddenly the child let out a small cry of laughter easing McPherson's fear. He began to sing softly to the child and laid her on the bed. He continued singing softly until she fell asleep before he too found himself asleep, his wand still being tightly held in his left hand while his right hand cradled the babe carefully against him.

.

Two months had passed before McPherson had deemed it save enough for him to take the child away from their safe house and out of the country. He decided against apparating with the babe again, seeing that she was so small and he had only done it the first time out of necessity, so he had walked her all the way to the docks. It had been easy to convince a captain to allow them aboard, although he felt that it had more to do with the man looking into the child's eyes then it did with his sly tongue.

The baby girl had an effect on people and McPherson could tell even without reading the Muggles' minds. However, when he did read their minds, he tightened his grip on the child. Muggles had dark thoughts.

"What's her name?"

McPherson's eyes shot up, his hand falling instinctively on his wand just as his uncle had taught him. Had he fallen asleep? No. He had been staring into the child's eyes again. They had calmed him to the point that he had no idea what was going on around him.

"Sorry, I just wanted to know her name."

McPherson looked up at the owner of the voice. It was a young woman with brown hair and hazel eyes. She was decently pretty, for a Muggle.

"Oh her name is..." McPherson's voice trailed off and he looked down again. He hadn't thought about naming the girl and didn't know where to begin. Should he name her after her mother? Bellatrix? No. Perhaps he should name her after his mother? No. He thought back to the girl, the one he couldn't save. He wasn't going to fail her again.

"Alexis. Her name is Alexis."

The faintest of smiles fell on the child's face.