Hello and thank you for reading. This is something I wrote with three facts in mind: 1) I need practice writing multiple POVs, 2) I won't get any better without feedback of some sort, and 3) this was an idea with no real plot so I could do whatever with it. So, just keep in mind this was written for practice, so it's pretty rough. And incomplete. I meant to finish, but I short-circuited...so this will be like a drabble where I add things as they come to mind. There are dates to inform you when I wrote something out of chronological order. I've never written any of these people before, by the way, so OOC, I guess.
Also, I come up with completely random (and unnecessary) ideas...you will definitely see some. Weird things come to mind when I'm bored.
Almost forgot to mention this, but I removed around half of what I wrote under Nov. 1st, so there is a bit of a leap in events I'm not sure if I should clarify.
Enjoy! And maybe review! (I know there's a lot of mistakes.)
{PROPHECY}
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the third month dies...And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the third month dies...
{SACRIFICE}
November 1st, 1981, St. Mungo's Hospital, Private Ward
Tears burned in Lily Potter's emerald green eyes as she stared down at her two babies, one sleeping soundly in her arms and the other cocooned within a magical infant care unit. After fighting for four years, hunted and hidden away for two of those, the Second Wizarding War had finally ended. While all other inhabitants of the hospital celebrated and cheered for its end, Lily cried silently for the cost - in lament and relief. She had been able to save her baby, but only at the concession of her soul mate and husband, James.
Voldemort was finally dead, but now she wasn't sure what to do in this time of reprieve. When she and James had learned of the prophecy, she had combed through the Potter's ancestral home library and found the most powerful blood wards that guaranteed protection simply for the price of a single life given. Being far better at the charms and ancient runic denotations required to set up the ward, Lily had originally intended to be the sacrifice, but when she attempted to activate them, she nearly lost the baby she didn't know she had. Because of this, she was forced to transfer the ward over to James while she went to St. Mungo's.
She had hoped they would never need to use the ward, it was mere insurance that, while draining to the sacrifice and surroundings, could remain dormant for a lifetime and be activated at any time, but they did. And she was left to care for James' and her children, Charlus and Harry, who would now have to live a difficult life with no father and their own individual complications.
Lily had felt the exact moment the blood wards were activated. She had known the exact instant her husband's magical core was willingly given to Magic herself in order to eradicate the Dark Lord and disperse the remaining miasma of magic after death. Her heart had broken, but she knew she had to remain strong for her remaining family, especially when her baby Charlus was now being accredited with the defeat of Voldemort.
The Boy Who Lived, they called him. Lily had wanted to obliviate the title from existence immediately when she heard it. Not only was it spreading through the entirety of Magical Britain, and no doubt neighboring countries, but the person who started the unnecessary and unwarranted title was Albus Dumbledore himself. Her old headmaster was a kind and wise man, far more powerful and benevolent than most, but he acted without consulting others far too often and without consideration for those his actions concerned. The old wizard had mistaken the rune she'd drawn on Charlus's forehead as a link to the ritual for the mark stated in the prophecy, which was partially understandable since the ward had carved it into his skin as it took affect and absorbed ambient Dark magic.
She suspected there may be more to that, but that did not give Dumbledore the choice to tell the entire world Voldemort was defeated by Charlus. She would never tell him the truth however. He had been lenient during the war with the Grey and borderline Dark spells they used to incapacitate their enemies, but he would never accept the blood ward they purposefully erected, regardless of the results. While not wholly biased towards the Dark, he would attempt her to persuade her to let go of the magic now that the war had ended. Even if she did give up the magic she learned, he would still keep an eye on her, just in case she ever fell for the temptress Dark magic was.
How he'd even gotten ahold of Charlus was a question that went unanswered. All the normal wards around the cottage in Godric's Hollow hadn't fallen even when the structure had, and as Dumbledore hadn't been keyed to any, he should not have been able to go inside and get Charlus. Only Sirius, Remus, and Peter were, since they were also the only ones allowed in when they'd locked down, but like she and James, they weren't blindly devoted to Dumbledore. Had one of them given Charlus to Dumbledore despite that? But nothing short of life-threatening would cause any of the 'Marauders' to go against their mutual distrust.
Had something happened to one them? None of them had contacted her despite all three knowing she had remained in St. Mungo's since Harry's birth three months before. The ward she was in was under heavy protections meant to keep high status or at risk patients away from prying eyes, but they wouldn't have much trouble reaching her since they were listed as trusted contacts. The fact that none of them had come immediately after the news of Voldemort's demise had become common knowledge was worrying. She knew for certain that Sirius would only need a single moment to hear of his best friend's, practically his brother's death to race to his godsons.
Yet none of them had.
Something else was happening.
She looked to the burning fireplace in her room thoughtfully. The Floo was open just in case she wanted to call the cottage in Godric's Hollow or anyone else. Perhaps her best friend Alice would know what was going on.
{TRIALS}
November 2nd, 1981, Ministry of Magic, Courtroom 1
"Sirius Black is hereby found innocent in the case of betraying the Potter's as their Secret Keeper and mirder of twelve Muggles civilians. He is however charged a fine of two hundred galleons for the endangerment of exposure of magic. So shall it be. Release him! This case is dismissed."
Lily stood from her seat as the magically binding chains fell limply from her friend's body and he launched forward to her.
"I'm so sorry, Lily! James died because of me," Sirius Black sobbed, hugging the wife of his best friend desperately. "And I couldn't even kill that traitorous rat!"
"It's okay. Come, let's sit, Sirius. There are more trials to go," Lily said gently, leading him to where she was seated amongst the Wizengamot.
After contacting her friend Alice Longbottom and learning what happened between Sirius and Peter, she had claimed the empty seat left for a Potter scion, a right she received when she became dowager to the Potter House at James' death. It was the only way she could be allowed to attend the trial. Normally, it would have been impossible for a Muggleborn, but she had the endorsement of Augustus Longbottom and unexpected support from Arcturus Black, the current Lord Black. The former was to be expected since she was the mother of one of her closest friends and an ally to the Potter family, but for Arcturus to involve himself despite Sirius being disowned was shocking.
Sirius had been the most shocked in the room when his grandfather had stood up to allow him a trial and later permitted the use of Veritaserum. He had been abandoned by all but his uncle when he ran away at fifteen, after all. Lily couldn't blame him for the skepticism he held as they took their place between Arcturus and Augustus, he closer to his relative.
Arcturus wore a severe expression on his aged, deathly pale features. "Such displays shall wait for when we are in private," he said sternly. "I expect better of you, Sirius, from here on."
Sirius visibly bristled at his words but didn't make a biting remark as Lily placed a calming hand on his shoulder, silently reminding him with a look where they were. He grimaced and settled down reluctantly. "Of course, honourable Grandfather," he murmured sarcastically in acquiescence.
Lily knew better than to expect more and remained peripherally focused on the next trials of the day - Sewayn, Wareroot, Harbein, Worple, etcetera - people used as fodder to boost numbers. Most of her mind was on the trials of what was obviously Voldemort's inner circle and more valued Death Eaters that had occured right before Sirius'. Almost none of them had been sentenced to little more than a substantial fee and a demand for their services without charge. She was disgusted but unsurprised by the claims of being under the Imperius Curse, compulsions, or threat to join. Some were probably true, but many - i.e. Malfoy, Parkinson, Goyle, Avery, the first of whom she personally met wands with during the war - were far from forced.
And then there was Severus. How he was detained despite his unmatched ability to disappear whenever he wanted to and his far from sub-par dueling abilities was a mystery to her. That was, until Dumbledore, Chief Warlock and one of the highest figures in the trial, stood up and defended him, claiming he had been his spy and pivotal in many decisive battles. In other words, he lied. He lied for Severus whom likely had never attempted to aid the Light - as far as she knew; he was thoroughly Dark, and there was little that could urge him to he suddenly seek a change in affiliation - but did not even stand in protest for Sirius. Even if he hadn't been aware they'd switched the Secret Keeper from Sirius to Peter, he shouldn't have remained so silent. Dumbledore had seemed to have thought the same since he was so shocked and regretful when the truth came out though, so she didn't entirely grudge him.
She was overall happy that her old childhood friend was finally free from Voldemort. She'd lost him to the Dark Lord when they were teenagers and she hadn't seen anything more than dubious glimpses of him during the war. She was surprised to see he hadn't changed much more than he had from the Severus she used to know. When he had spotted her during his trial, she had seen the familiar concern and relief that flashed across his face before a mask of calculated blankness covered it and he looked away. More mature and observant than she was before taking part in the war, she had the feeling she might not have entirely lost him when she ended their friendship like she thought she had. Maybe they could put everything that happened behind them one day and mend their friendship.
The most publicized trials, however, was among those who were unable to escape imprisonment. Specifically, the trials of Bartemius Crouch Jr. and the Lestranges, who had all participated in the attempted murder of the Longbottoms. She was a bit torn on Barty, since he had been a year below her at Hogwarts and she was somewhat acquainted with the former Ravenclaw, but she had no personal thoughts on Rodolphus, his wife Bellatrix, or Rabastan. All four were vicious fighters, particularly Bellatrix with her famed brand of Black madness and fanatic devotion to Voldemort. Barty was similar, though he wasn't as conspicuous about it on the battlefield with his preference to attack fatally before announcing his allegiance.
The presence of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Sr. and Arcturus Black made the trial more of a spectacle than anything. Lily thought there would have been more composure from people who prided themselves in their so-called pureblood composure and nobility, but there hadn't been. There had been several trials where the jurors or Wizengamot members had raised an uproar she'd expect more from crowds at a sporting event. It was just another instance where she noted how little divided wizards from those without magic and how blind the wizarding world was.
Once all the trials had concluded for the day, she departed with Augustus to the Longbottom manor where she had left her sons in the care of Alice and Frank. Sirius went with Arcturus, almost against his will, to 'reconnect with family'. Lily was sure there was more to it but didn't voice any questions knowing people like Arcturus were never very open about their affairs. So she thanked him for his aid and left to return to her children.
That night, after relaxing from hours spent sitting still in a seat with a failing cushioning charm, she was seated with the Longbottom family in a comfortable sitting room drinking tea. Lily thought it was unfortunate there conversation wasn't nearly as pleasant as their setting.
Augustus, naturally, was going straight to the heart of the matter from the very beginning. "You have accepted the duty of Dowager of the Potter House, before you have even learned what that title entails, but you cannot ignore your responsibilities now that you have them," the elderly woman said, voice and gaze strong. "I was one before Frank came of age and you will be as well until Charlus does. Seeing as you weren't raised in this world, you are woefully unprepared."
Lily nodded at her words that were, in essence, a scolding. She had accepted the role without considering the responsibilities, but she didn't regret it. She had saved Sirius, and she would have had to taken the role eventually, even if quite a bit later. "I understand there is a lot I will have to learn, even more so because the Potter's are an old family with undoubtedly several businesses and properties, but I want to do the best I can for Charlus and Harry," she stated, gazing at the woman determinedly. "Will you please teach me so I can make the best future for my boys?"
Augustus was silent for several moments, scrutinizing her with a gaze nearly as intimidating as an incensed McGonagall's. "I will help you." She held up a hand to prevent Lily from voicing her gratitude. "But I am old, child, you must also go see the goblins and make connections with others closer to your age. My old teachings can only take you so far with the world changing as it is lately."
Lily felt a tinge of doubt - connections? The connections to be made undoubtedly included people who by far would never want breathe the same air as her, let alone share a common goal - but steeled herself and nodded. "I will do it."
For the future of her children.
{BLOOD}
November 2nd, 1981, 12 Grimmauld Place
Sirius couldn't ignore the urge to hunch in on himself as he entered his childhood home, expecting his harpy of a mother to start screeching at him the moment crossed the threshold. To his surprise, there was only silence. He wouldn't say it was peaceful, considering the faint but strong, familiar tendrils of Dark magic, remnants of countless Black men and women reaching centuries before, stirring around him, caressing him as if to say 'Welcome home'. His heart twisted a little. It was bittersweet, this home. While he had come to familiarize the touch of magic with home, one even the Potter manor couldn't replace, this house was also the place where his mother tried to mould and shape him into perfect Black servant to the Dark Lord, only to turn around and renounce him when he couldn't.
His mother had made it impossible for him to return.
Why wasn't she here now? She hadn't received a mark and couldn't be charged on mere grounds of suspicion. She should've been distraught and throwing things around because of her precious lord's demise. The house seemed entirely whole to him from what he'd seen so far.
"Walburga has taken the time to visit the residence in Venice for the time being," Arcturus informed him, likely reading his expression as easily as an open book with bold text. "She will not return for at least a month. Assuming she listens to me, that is, but you know how your mother is; never hears advice over that incessant chatter of hers."
Sirius snorted softly, shoulders relaxing a fraction. He had never been particularly close to his grandfather, but he hadn't thought the old man possessed a sense of humor. He'd always thought of him as too severe and cold. "Did Reg go with her? I'm guessing she dragged him away before the Aurors could even consider identifying him. Mummy's boy probably had no choice in the matter!" He barked a half-hearted laugh, looking at passing portraits who either turned away from him in derision or smirked as if pleased by his return.
He missed his little brother. Regulus was always perfect in comparison to him when it came to his mother's expectations, and he'd always resented him for it, just a little. He hadn't wanted anything to do with his mother's imaginary vision of reuniting with Voldemort, but...that didn't excuse just leaving him to her mercy. He wasn't oblivious to the extra demands his mother had gradually piled on his younger brother right before he ran away. Nor was he unaware of the direction she would eventually push him towards. Yet he had still left him.
Six years. He wondered what he was like after six years.
Another long moment passed before he realized his grandfather hadn't answered his question. "Grandfather?" He said uncertainly, clearing his throat when his voice rasped. He'd nearly torn his throat to shreds after meeting with Peter, the traitorous rat. The madness in his blood had gotten away from him and he'd shouted murder - pity he couldn't inflict it more permanently - at the vermin.
"Regulus did not accompany your mother," Arcturus told him, glancing at him. "He is here."
Sirius blinked slowly, feeling a familiar niggling in the back of his mind that he'd developed during the war. A niggling that signified a whole new storm of fiendfyre he didn't want to cross. "Why hasn't he come down? Have his manners grown dull since the war began?" He joked, not feeling half as humored as he sounded.
Arcturus didn't answer again. Instead, he snapped a finger. "Kreacher."
"Yes, Master Lord-" Kreacher had bowed upon appearing, but soon caught sight of Sirius. An ugly sneer twisted the old house elf's face as he pointed at him. "Master! Mistress' dirtyblood loving son is here! Mistress said he can never return! Why is he- "
"Silence, elf." Arcturus ordered and was instantly gratified with obedience. "I know very well what Walburga has said and you shall disregard it. I am Lord Black and Sirius is, and has always been, Heir. You shall treat him as such and I will never hear another word spoken to him as less than befits him."
Kreacher's eyes widened, revulsion clear on his face, but he bowed in compliance. "Yes, Master."
"Good."
Sirius could only gape in disbelief, at both his grandfather's words and Kreacher's easy, but forced, acceptance. He was what?
"Now, I called you for a reason. Sirius and I will be in the lower chambers. I want you to remain up here no matter what you feel. Only come if one of us calls." Arcturus said. "Am I understood?"
"Yes, Master."
"Come, Sirius. There is a matter I cannot settle alone, unfortunately," Arcturus stated, turning and continuing to walk smoothly.
Sirius gaped for a second longer, not even deigning to react to Kreacher's farewell scowl of disgust, before snapping to and pursuing his grandfather. "Wait, Grandfather! What do you mean I'm the Heir? I was disowned. I no longer have the right!" That was Regulus', it became his when he ran away. Why was it returned to him?
He fought not to think the worst, but knew it would only hurt him more to hope for the best.
"We will speak of this later," Arcturus said briskly, not looking at him as they reached an out of the way door - invisible to those not of Black blood, he sensed - that lead to a cobble stairway. His grandfather removed his wand from his robes and circled it in a peculiar figure in the air. "Scendere." Descend. The stairs began lower quickly, spiralling not unlike the ones to the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
Family magic. Sirius could feel the magic from the command and his heart ached once more. He'd missed it, more than he'd ever confessed to James, his brother in all but blood. He shook his head roughly to force himself to focus on the matter at hand. Where was his grandfather leading him? He hadn't been aware there was a stairway like this in Grimmauld. What did his grandfather mean when he told Kreacher to stay away no matter what he felt? Were they about to participate in some sort of ritual? He wasn't especially against them, only the considerably Darker, Blacker ones - and he wasn't referring to family rituals - incurred his flat denial, but he wasn't going to play a part without being told anything. Lily and Remus had scolded him enough for his recklessness in the past.
Sirius held his silence though, choosing to observe over demanding the truth. His grandfather would close up faster than his mother faced with a homeless Muggle if he tried to demand answers from him.
He was rewarded immediately for his choice when he began to feel the family magic grow thicker in the air. It was not uncomfortable by any means, but they would've been practically swimming in it were it more tangible. He'd never felt it so strong before. It was as if a ball of it was coalescing in one point, pulsing like it possessed a living heartbeat.
Arcturus spoke moments before they reached their destination. "Sirius, I'm sure you've noticed, but I am no longer at my prime," he said, a non sequitur to Sirius' mind. "My health has seen fit to follow and is slipping out of my hands very quickly."
Sirius frowned in slight concern. He noticed the older man was pale and seemed exhausted despite the front he'd pulled in front of the Wizengamot, but he hadn't thought the man was sick. He'd been going strong for almost fifty years, so for his health to fail him while he was only in his seventies was alarming. Such a powerful wizard should at least pass a century before feeling a decline. "Why am I here?" He enquired carefully. "What do you need me for?"
"Over a year ago, the family magic activated without conscious casting," Arcturus began to explain. "Usually, that is impossible, but there are special circumstances that cause the magic to start without prompting. The magic will only activate for a person within the line of succession if there existence is endangered and their magic is unable to actively fight. This is taken as a sign that the person is either being controlled by another or they are critically, magically exhausted."
The stairway stopped as they reached another door, but Arcturus made no move to open it yet.
"Either of these scenarios, or those of similar consequence, cause the family magic to believe there is an emergency and bring that person back home." His grandfather continued. His grey eyes grew darker in the gloom as he turned to look at Sirius. "It brings them home, and in the case that the person is in critical condition, they are put into a magically-induced coma. The only way to awaken them is for someone of immense magic, the Lord on most occasions, to give them a shock of magic to 'crack' the shell of magic."
Sirius's mouth went dry. No. His grandfather wasn't being serious. He- Regulus would never do something to endanger himself to such an extent. But he was the only person he could be talking about with his mother away. Regulus was a Snake though. He had intelligence and self-preservation leading him from the nonsense Sirius would easily leap into. Reg wouldn't ever risk so much, he wasn't that kind of person.
"My magic is not what it used to be, Sirius. It is no longer able to sustain extensive use. It has already been too long," Arcturus sighed, weariness leaking into his voice. He stepped forward and turned the knob of the door. "I need your help to awaken Regulus. He has been poisoned, and it is not a mild one by any means. The handiwork of Voldemort himself."
In the center of a wide chamber, the body of his younger brother levitated in the air, sheathed in invisible but thick, powerful vines of family magic like a cocoon. Thick, black veins of what could only be tainted magic stood out against his temples and cheeks, and his face was twisted in a mixture of pure bliss and harrowing agony.
Sirius felt his heart break. This was what he left Regulus to. Now he was going to lose another brother to Voldemort.
He wouldn't allow it.
He turned to his grandfather and flicked his wand into his hand. He met piercing dark grey eyes, his magic eager to be released from the control rendered taut after the last two days. "Tell me what to do."
{MAGIC}
November 8th, 1981, St. Mungo's Hospital, Private Ward
"Lady Potter, we've determined the effects of the ritual on Harry Potter."
Lily watched the baby she could not touch - unless she wore goblin-woven, magically impermeable gloves - swaddled in protective charms sadly. It was her fault her child was in the position he was now. When she'd tried to take her place as sacrifice for the blood ward that would protect Charlus, she had been completely oblivious to the child growing inside her. She had only noticed when there was a peculiar sensation in her abdomen as she attempted to link her magical core to the ward in a ritual. Though she hadn't thought she was pregnant at he time, she knew something was amiss and cancelled the ritual, which hadn't been carried out too far. Unfortunately, she hadn't done it soon enough.
When a baby was developing, they relied upon the magic of their incubator while their own core was still developing. Their core is incredibly sensitive and fragile within the first four months, and any significant change in magic, such as magical exhaustion or a spell that disturbs magical flow from the core, was potentially detrimental for development.
After being told to go to St. Mungo's by James, Lily discovered she was ten weeks pregnant. The bump between her hips was barely noticeable, so it wasn't a surprise she hadn't noticed with her mind focused on ensuring protection for her first child. But she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she caused her child to have difficulties with magic, or worse, if she made him unable to use his magic.
Harry was born three months before, small but healthy. Physically, at least. Lily had held him for less than ten minutes, James barely a moment at all, when the Healer cast diagnostic charms and quickly removed Harry from her arms. He was put into an infant care unit that isolated him from all magic aside from ambient, naturally healing magic. The Healer had only explained afterward that there were irregularities within Harry's magical core so they had to block out any possible agitations, and he would have to remain in the hospital for observation.
Lily stayed with him while James stayed home with Charlus. James had already performed the ritual in her stead, so he had to remain within their cottage to strengthen the ward's latent affects. He only got to meet Harry three times before Voldemort killed him, perishing only after facing him in a duel on the vestiges of magic that remained after the ward absorbed much of it did.
She wondered how he would have received the news she was now hadn't Voldemort attacked.
Healer Agaura, an older woman with traces of eastern features, delivered the news gently but completely straightforward. "Harry's core is as developed as most are at three months, however, the protective shelling of magic that encases it is underdeveloped. The shell usually forms during the second month of pregnancy, but the ritual you performed interfered and disturbed the magic that was supposed to be devoted to it."
Lily was aghast. She was no expert on cores but it was common knowledge that the encasing around the core protected it from being invaded by magical parasites and malignant magic. If it was too thin, then Harry was at risk for illnesses and attacks that even average wizards easily avoided. "What does this mean?"
The Healer gazed at her kindly. "This means that he is vulnerable to most ailments that attack the core, and that his control of his magic will be tenuous at times. The shell also serves as a container of sorts, as you may know, so his magic will leak out, likely causing accidental magic to occur more frequently for him than other children."
She nodded in understanding, deciding silently to study more on the matter and find a way to limit the vulnerability of his core. "Is there anything else?" She questioned.
"Yes." The Healer walked over to her position beside Harry and took her hand. "Magic is...sentient in a sense. It moves to our commands and emotions, but at times it acts as if it has a will of its own." Lily gazed at woman questioningly and allowed her to pull her hand closer to the unit Harry was in. "There is another reason we kept him inside here. His magic is acting already, despite how young he is, in a way that could be dangerous should something sudden happen. This could possibly hurt someone, but it also grants a way to calm and comfort him."
"How?"
The Healer guided her hands through the membrane of magic, casting visible ripples across its transparent surface. "Can you feel his magic reacting to you? Twisting and coiling around your hand as it seems whether you're a danger or safe?" She asked softly, and Lily nodded, eyes wide with fascination. "You need to assure it you'll do no harm. Assure with your magic that all you feel is the need to love and protect. Can you do that?"
Lily nodded. It wouldn't be too hard despite the lack of a wand. Some instances in potion making required use of handling ingredients with hands encased in magic and minor use of wandless magic. This wasn't too different. All she had to do was add her intent.
"Lightly," Healer Agaura instructed. "You only need a thin coating, any more could be harmful to Harry."
She gently cupped her baby's soft cheek and pushed her magic into her hand, slowly forcing it with slight difficulty to expel from her pores in a layer that was almost impossible to perceive, even as she poured all her love into it. There was a moment where there was no change from the magic tumbling and swirling around her hand, but in an instant, it became docile, lazily tracing shapes into her skin faintly. In the care unit, Harry's eyes blinked open to stare at her. Not five seconds later, he nuzzled his cheek into her palm and closed his eyes to sleep again.
Lily teared up and stroked his silky black locks. He was okay. Despite her mistake, he was okay and his magic was intact.
She would ensure that it remained that way.
{FAMILY}
November 10th, 1981, St. Mungo's Hospital, Infant Ward
"Everything has been checked out appropriately. Please come to us if you believe our aid is necessary. You are free to take him home now."
Narcissa Malfoy nee Black nodded to the Healer and smiled elegantly. "Thank you, I'll be sure to do so," she said graciously, and turned to the infant sleeping in a charmed crib. She waited for the Healer to depart to lower her mask and coo at the adorable child. The infant was almost as beautiful as Draco had been, except with dark curls instead of pale blond locks. "I didn't think I'd ever get a second child. I suppose Bella being sent to Azkaban was not entirely a curse but a blessing as well."
Completely oblivious to the fact he'd just been orphaned and then adopted, six-month-old Raphael Lestrange lay contently in a baby bed. After his parents, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, were imprisoned, Narcissa had worked her way through the Ministry department that oversaw the welfare of children for an entire week before she could take him. Her husband's known affiliation to the Dark Lord had delayed matters, but since she was closest to kin - beside her eldest sister Andromeda, but Andy didn't even know her nephew existed - she was able to adopt the boy.
Raphael had been a surprise when he was conceived, mainly to the two parties involved in his conception. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had never been the closest couple, but the war drew them together when they had to fight back-to-back. Their child was soon conceived, likely in the aftermath of an especially intense battle - Narcissa knew how her older sister got at times - and the couple was pleasantly surprised. Or they were until Bella remembered they were in a war and if she was pregnant, that meant she would eventually not be able to fight by their lord. Bella threw a lovely tantrum until their lord snapped - she shuddered just recalling the malicious magic he'd released in his ire - and threatened to remove her from the battlefield early if she did not stop.
Narcissa was still amazed by the tolerance the Dark Lord held for Bellatrix, but her sister was one of his few protege, so it wasn't too surprising.
When Bella was six months pregnant, she was no longer allowed to fight due to the risk to herself and her baby. So no one would notice she was missing, Barty had replaced her by using Polyjuice and utilizing a level of acting skill even their lord praised. He was the reason no one was aware there was another Lestrange until Narcissa, designated as Godmother, had formally registered his existence in the Ministry. He'd been taken into the care of the government for a week before she got him back.
He would not be motherless, despite her sister's absence, nor would he be alone. Lucius was fully aware of her actions and she was certain Draco would be delighted to have a younger sibling. Raphael would be happy with them.
She lifted the child into her arms, careful to not wake him, and covered him in a cloak spelled to keep away most eyes. She couldn't risk taking the Floo or using a Portkey, so she'd have to go to a designated Apparation location. Apparation was risky as well, but she didn't want to be walking through the Alleys when word began to spread of the newest Lestrange's existence. There was going to be another uproar, particularly from people aligned to the Light and maybe some Neutrals, about him being adopted into the Malfoy family as a ward.
It would change nothing, however. Raphael was her nephew, and she wasn't planning to lose another part of her family.
{LOYALTY}
January 24th, 1985, Albania, Unknown Forest
Bartemius Crouch Junior tore off the feminine robes constricting his movements as he landed unsteadily out of Apparation. Quickly transfiguring his clothing to trousers and cloak, he began to stumble through the growth of what looked like a forest. He was stunned he hadn't splinched himself after Apparating with no destination in mind - only the words far far away from here shouting inside him - but he didn't stop moving. He'd just managed to free himself from his father's Imperius and escaped from him while he was distracted by diplomats and politicians. His father had made the mistake of drinking more wine than he ought have, risking the fine control required of the Imperius Curse.
He'd waited over three years for this. After the trial sentencing him to life in Azkaban, his mother, always so loving and sacrificing, exchanged places with him and died in his place, and he was condemned to being forecfully Polyjuiced into her, restrained beneath the powerful compulsions of his father. It was a pity he couldn't kill the man before his departure. They'd been at a ball hosted by the Minister of Greece, and he'd, naturally, had to attend as his father's plus one since he couldn't remain in Britain.
After several minutes of travel, Barty felt himself begin to waver and stopped, leaning against a tree as he struggled to catch his breath. He'd lost some of his stamina on the three years he was trapped in the manor. This wouldn't do. His lord wouldn't accept him the way he was now.
"I have to find him..." He whispered hoarsely, tongue darting across his dry lips. "He's alive, I know he is. Someone so great could never be defeated by the likes of the Potters." He settled his back against tree, pushing himself into foliage to cloak himself in case his father realized he'd let his magic slip and was able to track him. Exhaustion immediately seized him. "His mark...still lives..." He murmured before going limp.
The slightly malnourished man didn't know how long he'd slept, but when he awoke, it was to a faint familiar shock of pain through his left arm. His brown eyes shot open in shock and recognition, but before he could open his mouth, a thick rope of pure muscle curled around him form, effectively incapacitating him.
And then the rope of muscle hissed in his ear and he knew.
It was a snake.
It was a green snake.
Nagini.
"Nagini!" Barty gasped eagerly, relaxing his body so the snake wouldn't decide to constrict him further and break something. "Are you searching for our lord as well? He's alive, I can feel it! His magic lives! He's near!"
Nagini hissed again and he felt her tighten around him. A moment later, the slender head of the snake gracefully whipped from poising fangs at his neck to being face-to-face with him.
He met slit crimson orbs.
Barty's heart actually stuttered as he stopped breathing. "My Lord...?" He whispered, astonished, awed. Only his lord could have fooled the entire world into thinking he was gone. "My Lord- "
His voice became strangled in his throat as the snake suddenly hissed and he felt magic - utterly familiar dark magic - viciously slip through his mind, bypassing whatever protections remained after his tenure under the Imperius, to touch his memories. His entire life flickered before his house, from the time he was a child wondering why his father never had time for him, to the time when he met his lord and gained his most trusted mentor, to the time when his father locked him away in a cage like a bird whose only purpose was to be observed.
When the images finally stopped, a voice that would've driven him to his knees hadn't he already been on the ground hissed in the contours of his mind.
'Barty...you have served me well...' His lord said, his pleasure at what he'd found in his mind audible.
"I..." Barty swiped his tongue over his lips and swallowed. "I am unworthy, my Lord." He had not served him nearly well enough. He'd gotten caught when executing his orders, merely because he'd lost his temper at hearing his lord's...untimely demise. And then he had allowed his father a chance to Imperio him, in a moment where he let his emotions get the better of him as he said goodbye to his mother. He hadn't been able to seek his lord for three years! He'd failed him!
'Barty...you have not failed me...'
He gazed up at the snake with the eyes of his master in a mixture of disbelief and hope. His lord did not carelessly dismiss failures, nor did he easily forgive. Perhaps he truly hadn't failed like he'd thought. Did that mean he wouldn't be discarded even though he had outlived his usefulness?
'My loyal servant...I still have much use of you yet...'
"Anything!" Barty gasped, offering himself much like he had the day he had received his mark. "I will accomplish anything you wish of me!"
His lord chuckled - he stilled in shock, it had been so long since his lord had done so, what had changed to bring it back? - and Nagini's form loosened around him. 'I need you to aid me in my search for dear treasures lost to me...but first...' The snake completely uncoiled from around him and the image of a village full of wizards and magic imprinted itself in his mind. '...I need you to acquire some ingredients for a ritual...'
Barty didn't even consider what price a ritual his lord casted would cost as he leapt to acquiesce. "Of course, my Lord! I will acquire only the best for you!"
His lord's pleasure and a faint fondness that, hadn't he already pledged all of himself to him already, would've made him do so now. He was his lord, his liege, and his master; everything he wanted and needed and didn't deserve.
'...We are going to create me a new body. There is still much I need to accomplish in this world.'
{FRIENDS}
September 1st, 1992, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"RAVENCLAW!"
Harry Potter smiled widely as he removed the funny old hat from his head and strode to his uproariously applauding house. Most of the hubbub no doubt stemmed from his brother Charlus, the Boy Who Lived, but that hardly mattered to him as he took his place between his two best friends. On his right was a pretty blond who smiled lazily at him as she draped a necklace made of leather-like white vines around his neck. She was Luna Lovegood, his self-appointed 'spirit guide' since the age of six when they met in a primary school. On his left was a brunet with a permanently fixed bored expression whose only acknowledgment was a satisfied glint in his dark grey eyes. Raphael Lestrange, the boy he'd become acquainted with since before he could count due to their parents being business partners and tentative friends.
They made his arrival at Hogwarts far easier than it would've been after so many years of being able to freely travel around the globe at every change of the season. Now he would have to remain in one place for ten months and only get to visit his favorite places - the lily water sprite resort in the alcove of Niagara Falls, the wild Phoenix habitable zone in China, etcetera - during the short breaks he had in between. It was going to be a hard adjustment, especially since there were so many people around and his magic did not like it. No one around was exactly the paragon of magical control, and his active magic could sense that.
Thankfully, his older brother was also close by, though he was in Gryffindor, as was to be expected of his adventurous sibling. Without even glancing over at the Lion's table, he knew Charlus was sulking childishly. His brother had boasted to his friends how Harry would be joining him in the den and the things he'd teach him now that he was there at Hogwarts. They both had known what house suited him better, but Charlus had still insisted he would be a lion. It was so like him, considering how attached at the hip they'd been before Hogwarts. Though it was a combination of Charlus' magic being among the only to actually calm his and Charlus' overprotective habits that caused that. He couldn't depend on his older brother forever though, and his sorting into another house only proved that.
"Harry! Eat, or I will tell Charlus you've overlooked your health for a round of introspection again," one of his closest friends drawled threateningly, piling mashed potatoes and then salad on his empty plate. "Don't want him to come over and spoon-feed you in front of the entire school, do you?"
Harry graced him with a dull expression absent of amusement. "Do so and I'll tell Drake you've snuck into his hair products again," he retorted, lips contorting into a pleasant smile. "Don't want a repeat of the first time when you mistook a hair-curling cream for shampoo, do we?"
Raphael sent him a sneer that would have made their Uncle Severus proud. After years of being tutored by the Potion's Master, both of them could mimic a few of his classic expressions, but Phae was the better at making them perfectly his own. "And who was the one who decided it was prudent to follow a Whomping Delliuh into its nest and attempt to adopt one of its chicks?"
Harry grasped his covered collarbone where a deep purple scar lay, the result of the mentioned event that still throbbed ever so often. It was only thanks to his Godbrother, Neville, that he wasn't permanently paralyzed - thank Mother Magic the older boy knew how to handle the bird-plant hybrid creature. But that wasn't an experience he enjoyed, more for the resulting punishment and scolding from his mother and brother than the injury. He still shuddered years after, the punishment was too cruel to relive, even in his memories.
He twisted his face with betrayal. "We swore never to speak of that!" He hissed, and turned away to lean on Luna, who allowed him to do so as she hummed a random melody. "Luna, Phae's betrayed me! I don't think I could ever trust him again."
She played along gladly and patted his head indulgently. "The Sarrena Warmites have claimed his mind, next is his heart," she declared solemnly, eyes gaining a faraway quality. "He shall be lost by night's end."
"We shall mourn him." Harry concurred gravely, looking in the same direction before closing his eyes. "But we shall live in his memory. We shall curl our hair until the end of our days, just like he always wanted."
"Oi, that's enough. Just eat already."
Harry and Luna laughed at Raphael's exasperation and all three proceeded to enjoy dinner, all the while selectively oblivious to the strange looks they received from their classmates. Harry couldn't care less what they thought, Luna and Raphael were his friends and he'd act however he liked with them. They were among the most dear to him in his life, and that was reason enough for him to discard the rest of the world around them.