~ September 13th 1980 ~
Malfoy Manor
Bellatrix Lestrange was bored.
She wanted to be out there, fighting in the Dark Lord's name. But instead, she had been ordered—by not only her husband and sister, but also the aforementioned Dark Lord—to stay at home and rest until the baby was born.
That damn baby, she cursed internally. It was all Rodolphus' fault.
She was due any day now. Her sister, Narcissa, was due in early June—she was only about a month pregnant, and already planning the baby's room in the large Malfoy Manor. The sisters were pretty much opposites, not only in appearance. Narcissa couldn't wait for her little baby. Bellatrix, well, she never wanted a child in the first place, but was happy to be providing her Lord with a future follower, and, although you'd never get her to admit it if you tried, secretly a bit anxious to meet the little daughter she'd been carrying and nurturing. She was skeptical of course, but, in some ways, her pregnancy was useful. Being tortured with the Cruciatus might hurt the baby, so she had not been cursed with the Unforgiveable in months. And she got out of missions. Of course, she loved to serve her Lord, but by no means enjoyed the risk of being captured by Aurors, even if it was fun to see them squirm under pressure…
As she was so close to her due date, her husband was here, with her, at her sister's home.
In the large mansion, it was only Bellatrix, Narcissa, Lucius, Rodolphus, and Rabastian, Rodolphus' brother.
Bellatrix had been pondering which house elf she would call to use the Cruciatus Curse—didn't want to get out of practice, did she?—when she suddenly gasped.
"Cissy!" she shrieked, clutching her inflated abdomen.
The younger sister tore into the woman's room, her blue eyes wide. "What is it, Bella? Is—is something wrong?" Lucius and the two Lestrange brothers were right behind her, alarmed by the expecting woman's shriek.
The dark, expecting woman groaned, but shrieked, "The baby! My water just broke!"
Nearly nine hours later, the pregnant woman was in labor and still screaming as the contractions got worse and worse and the baby came nearer and nearer. They'd quickly moved her to the bedroom in which she and her husband were staying in.
Her husband was behind her, supporting her, as she squeezed his hand tight as she could, cursing and screaming at all of them, but mostly him.
Narcissa was acting as midwife, Rabastian and Lucius fetching whatever she requested--scratch that. The small, petite blond woman was shrieking orders at them that the two men dared not disobey her.
"Come on, Bella!" Narcissa coaxed her elder sister.
Then, a new sound filled the air, drowning out the sound of Bellatrix's labored breathing: a young baby girl's breathing
Narcissa wiped blood from the tiny infant, wrapping it in a warm blanket before handing it to its mother.
"Congratulations, Bella." She said, smiling, relieved. "It's a girl."
The exhausted woman took the infant in her arms with curiosity the harsh lines of her face.
As Bellatrix held the tiny child against her breast, the girl opened her wide eyes.
The girl was almost the mirror image of her mother as a newborn.
She was a small infant, rather thin with long limbs. Her skin was like porcelain, very pale and smooth, but still covered in small amounts of blood. Her small amount of still damp, curled, dark hair was pasted to her head, but it was clear that it was a dark brown, similar to Bellatrix's, but lighter, like Rodolphus' brown hair. Her pale face was heart-shaped, her chin pointed instead of Bellatrix's strong jaw. Her intelligent eyes were lighter than her mother's black eyes, rather a deep chocolate brown. But, even as a just-born infant, you could see how easily the infant looked like her beautiful mother. They had the same thin nose, the delicately arched eyebrows, regal-looking high cheekbones, and full lips, as well as the traditional patrician beauty from the Black family that was so well known in the Wizarding World.
But the lighter hair and softer features reminded the two sisters of someone they'd rather forget: their other sister, Andromeda.
The little infant looked up at her two parents, who were staring at the child, quite surprised and unsure what to think of the baby.
It was Lucius who spoke first.
"Hey, doesn't she look like—what's her name—Andr—"
But he fell silent at the sharp look his wife sent him. "Don't you dare speak that blood-traitor's name," she hissed fiercely.
"Er—" Lucius corrected himself, "—doesn't she look awfully like you, Bellatrix?"
Rabastian ignored the two. "What will you name her?" he asked curiously, quietly.
The two new parents stared at the child, thinking.
"What about naming her after her mother?" Rodolphus asked, grinning almost cheekily at his wife. She rolled her eyes.
"Two Bellatrix's in the same home?" she asked doubtfully, sarcastically. "Oh no, that won't be confusing at all."
"Well, something else then…but she should be named after you, still….What about Isabella?"
Bellatrix nodded her approval.
Narcissa smiled to her elder sister. It was a Black family tradition to name children after stars, constellations, comets, et cetera. Isabella happened to be the name of an asteroid.
Bellatrix smiled—oddly enough—softly down at the infant, who was staring up with those intelligent eyes at her mother.
"Isabella Marie Lestrange…" the Death Eater decided, the girl's fate already sealed.
At that very moment, many miles away in Scotland, in a small room above a rather dirty pub in the small village of Hogsmeade, a very significant meeting was taking place, unrealized yet by the participants.
Albus Dumbledore was interviewing Sybil Trelawney for the position of Divination teacher at Hogwarts. The aging Headmaster was about to give up on the woman, and was turning to leave, when he heard the woman's voice changed, becoming deep and ominous:
"The two with the powers to vanquish the Dark Lord approach…one born a traitor to her family, and having escaped them as an infant…with nearly unrivaled powers, she will be born to his most loyal followers…and the other shall be born as the seventh month dies…he shall be born to those who have thrice defied Him…Opposites in nearly every way in birth and blood…and the Dark Lord shall mark them as his equals, but they shall have powers the Dark Lord knows naught…and either they or he will perish at the hands of the other, for neither they nor he can live while the other survives…The two with the powers to vanquish the Dark Lord approach swiftly…"
Hours later, the old Headmaster was sitting in his office, pondering the prophecy he'd just heard, dissecting it precisely and carefully.
It obviously meant two children would be born soon, who would be destined to defeat the Dark Lord, at least, according to the prophecy. One was the daughter of two loyal Death Eaters, the other a son of a couple who had defied Voldemort three times—in other words, a child of a member or two of the Order of the Phoenix. How interesting, he mused, a child of Death Eaters and a child of the Order of the Phoenix. Opposites in nearly every way in birth and blood… How true.
And somehow, they were destined to defeat Voldemort, if the prophecy was true—a Death Eater daughter and an Order son—together. Interesting…
Hm. Voldemort would 'mark them as his equals'? Well, he'd just have to wait to see how that played out…
Powers the Dark Lord knew naught? It had to be love. Voldemort had always been woefully ignorant of the power of love, the Headmaster knew.
But then, the last bit. 'Either they or he would perish at the hands of the other, for neither they nor he can live while the other survives'…Curious. Very curious…
He sighed, stroking Fawkes, before standing to head to his rooms.
He'd just have to wait to see how it played out…