The woman screamed, a low, moaning sound riddled with pain. Her body was covered with sweat and her hand gripped the nurse's robes, ripping the seams. Her bulging belly convulsed, and she screamed again.
"Dalia, you need to push," the healer said from the end of the bed.
"My husband," Dalia cried. "Carl, where is Carl?"
"He got held up, dear," the nurse said soothingly. "He'll be here soon."
"Dalia, now!" The healer said. "Push!"
Dalia did as she was told, screaming in pain. The heavy, thick sent of blood filled the air, and the nurse beside her smoothed her hair back in a calming manner. "Everything is alright, deary . . ."
But things were not alright; the babe was born, and the healer looked down on it with horror. It looked like a regular baby. It sounded like one. But she knew what this was. She knew whose blood ran through its veins. Her eyes darted to the pillow to her left. The baby was so weak. It would be so easy . . .
No. She had to save her family.
She cut the cord and bundled the child up, handing it to the nurse. "It's a boy," the healer said coldly.
Dalia wept with joy, but it lasted only a moment. Her body suddenly seized and the healer rushed to work. She did all she could, and finally leaned away after the screams had faded away.
A man suddenly rushed through the door, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Dalia! Is she okay?"
The healer stood. "Carl . . . I'm sorry. I did everything I could."
Carl blinked, not understanding for a moment, before falling to his knees beside the bed. He grasped his wife's cold hand and sobbed.
"Dalia, no! No!"
"Quiet!" the nurse hissed. "He is coming."
The door creaked open with an eerie silence. His face wasn't visible under his black hood, and he made hardly any noise as he walked across the room, stopping when he reached the others.
"My wife!" Carl snarled, standing. "Dalia is dead! She is dead because of you! You promised that you'd leave us alone if we did this for you, and look at her! Dead!"
"Crucio," came the soft voice under the hood, raising his wand.
Carl fell to the floor, withering in pain.
"I'll kill you!" Carl panted. "I'll go . . . to the Order. I'll go . . ."
"You've served your purpose. Avada Kedavra."
Carl was still with the flash of green light. The nurse hugged the babe to her chest, and the healer stood tall.
"We've done what you've asked, sir, now please release our sisters," said the healer.
The man in the hood walked towards the nurse. She shrunk back on instinct, clutching the child tighter.
"That is it?"
"H-he," the nurse said. "It's a boy."
He drew back his hood, revealing the white skin and slits for a nose. No compassion showed for the child in his red eyes. He looked cold and evil as ever.
"You've done very well for Lord Voldemort, sisters," he said softly. "I will spare your pathetic lives as you bring up this child."
"Yes, my lord."
"If you should fail me," Voldemort said. "I'll kill you all."
He was gone from the room, and the sisters collapsed beside each other.
"What are we going to do?" the nurse cried.
"What else can we do?" her sister replied, looking at the baby with hatred. "We raise the Dark Lords child and we live."