We don't own Harry Potter. Any characters, places, dialogue or events you recognise from canon are not ours; we really can't stress this enough. Everything you recognise is the brainchild of J.K. Rowling and credit goes to her for their existence.


'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'
~ Sybill Trelawney, 1980

31st July, 1980. Voldemort found himself in a meeting with his closest servants with more than just a slight feeling of trepidation. Bellatrix, his most loyal subject, had been retired from active duty for the past three months and had been confined to the walls of Malfoy Manor, and was therefore unable to be present at the meeting. He was desperately tracing the location of two of the couples that could be responsible for the birth of the child mentioned in the prophecy. Severus had done well to warn him of the prophecy, he mused as his Death Eaters pored over maps and scout reports. So far, he had managed to whittle down the potential parents of the child named in the prophecy to three couples- Frank and Alice Longbottom, Lily and James Potter, and... Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman carrying hischild. Bellatrix had refused to let anyone determine the gender of the baby, having got the idea quite firmly in her mind that it should be a 'surprise'. Some twisted surprise, he cursed internally, but he could hardly tell her of the prophecy, and he had not dared to endanger the life of his unborn child by forcing her to follow orders. She had hardly been his first choice for the task, being neither the most attractive or the sanest of his followers, but she was the only one willing to perform this most important of tasks, although when she had been retired from active duty she had hardly been impressed.

One of his men was just about to speak, and then the door burst open with a bang, rattling in its frame. Rodolphus Lestrange stood in the doorway, red-faced and panting. He took a huge gulp of air.

"Lord... the baby. Your child is coming, sir."

Voldemort's heart stopped. "Very well, Lestrange," he said. "I will be there shortly."

He instructed his Death Eaters to continue with the research, determined that the child his servant was bearing would not be- could not be- the child of the prophecy. If it was a boy, he would have it killed. Gathering his robes, he swept from the room, letting the heavy door bang as it shut behind him. His followers, most of whom were present in the Manor, scurried from view as they saw the look on his face. The corridors around the bedroom-turned-nursing-room were entirely deserted. Narcissa paced outside the room, waiting for him. She turned sharply on her heel and stopped as she saw him arrive.

'My Lord,' Narcissa Malfoy greeted him upon his arrival. She was one of the few who were not preparing Bellatrix for birth. 'Your child will be here soon.'

'Yes,' he muttered, distracted. He did not want small talk from the woman certain she was only a part of his cause for fear of disgracing both the Malfoy and Black family names. After a moment of thinking, he continued quietly, more to himself than to the witch. 'She will be the most powerful witch of her generation.'

That may have been one of the closest things to fatherly the Dark Lord would ever say of his only child.

"Lord, you cannot know- even Bella..." Narcissa trailed off, trying to choose her words carefully. "We do not know the gender of the child."

"It will be a girl. I will not have a son," he told her firmly.

Narcissa worried at her lip. Bella would not like that idea, but she knew better than to question the Dark Lord again. She stood outside the heavy wooden door for a moment longer in thought and then pushed it open. Bellatrix's furious screeching poured forth. She was ranting almost incoherently about 'respecting the Dark Lord's seed' and Narcissa rolled her eyes. "My Lord, she will not be quiet. Or sit still. This isn't pain- she simply won't allow the healers near her. She insists it is disrespectful of them to insist she will need help with the birth..." Narcissa trailed off as the Dark Lord looked up from where he stood in the hall, his eyes flashing.

"I will handle Bellatrix. You will ensure the healers do their job. Let me pass."

"Yes, Lord," she affirmed as Voldemort swept past her into the dark room. On the large bed Bella twisted, screeching incoherently about respect. Healers were trying- unsuccessfully- to hold her still and monitor his child, but she would not stay calm. The Dark Lord strode to the end of the bed and then stared at the woman carrying his child.

"Bellatrix!" he commanded. "You will cease your blathering at once and remain calm while my child is born! I will not let you risk it's life."

Bella fell silent as Voldemort spoke. She looked lucid as she returned his icy glare with deference, but Voldemort knew how easily his most loyal subject could fly off the handle about a potential disrespect to her Lord and his property. And right now, the most important possession he had was sitting inside her belly. He supposed she would have every reason to be protective of it- after all, he had told her of the pain he would make her face should she fail him in this task by needlessly endangering the precious burden she carried.

He kept his gaze pinned on her as the healers bustled around the room. He barely spared a glance at the furnishings of the room, having been in there only a week previously to decide where his child would be born. It was furnished in a rich warm green, fitting for the next heir of Slytherin, with green curtains and a dark bedspread the colour of pine needles. The carpet in this room was several shades of green, twisting together like snakes writhing in a mass. The bed was large enough that there would be enough space for the healers to get to her. While none of the rooms in Malfoy Manor could be considered small, this one was particularly spacious, with a space well away from the bed with seats in case the birth became problematic or the Dark Lord needed to sit for any length of time. He insisted he would be present during the birth. Yes, the room was fitting, he thought as he stared down at the half-crazed woman in the bed with the healers fussing over her. Narcissa stood a little to his left, wringing her hands in fear. The birth of her sons had both been problematic and this had undoubtedly brought painful memories to the fore of her mind- as well as the worry that she might lose the only sister she had left.

A healer brushed his side as she scurried to the window to pull open the curtain enough to read the label on one of the more smudged bottles of potion that they had brought. She visibly recoiled in fear and Voldemort wanted to spit in her face and curse her then and there, but he forced himself to think of the potential gain of his child and instead smiled wanly at her. She forced herself to smile shakily back and then shot to the window, breathing heavily. He made a mental note to visit her personally in the dungeons below Malfoy Manor, where the healers were headed after their job was complete. He had led those he had kidnapped from St Mungo's unwillingly to believe they would be returning to their jobs after nothing more than a simple Obliviate. In truth, those who were not on his side were never returning home again. In fact, none of those who were there from St Mungo's could be trusted. The knowledge that this child would be his was to be kept safe until the correct time, when it would be old enough to understand the glory of its heritage.

The birth moved along smoothly. Bellatrix, not one to flinch in the face of pain for her master, endured what he could only imagine as crippling physical agony with almost no sound of complaint. The healers worried around her and Narcissa stood to the side, her features twisted into a mask of half-panic. Voldemort cared little; he wanted his child and he wanted it to be a girl. With every passing moment the tendrils of fear that had crept through his mind after Severus had told him of the prophecy tightened their grip on him. Fear was an unusual emotion, something he had rarely felt if at all, and he found himself tapping his foot impatiently to try and distract himself from the worry. His mind slipped from the moment to consideration of his horcruxes and their safety in the dark room. The noise that brought him back to reality was a sharp wail. The child had taken its first breath and screamed- all the signs of a healthy baby, and yet the healers and especially Narcissa still had worry etched onto their faces as they checked the baby for the gender.

He tensed, waiting anxiously. This was the only flaw in his plan. Narcissa stood over the healer, verifying what they saw. The waiting seemed to him to take years as he looked at the backs of the white robes of the healer and Narcissa's dress. Then she turned, slowly, and he looked blankly at her face, revealing nothing-

"The child is female, my Lord. You have a daughter."

Voldemort smiled indulgently. Perfection. His daughter could not be the child mentioned in the prophecy Severus had brought him, and therefore was the perfect weapon. She would be used well. He stood and took the bundle of cloth that Narcissa handed him with the squirming child inside, and looked down at it coolly. He felt nothing as he held it, not even a small flicker of fondness. After all, the child was essentially useless until it grew and could use magic. He handed the bundle to Bellatrix who began to croon over it.

"Precious, you are going to be just as good a witch as your mother, and you shall love your Lord and father more than I ever could for he is part of you-"

"Bellatrix."

She fell instantly silent and looked up at him. The healers were being led out of the room now to their deaths, and the only three people left in the room were Bellatrix, Narcissa and Voldemort. "Yes, my Lord? Did I perform well?"

"You bore my child, as I asked. Yes, you will gain a reward. But remember, Bellatrix; the child is mine. She will be a Gaunt, not a Lestrange or a Black. Druella Gaunt is to be her name."

"Druella Bellatrix," whined Bellatrix instantly. "Let that be my reward, my Lord, I have served you well, Mother and I always said you were the first wizard to see sense in years..."

"Very well. Druella Bellatrix Gaunt. Narcissa, make a note of her name and the date and time of her birth."

"Yes, Lord," Narcissa replied, scurrying from the room to obey.

The Dark Lord looked at the plan forming in the body of the tiny baby that Bellatrix was cooing over with a sense of dry satisfaction. This decision had played out in his favour, despite his fears that his child would be the child of the prophecy. His daughter would be incredibly useful, especially as he was certain that nobody knew of his relation to the Gaunt line. They would not suspect a thing.

Druella Bellatrix Gaunt would be a very important witch, of that he would make sure. Striding from the room and leaving Bellatrix holding Druella, he turned his mind firmly to the prospect of finding the one who the prophecy referred to, and removing the threat to him and his heir.


Hi everyone! Laura here, back from the depths of university work and paid work to deliver to you a brand new fanfic, with my vastly improved writing. Well, as much as my writing has come forward in quality I can't take all the credit - this fanfic is an alteration of the Harry Potter universe that I am working on with my friend Lissa ( lissdark on twitter) and tbh most of the epic writing's most likely hers because she's much better at writing than I am. Anyway, I hope you like this! We'd prefer it if you read this on AO3 (our username is lissandlaura and it's the only fanfic we have posted) but I suppose here's good too. If you're interested we have a tumblr for this fanfic called druellabellatrixgaunt, so if you'd give that a follow that'd be pretty cool. –Laura

We're planning to rewrite all seven novels. This is hopefully the first of many, many chapters; but both Laura and I are full-time university students based about 100 miles (two hours travel) from one another. We'll update as often as we can, but please be understanding if we slow down during term time. Of course, as the books progress the reading age will probably raise and archive warnings will be needed because things get... understandably dark, at the end of the series. Enjoy!
-Liss x