Chapter One
Babe in the Basement
Narcissa made her way through all the junk and old antiques cluttering her basement with an air of distain. How hard was it to find a simple copper cauldron? "Honestly!" she thought, "Must I do everything myself?" The basements under the Manor house were far more extensive than she remembered, but then again how long had it been since she had been down here? It couldn't have been since before the Battle. No, it had been long before that; at least twenty years. Oh why had the maid chosen to have her baby today!
Narcissa pulled a cobweb out of her long blond hair which now had a few grey streaks running through it. Age does that to a person, age and the stress of having a dark lord frequent your home. And the pain of losing a sister. "Where is that damn pot?"
She was sure that she was far deeper under her house than she had been since, well, ever. Even by the light of her wand she could see hardly anything. Then Mrs. Malfoy noticed something odd, another light besides that of her wand. It was a faint white-blue pulsing light coming from around the bend. Lucius, she had thought, had already gotten rid of all the dark objects. What could make this one activate? She round the curve, stepping over a shattered crystal ball, and was stopped in her tracks.
She had never seen one of these in person. She didn't even know of any that still existed; certainly none in her own home. Narcissa took a breath a walked toward the silver tub. It was a work of art to be sure, and ancient. The ruins carved into the sides were of an exquisite quality, and the glass tubes running all over it were breath taking. Narcissa was not as familiar with ruins as her sister had been, but she recognized the Crono chamber, better known as a time tub, when she saw it. The glass tubes filled with time turner sand were what were making the glow. Ever so slightly she touched the lid, her fingers sliding over the cool inlayed silver. She suddenly pulled back her hand as the cover began to move. It slowly folded over to the side, winding up like a scroll.
Narcissa was no fool. She knew whatever was inside this ancient container could be of no good, yet she had to peer over the edge at its contents. The glow was even stronger inside that out, and all the surrounding area was now lit up by its glow. She looked in, and gasped at what met her eyes. Was it alive, no it couldn't be, and yet….
Even though she was completely alone the woman looked about nervously for anyone who might see. None could know of the contents of the luminescent curse. Then she heard it, a faint whimper. It was not dead, she could not be so lucky, it was only sleeping, but how long had it been here locked in an eternal slumber?
It had been so long since she had held a baby. Her own son was expecting his first any day now, and she had hardly held him when he was young. She lifted it nevertheless, and looked at the mysterious infant. Its eyes were closed even though its sable hair was brushing against them. It, no she, for it was a girl, was quite angelic. The features looked so familiar to the woman, but she couldn't quite put her finger on where she had seen them before. She was certain that she knew that nose, but from where?
The answer became quite clear to her upon reading the note she found folded in the corner of the baby's crypt of a cradle. She nearly dropped it, and it let out another whimper of discontent but did not wake. She was now glad that her husband had gone to take their son to celebrate his wife going into labor. So many babies being born today!
She hurriedly waved her wand over the tube, and it vanished before her eyes. She prayed no one would see her leave the house, but if they did she would claim she had an urgent errand in London that needed to be taken care of personally. She tucked the slumbering babe under her cloak, and made her escape. The child's name was a problem. If she were ever to renter the world of her parents she would need a different sir name. If she had her mother's it would draw suspicion, and her father's terror. Her mother's maiden name would do, and few, if any, knew her father's true name.
Outside the doors of St. Agatha's orphanage the child was laid in a basket, and the door was knocked on. Sister Martha hurried to answer knocking when she heard a loud crack just as she put her hand on the knob. When she looked outside on her doorstep there was a lovely child, abandoned, and nothing else but darkness. There was no sign of whoever left it, or of what made that peculiar noise. "Well, come inside dear." They young nun picked up the basket and brought it into the warmth of the convent.
"Now what is your name?" Sister Martha looked at the slumbering angel and picked up the note pinned to her dress. "Let's see, 'Viola Riddle Black'. Well that's an interesting name." She gazed down at the baby who was beginning to stir. "Well, it is the one gift you were given by them. Viola it is." She then gathered up the little girl in her arms. As the sister walked to the Mother Superior's office, she wondered how this little one would grow up, and Martha had a strange feeling that this child was meant for something special just as she opened her small gray eyes.