A/N: Hello, people of the world! This is my OC for the story Batmarcus and I are co-writing (Tales of the Lestrange) though it's not incredibly necessary for you to read that to understand this. Raven Riddle is the son of Bellatrix and Voldemort – and Roderick is his brother.
Confused? Yes? Well, read on, dear reader. Oh, I don't own Harry Potter. I do own this OC though, and Batmarcus (darling child) owns the idea of him.
Onwards!
Like Ice.
The boy stared out the window. The flashing scenery did nothing to ease his stomach. He was nervous – he would be meeting his father for the first time.
He'd heard all about his father, from Wormtail, the man now sitting opposite him. He disgusted Raven. His fingernails badly needed some attention; they reminded him of a rat's nails. As did the man in general. The way he wheezed when he talked, the way he didn't walk but scurry – it was revolting.
Not that it surprised him, the man, after all, was a rat.
Fifteen years he had lived with a demented man. Some believed this man to be dead. How wrong they were, Raven thought with a smirk. The man didn't know his own name, yet the Dark Lord had entrusted his son to him.
He's your father, Raven, not the Dark Lord. Acknowledge him as such.
What piqued his ever growing curiosity, though, was his mother. According to Mr Braendan, she was nutters.
He took a deep breath – wondering how long the train ride would take. Hopefully not long. He didn't understand why he couldn't just apparated!
Then again, it would alert the Ministry of Magic of him. A big no-no for him. He wasn't sent to live with the madman he came to know as his adoptive father for nothing. Kern Braendan. The man was dark, twisted and entirely bonkers. Which was why he served the purpose.
"Raven, don't you like it?"
"I don't see how this could be… fun."
"Just try it!"
"I'd rather not."
"Please, Ray."
He succumbed. He never could resist her when she said Ray. He allowed himself to be prodded onto the swing, and she pushed him.
They were thirteen.
A moment later Alicia was on the ground. Her body was thrashing, blood pouring from every orifice. Some spurting, making the mud a deep brown.
Raven had known immediately – it was Kern. Kern had killed her. Raven had watched the last ounces of life leave her body. His eyes were fixated on her. No open wound, yet her eyes were shrivelled in her skull. Her mouth was wide open, but her tongue was small, without moisture and colourless.
"Why did you do it?" Raven had yelled at him.
"She's a muggle, Riddle, you are above her!"
Raven hadn't known what had made him do it, but he attacked Kern. Grabbing a discarded beer bottle he plunged it into the man's throat. Blood spurted into his face, but he didn't care. He didn't want Kern to die, just to make him feel the pain.
The glass shattered. Raven waved his wand quickly, the wound in Kern's neck healed.
"How did you know that spell?" Kern demanded, rubbing his slightly pink neck.
"My real father is a genius – I see myself as a borderline genius."
"Your father left you!"
"My father was forced to! Don't you think I'd have tried to find him, were it not for your incessant butting in?"
"I am your father!"
"Lord Voldemort is my father – you are a pawn!"
The words had stung Kern, but Raven didn't care. Kern had killed his best friend – and he would pay. He would pay dearly when his father returned.
Raven simpered at the memory. Since then, his sanity was of questionable quantity. And quality as a matter of fact.
His hand played over a shard of broken glass he held in his hand. It was from that day. The dried blood on the edges was Kern's. He'd kept it with him – his favourite belonging. Gifted to him by his adoptive father… even if not directly.
That same morning Raven had been doing the usual training. He'd vowed to follow in his father's footsteps. He fully understood too. Muggles were lesser beings, only rivalled by mudbloods and bloodtraitors.
He knew the name of every bloodtraitor out there. It was his personal mission to find them all – and end them all.
I'll start with my brother, he thought. Roderick Lestrange.
Or his half-brother. They had the same mother.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
The name gave him chills – and she was his mother! But these chills weren't… uncomfortable, they were of expectation. He expected her to be demented, to be as bonkers as he himself was.
He'd found out about Roderick when he was eleven. He'd been sneaking in Kern's office when he came across a letter. A letter from Azkaban – from his mother. He'd hungrily opened the letter, wanting a bit of closeness.
Dear Kern,
It is the first time I've written, but I feel like I must. This is not light-hearted at all. News has reached me of your words to Raven – be ensured you will be punished. Either by me, my master or our son.
And I am not referring to the son that my sister, Andromeda, is raising. He's a bloodtraitor – and will be seen to as such.
Bellatrix Lestrange
She had an incredibly neat handwriting – he didn't expect it. Their styles nearly matched, the difference was she curled her g's, whilst he made their tails long, and her capital letters were in cursive writing.
He'd stolen the letter. Put it in his pocket and left the study.
That had been five years ago.
Now he was on his way to meet his resurrected father, and soon he would meet his mother.
That morning had been one full of surprises. He'd risen from bed, finding a dead cat on his bed. When he asked Kern about it, he was told he killed it in a fit of rage, after which he carried it to his room and used it as a plush toy.
He wasn't that bad, was he?
He didn't particularly care if he was either. He enjoyed his rages…
Next the rat-like man appeared, announcing he was to take Raven to Malfoy Manor to meet his father.
"I'm his father! Me! I brought him up, fed him, clothed him! I am the one that puts up with his rages! I'm the one…"
Whatever Kern had done for raven would never be known. The elder man toppled over, a look of shock etched into his lined face.
"Shall we?" He'd asked the rat-like man. The latter nodded and scurried away, gone to get Raven's possessions. They had to get out of there before someone discovered the body.
. . .
Hours later the train lurched to a stop. Raven stood up, not having slept, like his companion had. He supressed a shudder as he touched the man's shoulder. He focused his thoughts to his hand, and watched ice spread up the man's arm. Wormtail snapped awake, alarmed by the cold.
"We're here." Raven said coldly.
"Of course, master." Wormtail wheezed, scampering to get his luggage.
Raven stared at his hand. The powers never ceased to amaze him. Ever since the episode with Alicia (who was the only muggle he'd never curse), he had silently gone insane. A block of ice from around his heart, unlocking something new in him.
He had the ability to manipulate water. In all its forms. Ice, fluid, steam… even the blood vessels that contained water in one's body. He'd tried this on Kern more than once.
It was rather entertaining.
He followed the rat from the platform to a secluded area, where he had to supress another shudder as the dirty nails made its way around his wrists. He was pulled into a tight vortex, the lack of oxygen nearly suffocating him.
Then it was over. He wrenched his arm from the other man's and strode to the great Manor he assumed was where his father was currently staying.
The gates opened for him. He ignored the man that struggled behind him, only keeping the shard of glass and his wand on his person.
The doors opened nearly dramatically. There waited one Lucius Malfoy and his brother-in-law, Rodolphus Lestrange. Raven sneered at the both of them, feeling nothing but contempt.
"Master." Lucius bowed to him.
"Malfoy." He shot back. Rodolphus bowed too, but raven didn't pay any attention to him at all. He strode past him deliberately to the woman with black and white hair.
"Aunt Narcissa." He greeted her, holding out a hand. He held out a hand. She was quite pretty for someone her age. He only acknowledged her because she was his mother's sister.
She eyed his hand, then decided to refuse it and curtsied.
"Master." She murmured.
"I am not your master – I am Raven to you." He felt some sort of compassion for her.
"All right then… Raven." She whispered; her breath shaky. "He's in there."
Raven made his way to which Narcissa had pointed him in.
The bald man turned around at the rustle behind him. Had he any heart, it would've beaten faster like Raven's was.
"Ah – my son." The Dark Lord sighed. He opened his arms widely, inviting Raven to a hug.
Raven wondered if he understood correctly. Was the Dark Lord really inviting someone to a hug?
He stepped closer uncertainly. Voldemort embraced him briefly, before letting go. He started to walk down a hallway, inviting Raven to join him.
"Welcome back." Raven said, keeping up with his father.
"It's better." Voldemort commented softly. "The same to you, Raven."
"What is expected of me?"
"Oh, you shall learn. Over time."