Lord Voldemort walked out of his office in Marsham House, where he had been writing a lengthy reply to Corban Yaxley about Mudblood registration and about sporadic commemorations of Albus Dumbledore's death. He was tired of working today. He shut the office door and heard peals of laughter from the Conservatory, so he started toward there.

Inside the glass-lined room, he found Bellatrix sitting on the ground, her black skirts hiked up to her knees. Before her was Morganna, just nine months of age, and she was…

She was walking.

'Master, look!' Bellatrix exclaimed. 'She's walking! Look at her, Master!'

Morganna toddled a few steps to Bellatrix, then fell hard to the side and began to wail in protest. Bellatrix quickly scooped her up into her arms and cooed,

'Oh, it's all right, Morganna! You were walking, big girl, weren't you? You fell down! It's all right!'

Voldemort smiled a bit and walked into the Conservatory. He crouched down next to Bellatrix, only a little way away, and he extended his arms.

'Walk to me, creature!' he told Morganna. 'Walk to me!'

'M00 Doo! Moo Doo!' babbled Morganna nonsensically, jabbing a finger almost angrily at Voldemort. But she stood up away from Bellatrix, wobbled on her legs, and then took a shaking step toward Voldemort.

'Nine months,' Bellatrix said in awe, and Voldemort grinned like a madman as Morganna waddled toward him. As she approached him, she fell into his arms, and he swept her into an embrace and kissed her silver hair.

'Good girl,' he said softly to her. 'Good work, creature.'

"Morganna." Lord Voldemort sat in a chair beside his silver-haired creature's bed, and he held her hand in his as he stared at her. She seemed like she was sleeping, though with Draught of Living Death, it really was more like she was dead. Her tiny face was peaceful, serene, and Voldemort studied her, hoping she wasn't in pain as the spells and potions intended to put her leg bones back to rights did their work. He couldn't fathom the medical magic taking place inside her thighs and calves and knees right now. Splinters and fragments of bone were trying to find one another, trying to reunite, to form again. But it was as the Healer had said. The bones would never be exactly the same. His little creature would never be exactly the same.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort turned from where he sat to see Lucius Malfoy in the open doorway of the nursery. He blinked a few times, tired; he'd been here for going on twelve hours now. Lucius sighed and nodded.

"Thank you for letting me get some respite, Master."

"I told you that she's ours," Voldemort snarled quietly, and Lucius just nodded again. Voldemort tipped his head. 'What do you need, Lucius?"

"Master, Minister Yaxley has come to meet with you. He says it is exceedingly important."

Voldemort eyed Morganna and reluctantly released her hand. He stood from his chair and approached Lucius.

"Send for the Dark Lady at Marsham House. I made her go get some sleep. She'll want to be here if I have to leave."

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius agreed. He hesitated. "May I have Narcissa sit with her, as well?"

"If the Dark Lady agrees, then, of course," nodded Voldemort. He glanced back at Morganna and suddenly remembered again that feeling of wrapping her up into his arms when she'd taken her first steps. His eyes burned like mad, and he whispered to Lucius, "She'll walk again."


"Master." Yaxley bowed low outside of Voldemort's office. As Voldemort opened the office door and beckoned for his Minister to follow him inside, Yaxley asked cautiously, "How is Miss Malfoy doing, Sir?"

"The Lady Morganna," Voldemort corrected. "I want it decreed. She is to be referred to as The Lady Morganna. She is the ward of The Dark Lady and myself; she is not just Miss Malfoy."

"My sincerest apologies, Master, and I shall issue the decree at once," Yaxley said, stammering a little. He sat when Voldemort willed him to do it, and then Voldemort sank into his chair and said,

"You pulled me away from her. This had better be good."

"Well, it isn't… erm… good, per se." Yaxley pinched his lips. "This morning, Master, three rebels appeared in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. They spoke your name in unison, thus breaking the Taboo deliberately. They… they shouted the name. They willingly went into custody, and as they did, they were screaming things like… Down with… well, you know."

"Down with Lord Voldemort," he whispered, and Yaxley nodded nervously. Voldemort licked his lip and asked, "Who were they?"

"Scraps of the Order of the Phoenix. They've been in hiding for years. Fugitive Mudbloods. Viviana Applegate, Holly Rightfold, and Theatrix Boatwright."

"Women, all three of them," Voldemort noted. He smirked and quoted, "And the fiercest of the rebels shall be the witches."

"Who said that, Master?" Yaxley asked, and Voldemort put up an eyebrow.

"I did. Three years ago. So these Mudblood rebels broke the Taboo on purpose. Are they dead?"

"They are awaiting execution, My Lord," Yaxley said. "I wasn't sure how public you wanted to make it. This is the first instance of the Taboo being broken on purpose, and it seems they need an example made of them."

"Quite so. Go back to the Ministry and gather every employee who will fit into the Atrium. Bring the Mudblood rebels there under guard. I'll meet you there in an hour and do it myself," Voldemort said. Yaxley looked surprised, but he nodded fervently and said,

"Yes, Master. We shall see you then."


Bellatrix was calm and collected as she and Lord Voldemort Apparated into the Ministry Atrium and strode forward. Voldemort thought she looked marvelously beautiful, clad in skintight black leather with raven feathers at her shoulders. She had black lipstick on; she had lined her eyes with thick kohl. She had come looking like an angel of death.

"You certain you don't want to do it?" Voldemort teased her as the crowd parted and bowed. Bellatrix smirked, eyes forward, and reminded him,

"It must be you, Master."

"This will not help with Mexico," he lamented, and Bellatrix huffed beside him.

"Hell take Mexico."

Voldemort curled up half his mouth at his dangerous, beautiful bride, remembering how she'd nervously dropped his wedding ring on the day he'd first married her. She'd been sixteen and terrified of him. She wasn't terrified of anything now. Well. Perhaps she was terrified of what had happened to Morganna. Perhaps she was terrified of that, but she wasn't showing it right this moment.

"Traitors!" Bellowed Lord Voldemort into the space of the Atrium. Before him, up on a platform, three witches had been bound with Conjured ropes to shiny metal posts. One of them squirmed and tried to scream, but they'd obviously been Silenced. Voldemort put his finger to his lip and shook his head.

"Hush, Miss Rightfold. Mudbloods should be seen and not heard. Well. They shouldn't be seen, either."

A rumble of laughter went round the crowd of gathered Ministry employees, most of whom seemed relatively anxious. Bellatrix called out in a steady, sure voice,

"Today we witness the power of the Dark Lord! A Taboo was placed upon the name which must not be spoken by unworthy mouths! The name which unworthy tongues must not deign to pronounce! And yet these Mudblood rebels thought themselves brave by breaking the law of our nation, by doing that which they could never be worthy of doing! Speak his name and die!"

She shouted that last bit, viciously, and then she repeated it, in such a terrifying snarl that people recoiled in fear.

"Speak his name and die!"

Lord Voldemort pulled out his wand and aimed it at the platform. There was no reason to drag this out any further. He'd make more of a statement by killing them cleanly, quickly, efficiently.

"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

Someone screamed as triple flashes of green light illuminated the space of the Atrium. Gasps of horror and shock rippled through the room, and the witches who had broken the Taboo slumped on their metal posts in death. Someone decided then that it was a good idea to clap, and applause broke out, growing more enthusiastic by the moment as people seemed to collectively determine that roars of approval were the right reaction to what they'd just witnessed.

"Speak his name and die!" called out a voice from the crowd, and then a few others repeated the phrase. Someone else cried out,

"Long live the Dark Lord!"

"Praise the Dark Lord!"

"We're done here," Voldemort said to Bellatrix, seizing her hand and Disapparating from where he stood. When they came to in the foyer of Marsham House, she panted a little, looking energised and eager. But when she put her hands on his chest, still looking beautifully terrifying in leather and feathers and black lipstick, she murmured,

"You're right, Master. This will not help with Mexico."

Author's Note: I am so incredibly grateful that people are still reading this series three parts in. Thank you so very much for reading this story. Please do leave a review if you get a quick moment; I'd love to know what your thoughts are.