"That makes calamity of so long life."

1979-1980

"She's pregnant."

"You're sure?"

His wife glanced over her shoulder ever so slightly, giving him that soft smile he loved to see on her. "My darling." She turned back to the mirror, holding the earring up to the light. "I haven't worn these in so long," she said amused. "I've forgotten how exquisite they are."

Charlus rose from the bed and walked over to his wife. He smiled at her through the mirror, and then gently leaned down to kiss her slowly on her neck. "I don't believe I've seen them before."

Dorea chuckled softly, gently threading her hands through her husband's. "It was a wedding gift from my mother." She leaned her head with a sigh against his chest. "What a horrid woman."

"Mhm."

"I was thinking of giving them to James. It'd be a nice present for the girl, don't you think? He dotes on her so. Our son wouldn't want to keep them, the silly thing."

"They'd look beautiful on her," he mused, trying to hide his flinch. At least she hadn't named him this time. "And for the Yuletide Ball – a celebration gift?"

"What a lovely thought." Tilting her head, she considered the earring. "You know, for all that my mother drolled on about family harmony, you would have thought she'd have done a better job raising us," Dorea commented, smiling. "Still. Did I ever show you the other present she gave me?"

"My dear?"

With a gentle touch, she lifted the spherical instrument out of the metal cased box on her vanity table. The box closed with a sharp clank.

"What an odd piece," Charlus remarked, as he knelt by his wife's side to better see it. "How ever does it work?"

With a slight wave of her wand, the piece began to stir once more.

"I was never any good at Astronomy, darling," he finally replied softly, staring at the slow whirr of the spinning planes with their shining orbs.

Dorea laughed drily. "The sport they teach at Hogwarts would only help ever so slightly with this single instrument, Charlus. You forget my family's... peculiar naming habits." Her wand lifted by an edge, and the whizzing pieces died until only one remained, spinning left and right, but always returning to the same place. "My dear niece... she's spent quite a while here. And it has only risen this year."

"Bellatrix Black," he murmured softly. "I see what you mean, my dear. Quite a problem."

"Lestrange now, remember." Her fingers grazed his hand. "Didn't they have a manor out in the countryside somewhere? Yet I can't seem to remember the name, for the life of me."

Sirius was swept into the house without a word. There was no time for niceties: Dumbledore's forces were on the streets everywhere, and one never knew who was watching. This was the fifth house that month they'd had to move their main headquarters to. Inside, the chaos of the war was showing through the cracks. Wizards and witches and all manner of creatures flew throughout the house, readying and preparing and arming themselves for a war that relentlessly pounded the Wizarding World with the force of a thousand dying suns.

"The Dark Lord is waiting in his chambers," the muggle who had ushered him in murmured, scurrying off before Sirius could ask where those chambers might be. Sirius didn't bother to hurry after him. The magic was familiar to him now – that beautiful call, as the power of the Dark Lord's very presence nearly sang through the very walls.

Lord Voldemort didn't even look up as he entered, but the order came swiftly. "Sit." Sirius didn't question Him.

The mist twirled softly up. Out of the smoke came a voice so faint, he could barely hear it. It echoed across the marble basin where the vial had been poured, the words mixing in the mocking melody.

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..."

As the whisper died, so too did the mist slowly disappeared across the gloomy room.

"They don't know yet that I have heard it all." He was staring into the depths of the marble, lost in his own musings. As he raised his eyes, Sirius could feel his magic graze his very soul. Sirius shivered reflexively. He had faith in his mind shields... but only so much faith as the Dark Lord allowed.

"Is the prophecy old, my lord?"

"A week or so." He tilted his head slightly, unblinking. "Will you be ready, Sirius Black?"

"I will if you command."

"Oh no." Lord Voldemort said. "Prophecies are such funny things. We must always be ready to be ungoverned, to answer to Fate herself. Does that displease you?"

"I didn't know Fate cared if it pleased or displeased me," he replied drily. "The thread has already been cut."

"Very good," the Dark Lord chuckled. From the windows, the moonlight peaked between the heavy curtains. The Order still hadn't found them here yet, but they'd raided so many others – the older houses, mostly, that were known to too many to be hidden so easily. And they'd found them in turn – Sirius had found quite a few... But they were losing. Badly.

"It'll be done within the year." With one wave of his hand, the misty liquid returned to its fragile vial. "The die has already been cast. You will be prepared."

"But – my lord – who?"

His face was still and as darkly beautiful as the marble around them. "A child. Yet to be born. But one the Light hopes to conceive – to their folly."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "They seek to foretell a prophecy?"

"Fools." Lord Voldemort's whisper slid across the room, the venom curling with every syllable. "They have never learned. Fate cannot be foretold... prophecies are such funny things – rather simple, if one only follows what they are told."

The door opened behind him. "Go back home, Sirius." Lord Voldemort's whispering voice cut across the cold stone. "I would speak with Severus alone."

Sirius glanced at his fellow Slytherin. His face had gone pale as he knelt under the Dark Lord's unwavering gaze – but he didn't try to run. The second he had told the prophecy to the Dark Lord... Severus had known his Master would figure it out. He'd known, just as he had known he could never hide anything from Him, and still he'd come.

As Sirius swept out of the room with a bow, the questions burned into his mind. But there was no time to ask them all – there never was.

In and out, and in and out – Lily counted each stich dutifully, the gentle touch of the moonlight marking her way.

"How pretty, my dear. May I?" Charlus leaned over her shoulder, peering at the girl's embroidery. "How utterly delightful these are."

"Thank you, Uncle," Lily said with a smile. Her posture was so perfect one could have balanced a full tea set on her head and it wouldn't have even made a ripple in the water. In her lap, Lily held the pillow she was working on as gently as if it were a babe. "I thought the flowers were so pretty."

"Mhm." The ringing bell of the door interrupted their brief interlude much too slow for Charlus' tastes. "My dear, would you excuse me?"

"Of course, Uncle."

His smile thinned. "I meant for you to go upstairs. I'm expecting a very important visitor."

"Of course, Uncle." She rose from the chair as if floating on clouds – the slowest cloud variety, of course. Charlus clenched his jaw. When he'd – well, it didn't matter so much, anyways. His smile returned as he remembered the pillow. She'd taken so quickly to it when he told her to make herself useful... of course, that was a relative term. She seemed delighted as such tasks, however, and had taken to making gifts for the few people he allowed her to see. It kept her preoccupied, even if she had insisted she needed to pick flowers from the woods to line the insides.

He picked up one of her earlier attempts from the couch, the glee rising inside of him. It brought him so much pleasure looking at her designs. Each was the same as the last. Once set to a task, she wouldn't stop.

What a perfect girl, he mused. Utterly perfect.

"Lord Potter."

"We've caught ourselves a doe," he replied, placing the pillow back on the couch with a smile. Charlus glanced over his shoulder at the young man. "Are they ready?"

"We've been preparing all day, sir, but – but sir, we haven't reached Albus Dumbledore yet."

"Leave him." His robes swept the air around him as Charlus Potter headed for the door.

"But – but sir –"

The young man nearly stumbled as Charlus turned around angrily, grabbing his shoulder. "I said, leave. it." The anger faded as quickly as it came, and Charlus loosened his grip into a slight shake. "We cannot wait for Albus. We'll only have this one chance while they're preoccupied. Do not lose it."

He's like a puppy, Charlus growled to himself, the boy quick at his heels as he swept out of the house. There was a reason he'd never gotten a dog. "Remind them what they are to do if they find it. That child will be a threat to us all."

"Yes, sir. The strike team is aware."

They had reached the edge of the wards. In a bolt, their forms shifted into the darkness, barreling towards a peaceful manor in Essex.

"My lord – one nurse is not enough, you need to call for –"

"- And one nurse is better than no nurse, Healer Jeffries. Now get back in there, and help my niece deliver her child." Orion's voice boomed as loud as the thunder outside. "Healers," he muttered to himself, his head in his hand.

"Hello, uncle," Narcissa greeted wryly. "Bit of a long night, isn't it?" Under the side of her arm, she carried a basket filled with clothes. "Will Mum and Father be here soon? And Rudolphus?"

Orion bit his lip, frowning. "They weren't expecting the babe to come for another two weeks. I sent word, but I'm not sure if it made it – especially now with what's going on." That they were losing – losing badly – went unsaid. Most had gone in to hiding; it was a miracle Orion had been able to come at all.

He crossed over to the window. "How strange," he murmured. "Narcissa, did you send for another healer?"

"Uncle?"

They only appeared for a second before they cloaked themselves. Seven of them – seven tall, dark figures, hiding in the shadows of the forest. A mile out. The defenses would slow them – that's why they'd chosen this place over Grimmuald. Perhaps an hour.

"They've found us," he replied. He turned around sharply. "Get inside, seal the door. When the baby is born – Narcissa." Orion grasped her by the shoulder. "Go down the passage. Don't wait. Don't stop for anyone. And do not bring the healer."

Narcissa nodded, and, not waiting for further instructions, went to the door of the chamber. Slowly she started the chants that would seal the room from sight.

With a wave of his hand, the fire burst into life. "12 Grimmuald," he barked, and the face came into view in a second. "Regulus, get anyone you can. They've found us."

"It's them," a voice announced from the shadows. They'd just emerged from the cover of the forest, slowly disappearing one by one from sight. "They just fire-called out. Definitely Orion Black's magical signature."

"Isn't he even going to try and stop us?" One of the voice complained. "Even that old man could put up a fight." The muddy grass ruffled as he moved in front of the group. "Ok, fine, we just have to walk up, it's not that hard, and –"

The growl came out of nowhere, a dark blur that danced in the shadows far too fast for the human eye to see. There was only a slight gasp, followed by a quick thump as the fading body hit the ground.

"Quick! Around me," Charlus commanded. The group tightened, but their needed invisibility still put them at a disadvantage.

"Black dogs," he heard one of the younger members mutter. "My mum told me about them."

"No one cares what ya mum told you, so shut it," another growled. "Quick – here they come." But the growling that'd been so loud a moment ago had faded. "Are they –"

The hounds came roaring through the field, tearing through the air like a blade through paper. But as they got closer, their true monstrous features showed. Where their eyes should have been, there was only rippling, matted fur, torn and shredded, painted with blood. Their feet were made of massive claws, unlike any seen on a normal dog. Their fur was at once matted and leather, stretched taut over bulging muscles and skeletal ribs. From the leader's jaws dripped glistening blood.

The hounds were white, their ears a gleaming red.

"Leave him!" Charlus barked, grabbing whomever he could find and dragging them away from the cold corpse.

"But –"

"They're here for death, ya bloody idiot," the other man muttered. "We can't do nothin' for him now. If we take him with us they'll only come for us as well."

The group huddled together, all the more cautious as they moved forward onto the distant house.

"One's down," Sirius observed from the gate of the manor. "Hounds?"

"Cŵn Annwn," Regulus replied. "You can breed them in the hills. Not many left, though. And we should have put in something to apparate in." Rudolphus was still busy opening the gate.

"And if we can, they can. Calm down. The gate'll be open in a minute and then we're only just a minute or so from the house."

"How many do you think the defenses will be able to get rid of?"

"Maybe two more? It depends who they have on the team. They didn't bring Dumbledore, though, so hopefully they'll get rid of a few more."

"Did Rudolphus say what was after the Cŵn Annwn?"

"Devil's Snare. And Venomous Tentacula's on the side of the manor they're approaching. Red Caps on the grounds. Hinkypunks near the bog on the far side... where they're going now to escape the hounds. They should run into the nesting occamys after. A pogrebin is trailing, and then they'll run into the troll," Sirius recited."

"We're through," Rudolphus announced. "Let's go."

"We're not going to make it," one of the men muttered. "Let's just go back now."

"Would you shut it? We're already halfway there. What's gotten into you, anyways –"

"Troll!" One of the other members of the team warned, ducking out of the way as the club swung out of the darkness. "Incendio!" The fire forced the troll back, its' small head swinging back and forth in confusion as the fire came to life around it. "Force it into the bog, that'll stop it."

A blue light flashed through the darkness, felling one of the trees between the men and the troll and forcing it further back. The quick bursts of curses and spells slowly started to reveal the bog they'd left only minutes before as the troll started to flee. But as it reached the edge, it let loose a loud wail – yet too late as it started to sink.

"Nice work," another replied. "Someone want to get rid of the pogrebin tailing us? It's starting to get the kid upset."

Orion was observing the battlefield when the brothers finally reached him. "Will the tower be the safest place for her?" Sirius asked Rudolphus. "Should we move her?"

"It has the best way out," Rudolphus replied, not turning around. "How many so far?"

"One killed by the Cŵn Annwn, another lost in the bog. The Tentacula's got ahold of another now... and there he goes. Four left." Orion let the curtain fall from his hand as the Order members started to go for the door of the manor.

"Four of their best," Rudolphus remarked.

"We need to get out," Bella groaned. "Have they come yet?"

"I don't know," her sister replied, as she hastily dragged out some of the cleaner sheets to bundle the bloody child in. "The door's sealed, they can't get in until they force it or we open it. Can you walk?"

"I don't have a choice, do I. Come on, we need to get the – Cissa, what's she doing?" Bella sounded feverish in the aftermath of the birth. "Cissa, the healer. What's she doing?"

Healer Jeffries had started to move towards the hidden door out, her hands examining the cold stones. "Mrs. Lestrange, you should be taking care of your child," she murmured, her wand twisting in her hand.

Narcissa moved slowly towards her sister, the sheets clutched in her hand. "Bella, go."

"The –"

"I'll take care of her," she promised angrily. "They'll be inside the house soon. You need to leave now. On my mark?"

Bellatrix nodded, clutching the child in her arms tightly. "I remember."

"Go!"

As Bella flied from the room, her younger sister's spell sent the room spinning into darkness. One flag, two – the small door opened as the stones clicked together, closing behind her with a thump as she crawled into the hidden passageway.

"Incendio," she murmured, as she picked herself up, head still spinning from the blood loss. Come on. Her body, still so weak, was betraying her even now, but she stumbled determinedly down the path. The babe was nestled to her chest, sleeping softly. She didn't remember if it was a boy or a girl – but there'd be time for that later.

"Crucio!" Around Sirius, lightning flew, knocking one of the Order off of their feet. His curse hit his target straight in the chest, a perfect blow. The man was forced to his feet, wailing an ungodly sound as his limbs flailed in pain.

But he had to release it all too soon, as he saw his own brother barely dodge a curse, unaware of –

Sirius tossed the shield in front of Regulus just in time, blocking a particularly painful-looking red light that shattered the shield at once. Regulus nodded his thanks, sending loose his own blue bolt of magic that went spinning towards the fighter.

"The wards are down!" One of the Order members yelled. "Find her."

In the haze of smoke from the battle, none of them saw the door open.

"What are you doing?" Narcissa demanded. "You're here to protect my sister."

"I'm here to protect life," the healer replied haughtily, as her fingers continued to run over the stones, unperturbed by the darkness. "I did my duty, the baby has been delivered."

"And what of the mother? Do you intend for her to die?"

"As long as she doesn't die in the childbed, it really isn't my concern. Ah."

The darkness slowly began to lift as the spell faded away. Narcissa raised her wand to the healer, intending her strike to be deadly.

"So kill me," the healer murmured, as if reading her thoughts. "But if you miss..."

Narcissa swallowed. If she missed – so easy at this close range – she'd open the door herself. But if she didn't... "Can't we talk about this?" Narcissa pleaded slightly, trying to stall for time. Jeffries hadn't opened the door yet, there was still time. She was twisting something in her hand, Narcissa noticed – a medallion?

"Of course. We can talk about your sister, or the war, or the greater good," the healer replied mockingly. "What would you prefer? They just want her child out, you know. I don't even think they really want her. And Bellatrix Black as a mother? It's for the best, really. She can go on killing innocents to her heart's content, and she won't need to worry about the child."

She tried to hold her anger in check – but it would have been so easy to –

"Ah. Here we go." The healer finally looked back at her. "I believe you can apparate out now, if you wish –"

Narcissa let loose her deadly curse, but it was too late. The door opened as Healer Jeffries slumped to the ground, Narcissa following only seconds later as the red lights went flying through the open doorway.

"Go!" Sirius yelled to Rudolphus, fending off one of the Order. "They're getting through!" But the Order member had fled already, fast through the open doorway, before Rudolphus could stop him. He went for the door – and then another followed.

Sirius swallowed, turning back to the battle at hand. Two left. Rudolphus had better be able to handle them.

The lightning swirled around him once more, his father locked in deadly battle with Charlus Potter. On the other side of the room danced his younger brother, trading death blows with one of the masked attackers. Sirius weaved in and out as best he could, blocking some of the worst curses from Potter and sending freezing pain towards the other.

But not enough.

Each side was waning – his father, strained from the effort of holding the wards so long, his brother, matched in a losing struggle against the unknown wizard. One by one, the blows rained down, cracking their magic, the cuts getting deeper and bloodier.

Sirius danced in between them, trying the stem the growing disasters – his curses brighter, his strength unwaned – he could feel the energy bubbling inside of him, ready to erupt – but as he turned to his brother's attacker, forcing him back, Charlus Potter struck.

As the bolt raced towards his father, time seemed to slow, the future unhidden. Without his magic, his father's shield would crack and – but Regulus. The wizard had risen, ready to cast the deadly blow.

Orion made the choice for him, knocking him out of the way and draining even more magic from shield in the process. Sirius staggered, but kept control.

As he cast the spell that would save his brother, his eyes never left his father's. The bolt seemed to linger cruelly, shattering the shield and striking him straight in the chest, exploding into light, sending Orion Black flying into the air, his back arched unnaturally, his figure already stilling.

Sirius lifted his wand, ready to kill –

Charlus Potter smiled, twisting into the darkness, and the green bolt reached only shadows.

Bellatrix could hear the broken footsteps, the sound echoing down the stone passage, as she raced down the steps. The door had been opened, and above, the faint sounds of spells flying could be heard.

She hated being so weak – but it didn't matter, she reminded herself, looking down at the baby. It was worth it. Her steps had slowed, but still she carried on determined to reach the safety of the water below.

The footsteps were coming closer now, but she still had time – she still had to have time. Flee or fight – but with the child, it wasn't a choice she was going make.

The silent light hit her in the back, a gentle air catching them as mother and child fell.

Charlus Potter brushed the mud off of his arm, grimacing as he realized a bath would be necessary. "Report," he demanded as the boy appeared at his door.

"Longbottom said he took care of the kid," Fabian Prewett replied. "Lestrange got away – tried to get down to them before I could stop him. Sir, have you seen my brother?"

"And where is Longbottom now?" Charlus replied angrily. "The – what are you doing here?" He rounded on the young woman who'd passed by suddenly at the doorway to the library.

"My lord," Andromeda replied carefully, coming back to the door. "Your wife asked to see me – I was just leaving." She nodded at Fabian in greeting, her gaze respectfully lowered as she turned back to Charlus.

"Leave us," Charlus instructed, waving away Fabian. "And how was your visit? Productive, I hope, for your dear aunt?"

Andromeda raised her eyes, her face a bland smile. "I hope so, my lord – Uncle. She asked me to sit with Lily for a bit, to talk to her. It was so nice to see her, after so many years from Hogwarts."

"Ah." Charlus pressed his lips together thoughtfully. A risk, to be sure, but... "Perhaps you will come again then. I know my dear niece gets lonely in this house, but it's become too unsafe for her to leave."

"It would be my pleasure," Andromeda replied gracefully. "Good night." She turned only slightly, praying that he wouldn't see the talisman hidden in the palm of her left hand as she left.

The waning moon, her finger traced. She'd done the calculations – or tried to, at least. There must have been seven women on her mother's side, each with a daughter. Not the normal way of the seventh child. These things were so touchy, but... still. Apparently it had been enough.

But they didn't seem to want her that much, even though they'd bound her magic, and taken her wand for good measure. They hadn't really tried to brainwash her either – well, beyond Charlus feeding her compulsion potions. She snorted. Maybe James should have paid more attention to her classwork then to her looks – there was a reason she'd been invited to join Slughorn's Slug Club and he hadn't. Was she just supposed to fall in love with James after being kidnapped? Seriously, that's the plan?

"Lily?" She nearly jumped, but it was James' voice, not his dreadful uncle's. The family resemblance was too close. She shut the book softly, relaxing into the sofa. Looking natural.

"Lily," James said with a smile. "What are you up to?"

"Just looking at the books you had here," Lily said, back in her blank voice. "The pictures looked interesting."

"Mhm. You look so pretty there – maybe –"

She let loose a large yawn, and smiled delicately. "I'm going to go to bed," she announced. "I'm so tired."

James frowned just a bit. "But –"

She wondered about the thought she'd had earlier. The compulsions hadn't worked well – but maybe they hadn't worked at all. Maybe.

Lily twisted her hand slightly, drawing on the old theories she'd learned only in class.

James crumpled instantly, snoring softly.

Well.

Well.

She wasn't as strong... but it hadn't worked as well as they wanted. Lily smiled. Perhaps Charlus should have read the book more closely. She snorted. Rituals had to be fine tuned for the person – that was basic stuff, really.

Turning the book open once more, she started the chapter up once more.

The muggle-born have an innate strength that when awoken, is equal to those born of wizarding blood. So much for Flitwick's many excuses. But whether of muggle or of wizarding blood, the children born in sevens were considered by many of the old ways to be able to draw upon greater strength than any other. Though ill-suited for wand work, they were able to provide great power to rituals, drawing upon a more elemental magic than normally harnessed.

As the great families waned, some sought out such children. It was said their blood contained the purest magic of all, sheer power that passed on to their children. Some whispered that was why families such as the Malfoys rose to glorious heights, though such gossip is unproven.

A child – a child to mold in their image. A child with her magic... and what –

To end the war. To triumph – for the Potters to triumph. The greater good, indeed.

She wasn't the weapon.

They want to breed one.