A/N: Hello all!
Here is the prologue of the next story I am currently working on.
It's been a little slow on the writing side, so I will try an update this story as regularly as possible.
Thank you and enjoy!
Prologe:
The Dark lord eyed the room filled with his followers, all of which were laughing and cheering Bellatrix on as she tortured Hermione Granger.
The moodblood had boldly snuck into Malfoy Manor by herself with nothing but her wand. The higher ranked Death Eaters had advised the Dark Lord that it was a trap, that the Mudblood Granger was there to throw them off. But the Dark Lord knew the Order wouldn't use her as bait, that she had come of her volition.
It had been two months since the Battle of Hogwarts where the Dark Lord decided to pull his troops back when Dumbledore had presented himself alive. Dumbledore that weak, disgusting, man. But this, the Mudblood at his feet, screaming herself hoarse, was a gift.
With a cruel smile, he let his eyes wonder, eyeing his wandering around the room, over his followers; most of the loyal had smiled at the scene before them, but the Malfoys, well, they stood in the front staring down at the Mudblood; Lucius in glee, Narcissa in disgust, and Young Draco in horror. Nagini, who was curled up by his feet, hissed in delight as the girl screamed once again. The Young Malfoy flinched back at the sound torn from the girl and closed his eyes tightly.
The Dark Lord leaned back in his throne, taking a drink from his goblet as Bellatrix sent another round of the Curcio her way, enjoying the Malfoy boy's discomfort.
"Anything to say, Mudblood?" Bellatrix said to the Mudblood with a cackle.
"I'm not here to talk to you," the Mudblood hissed, her bloodstained teeth bared for the room to see.
The Dark Lord had to admit he was impressed, not many could face off Bellatrix after hours of torture. Bellatrix gasped in disgust, her face contorting into a vicious sneer. The mad witch raised her want, the tip glowing an ominous green. The Mudblood hurried her face into the floor below.
"You disgusting little—" Bellatrix began, but the Dark Lord stood at that moment, his curiosity piqued.
"Now, now, Bella," he hissed, his voice smooth and even. He took several steps toward the Mudblood, though he still kept a healthy distance away, "that's no way to treat a guest."
The Dark Lord used the back of his foot to turn the Mudblood's face towards him, her eyes digging into his. Bellatrix crossed her arms in protest, grumbling under her breath much like a child would.
"What brings you to our humble abode, Mudblood?" The Dark Lord asked. The Death Eaters around them broke out in laughter, their hollers and snorts echoing in the room.
The Mudblood's face contorted in disgust for a moment, her eyes flashed with an unknown emotion before she jerked away setting her jaw. The Dark Lord laughed, his lips thinning into an amused smile.
"Very well," he said, turning his back walking to his throne, "Bella. Kill her."
Bellatrix cackled, her wand yet again pointed at the girl.
"My mother's name was Yolonda!" the Mudblood said, gasping after every word in desperation, "Yolonda Riddle— daughter of Tom and Jasmine Riddle."
The room grew deathly silent, and the Dark Lord's blood ran cold. He whipped back around to the girl on the floor. Bellatrix jumped back, taking quick steps backwards towards her sister at the anger in Voldemort's eyes.
"How dare you," he hissed down, charging at the girl.
The girl slipped her hand into her pocket, causing most of the Death Eaters to draw their wands on her crumpled form. She pulled out a tattered letter, yellowing and ripping at the ends. She lifted up towards the Dark Lord, her hand overtaken by tremors.
Severus Snape then decided to make a move form his place beside Draco, strutting over to the witch, snatching the letter and scanning it before paling.
"Severus." The Dark Lord said.
"She speaks the truth," the wizard said shakily, handing the letter over.
The Dark Lord took the letter ant read it as his followers watched. The letter read—
My Sweet Hermione,
There is so much I want to say but I will start with this; how much I love you, and I hope what I'm about to do is the right choice. I've found a muggle family willing to take you in— though I'm sure my father, your grandfather, would rather handle the situation on his own— but this isn't about his wants. His enemies are fierce, and they will use you— us— as a weapon against him.
I already know I am not to survive, those ranked high in the Order are efficient at tracking, and I don't doubt they have signed my death sentence. But they cannot hurt you if they don't know you've breathed your first breathe.
I don't know when you'll be reading this letter, but just know that it is proof that you are Riddle blood and that the protection granted under that name will follow you.
There are many things I want to tell you, but I am remise to say that time isn't on our side. Your grandfather, Tom Riddle is many things, and I'm sure that you will not move through our world without knowing his name. He and I may not see eye to eye but he will guard you. Don't let his cold exterior deter you from seeing him out in your time of need. Your grandmother, Jasmine, was kind, and I miss her every day, but she has gifted me an enchanted ring that will lead me to my father when I ask. Now I give it to you, tucked away with this letter and when your new family decides it's time for you to know about me.
And you may be asking about your father… he may not know about you now, but he will know when you reveal your identity if you choose to. He will keep you at an arms length, but give him time.
I love you with everything I have.
Your mother,
Yolonda Riddle.
The Dark Lord let the letter fall to the ground in his shock. The mudblood, his granddaughter, remained curled on the floor, taking in slow and even breathes.
"Why now," the Dark Lord whispered to himself, anger filling his very being.
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, his arrogance radiating off of him in waves, "my lord," he said with a bow, "what would you like us to do?"
Before Voldemort could speak, the girl shifted onto her back. "I need—" she began, outstretching her arm towards Bellatrix, calling the mad witches wand to her.
Gasps filled the room, and the girl— Hermione— pointed the wand to her abdomen, muttering a spell before a golden glow overtook the room for a moment, settling over Hermione's pelvic bone, a soft, but fast, beating reaching the Dark Lord's ears.
"You're okay," Hermione whispered, dropping the wand onto the floor, cradling her still flat stomach, "we're okay." She said, her eyes on Voldemort, unflinching and unafraid.
"A healer," the Dark Lord said, "we need a healer."