April 2005
She takes to the mirror every now and then. She stays there for hours. Not out of vanity but out of curiosity. It's the red eyes. She keeps trying to bring them forward but can never get them quite right. She is so furious at herself for a moment that her eyes do spark red, just the right shade of crimson she was looking for. She is glad that she can get it right, but immensely puzzled by the way in which she does.
They spark a memory though. She cannot reach it properly or place it, but she remembers that scarlet shine from a long time ago.
Except that red was not angered. Those scarlet eyes she doesn't know who the owner was used to look at her often. And care. That red glare somehow brings forth the memory of being cared for. Maybe her parents kept a red-eyed house-elf. Maybe one of the wizards who fought with them was a Metamorphmagus like her. Or maybe that someone had a magical accident of some sort. Whoever they were, they cared for her, like her family does.
Her thoughts of asking her family about it scatter when something bursts in. Someone actually, and her magic calms down. Scorpius. Only Scorpius barges in like that. He has some sort of costume on, some magical creature that did not survive his ventures outside and his broom flying in a single piece. He has a book tucked under his left arm and demands to be read to. And that she makes her hair look silly.
She glares at him for a minute. Then turns her hair bright pink, giggles at his amazement and sits down on the floor, reaching for the book.
Astoria comes in a bit later. Scorpius is to go with his Mother, while she gets ready for her visit to the Ministry. Aunt Cissa follows her inside the room. She is here to help her with her hair, she says.
She knows she is really here to keep her calm. But she does need help with taming her curls anyway.
X
Narcissa loves this ritual of them. After she is dressed, Delphini sits on her bed with her back to her and she combs her curls with soft measured movements. The hairbrush in her right hand used to be Bella's and she had meant for it to be kept in her drawer at her own vanity as a token. But by the time Delphini turned six her curls had gone nearly as wild as her Mother's and she took to using this brush. It was the only brush that could survive Bella's mane, and the frequent tossing at walls. It is now the only brush that can tame her daughter's cascading locks. She suspects it's charmed.
It sooths the both of them. They very seldom talk, simply retreating into their own minds for a while. Narcissa thinks of what could have been, of the little white blond girl she birthed but never saw grow. It was far too soon. She would have dressed her, and combed her hair, and raised her. She never got to those things. She enjoys her second chance all the more for it.
Delphini sits there thinking of a woman with hair just like hers, of how she could be the one taming her wild locks. She cherishes that brush, and likes to follow the house crest engraved in the silver. But she likes best to look at the handle, where her Mother's name is engraved. She has seen Narcissa's brush; her name is engraved there too. She has sensed her Aunt's thoughts too. She feels longing there, missing, and once, just a couple of days ago, had a glimpse of an equal brush with a name she doesn't recognize. Feeling the hurt there, she hasn't asked.
Narcissa rises from the bed, chooses a ribbon from the vanity, and returns to the bed. She holds back her niece's hair, hiding the knot at the nape of her neck so that the porcelain face of the girl is surrounded by her hair and yet clear of it. She asks her to stand when she is finished and admires her prim figure.
Shiny black shoes, white socks that end just beneath her ankles and an aged-pink velvet dress. She knows Delphini would like green better, but she needs her to be the image of innocence today. So she tells her to keep her Mother's necklace under her clothes. The pink softens her immaculate poise just enough that she looks like any little witch.
X
Harry Potter stands in the parlour, waiting. He is the one who granted them the benefit of time before this ill-disguised inspection. Hermione Granger will be expecting them by the fireplaces at the Ministry. She is the one who made sure they would go to the Aurors and not the other way around. They would be inevitably prejudiced by a meeting at Malfoy Manor, and she feared, as they all did, that the wards on the house would raise suspicion. And that they could pick up on traces of her magical outburst just a few weeks ago.
They could not decide on who should go to the Ministry with her. They had come to the conclusion that any of them could be triggered into blasting the place apart altogether should Delphini be under menace. So they are all going. All but Astoria, made to stay behind by Draco. His son is doing what he did all those years ago. Shielding her from it, keeping her in the loop but at bay, so that she is safe should they fall. Lucius is glad that of all the things his son could have learned from him, he learned that particular skill.
When Delphini enters the room, Lucius hears Auror Potter take in a deep breath and then hold it for a while, like he can't believe the girl before him. They all wonder. They all stare. In that, she is a lot like her Father. She has a way of charming people, of automatically knowing how to conquer them. He can't help but think back to their first meeting after that day, of how she had shown herself to him, adapting so that she would be accepted and then conquering all. Her Father's daughter indeed.
He keeps his hand on Delphini's shoulder. He has learned that touching reassures her. That is how he's been building on her trust, by keeping a hand on her back when letting her through a door, by keeping a hand on her shoulder when she conquers some more control over her magic. She has taken to looking up to him at those moments, a small smile on her lips. He finally feels like an Uncle to her. But he hasn't forgiven himself yet.
X
Harry can't believe his eyes. He has not seen this girl since James was born. Draco had been to his house to congratulate him on the birth of Albus and Lily Luna, but not Delphini. There were too many people around for them to risk exposing her.
He is not quite sure of how Hermione managed to keep Ron from bursting into Malfoy Manor. He is still furious at the both of them for not telling him. But Hermione had been stern in telling him that it was handled. He still suspects Ron was put under a spell.
He snaps his mind back to the present. The three Malfoys stand behind Delphini, Lucius' hand is on her shoulder, a clear warning in that gesture. She stands before him with a composure no seven-year-old he has ever met possesses.
She raises her eyes to him, not smiling but somehow greeting him wordlessly. There is something in her, something awkwardly familiar, but he can't put his finger on it. It's not her looks; he supposes this is what Bellatrix Black looked like as a child. It's something to do with her Father, her real Father.
Then Delphini looks up to her family and nods. That is what seems familiar. She is in charge. That nod was her permission; she is telling the Malfoys what to do and when to do it, and they don't seem to notice. She looks back at him now, and there is a slight buzz in his head. He finds himself unable to look away. That is familiar too.
Can a seven year old be a Legilimens? His mind kicks the buzz out. He decides to discuss this later with Malfoy and Hermione. She may still turn out to be a lot more trouble than a Horcrux. But it's too late to take his decision back. There's only one way now, and that is forward. So he swallows and stands to the side when Narcissa takes hold of the Floo Powder pot on the mantle.
She takes Delphini's hand and steps into the fireplace, Lucius follows them, and her voice is quite clear "Ministry of Magic!"
"Getting cold feet, Potter? A bit late for that."
"Shut it, Malfoy! Get in here!" He steps inside the fireplace and waits for the Floo to be tossed as he listens to Draco's voice. He doesn't like to be the one doing the talking when it comes to Floo.
X
Hermione is struggling not to show her impatience. She keeps her hands steady on the slight bump at her abdomen. She doesn't doubt her decision to make a case for meeting on Ministry ground, but she can't accurately predict the consequences and the lack of control that implies leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
The Malfoys and Harry suddenly come to the bustling fireplaces at the Ministry. There is quite a crowd awaiting them.
Not them, her. The girl everyone has been talking about.
Some flashes spark instantly. Rita Skeeter is among the journalists, they couldn't forbid her. Narcissa and Lucius seem to sense her presence, more than actually seeing her. Lucius makes to walk toward her, but it's Narcissa that addresses her, gripping her arm and walking her to a corner. Hermione is surprised, even more when she notices how pale Skeeter has become. Rita raises her hands, showing her palms, then snatches her malevolent quill from the air and proceeds to one of the fireplaces in a hurry. Good, she thinks, that woman has no business in journalism, let alone in this.
The girl is apparently not fazed by the commotion at all. She nods to Hermione when greeted, and then looks from one wizard and witch to another as they are introduced.
A heavy silence falls with the last introduction. One could hear a pin drop.
"I suppose there is a reason for our presence here. Unless you cancelled it and forgot about telling us."
Her voice is the most un-child-like it can be. Steady, words carefully chosen, and her tone is just right. Unknowingly, she hopes, Delphini has just commanded the better part of the Ministry. She just got here and is already in charge of the whole thing. It's like she is playing chess and they are her pawns. She has an eerie feeling that she could beat Ron anytime.
She has conquered the Ministry. Lord Voldemort's daughter indeed.
They are well on their way down a corridor when she realizes it. She didn't think of Tom Riddle just now. She couldn't help but think of the Dark Lord Voldemort and feel a bit reverent.
"Are we trying to groom a Dark Lady this time around, Shacklebolt?"
The memory comes to her. She wasn't there that day, but Harry wanted her to know everything.
I sure hope not.
But the dread is there.
Author's Notes: sorry about the pace for these last few chapters, but I have quite an important exam mid-November and haven't been able to write as much as I'd like too. That being said, I have two more chapters ready that I will be uploading at about ten days intervals, so that I don't create a month long hiatus on this fic. After the exam, I intend on busting my mind and fingers on making up to you. Until then, there will be no more side-pieces, because although I have about half a dozen written, they haven't been edited.As always, reviews are highly appreciated