Chapter 2—The First Meeting

"Well, well, my child. You've grown so much. Thank goodness you have my hair, not your mother's," my father bared his teeth in a rather intimidating grin. Instinctively, I knew something was wrong. Father never joked. Never. Well… unless he needed to ask a huge favour…

Here it comes, I thought as my Father cleared his throat and fidgeted slightly in his chair. "Bella, since you are fifteen now, I find it appropriate that you join one of my little…gatherings."

I nearly fainted on the spot. He wanted me to join a Death Eater meeting?! Fighting to keep my face devoid of expression, I sealed my mind using all the Occlumency techniques I had ever learnt while praying that he would not choose this moment to use his stellar Legilimency skills, for showing fear in front of my father was akin to walking around with a giant neon sign that read: I am a sucker, kill me now! on my forehead. He stared hard at my forehead for what seemed like aeons, furrowing his brow in pure concentration. At long last, he let out a high, cold laugh which made the hairs on the back of my slender neck stand up. "Calm yourself, Bella. He's your father, how can you be unnerved by him? Pathetic! " I snarled at myself.

"Well, well, my dear. I see you've been practicing you Occlumency diligently," chuckled my father. "That will be of good use against Snape. Do NOT look at him during the meeting. He swears up and down that he's loyal to me, but you never know with him. Keep your mouth shut; I can't afford anyone finding out about your other identity. Don't tell them about Gemma Gardner, is that clear?"

I nodded. "Yes, father."

"Now, go. Nagini will be with you. And you have my full permission to curse anyone who looks at you the wrong way, if you know what I mean." He winked deviously.

I turned and exited the room, Nagini slithering at my heels. As much as I hated to admit it, I was filled with apprehension. I mean, really, who would want to be stuck in a room full of homicidal maniacs and sadists? All of a sudden, a husky voice interrupted my train of thoughts. "Hello, pretty girl. Looking fine tonight, ain't ya? Why don't you and I—" Before he could continue, I whipped out my wand and pointed it at the face of the stocky man who was standing before me, face obscured by a Death Eater mask. "Crucio!" he let out an unearthly roar and toppled backwards onto the parquet floor, writhing in pain. I smirked triumphantly. Evidently, my Cruciatus curse was stronger than anything he had previously experienced.

Without lifting the curse, I unsheathed my dagger and knelt beside him, pressing it against his neck. I could feel his pulse flittering madly beneath my fingers, just like a frightened rabbit. His eyes—well, what at least what I could see through his mask—were rolling about wildly. "Tsk, tsk, look at you. A grown man, cowering at the feet of a fifteen-year-old girl. How utterly pathetic. I can't see why Father would want scum like you as one of his Death Eaters." I released him form the vice-like grip of the Cruciatus and he lay on the floor, panting. His mask had slipped off, and I found myself staring at the face of Thorfinn Rowle. At last, realisation dawned on him.

"Your… your father… Death Eaters… ohh, Merlin's pants!" he gibbered incoherently, pupils dilating in terror at he stared transfixed at me. I rose, keeping my wand trained on his face. "Yes, you blithering fool! I. Am. Voldemort. And. Bellatrix. Lestrange's. Daughter! Any funny business and you will rue the day you were born. I am your Princess and from now on, any disruption shown to me is equivalent to disloyalty to my father. Of course, you know what the penalty for that is. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" I snarled in my most menacing voice. Needless to say, Rookwood swiftly stuttered out an apology and fled into the meeting room, all traces of his earlier lecherousness completely gone.

Satisfied that I had achieved dominance, I entered the meeting room, in which five or six men stood. Immediately whispers flitted through the chamber and I could feel the heat of the men's appraising eyes on me. Undeterred, I strode forward with an impassive expression, taking my place beside Father's ivory throne. Much to my relief, there were not Muggles in the room awaiting torture, as was the custom during meetings. Yes, I believed Muggles were filth and I did fancy hitting an innocent person with the Cruciatus every now and then, but that did not mean that I enjoyed seeing blood and guts all over the floor. Beside, whenever there were Muggle females, certain… indelicate things tended to happen, and that was not something I ever wanted to see.

"This," my father called out, "is my daughter, Belladonna Emerald Riddle, Princess of Death Eaters." Gasps echoed from all around the room, but they were quickly stifled. I stared unwaveringly at all of them, determined not to show a shred of weakness. Not here. Not in front of these people.

"I have brought her here today not for her initiation, but for her first meeting, which will be a short one as we are short of time tonight. Her initiation will be discussed at a later date. We are here to discuss the prophecy regarding the Potter boy and myself. I cannot take the prophecy myself, for it is protected by ancient magic. Tonight, you are here to devise a plan for the successful retrieval of the prophecy. Bella shall lead the discussion," proclaimed my father. I stepped forward, wand clutched tightly at my side. "Well," said I, "Avery, I understand that you work in the Ministry of Magic. Lucius, I know you have connections where it matters. So, any ideas?"

There was a long pause. "Your Highness, I have a plan," ventured Avery. "Of all the Senior Unspeakables, Broderick Bode is the most weak-willed. I propose that we put an Imperius Curse on him and force him to take the prophecy for us." I wrinkled my nose a little at this suggestion. "Are you sure? Will he be able to touch the prophecy if it has nothing to do with him? If a wizard as powerful as Father was unable to do it, well, what makes you think that Bode would be able to? " I queried.

Though his mask concealed his face, I was certain that at that moment, Avery's face was as white as a sheet. "Well, he is an Unspeakable, Your Highness. Surely they must have been taught something during their training that would be of use in this situation…" I was pretty sure that only I had noticed the almost-but-not-quite-well-supressed tremor in his voice. Seeing as my mind was completely devoid of useful ideas at the moment, and that I was a complete novice when it came to prophecies (I did not study Divination),I had no choice but to agree.

"Alright, then. It does seem as though we have gotten the main ideas down. Avery, practice your Imperius, make sure you get Bode with a powerful one. Malfoy, use your connections to get everyone out of the way including those pesky wizards who have been hanging around the Department of Mysteries lately. Do not rush into things. We do not want anyone at the Ministry to get wind of our intentions.

"Fear not, Your Highness. No one at the Ministry would ever dream that our Lord is back and ready to rule again." An oily voice rang out from next to Father. Shoulder-length blond hair, slight build, elaborately decorated cane. Definitely a Malfoy. "Fudge is as deluded as ever, and the Wizengamot is rather inclined to believe that Dumbledore is a senile, barmy old fool who has nothing better do to than to spout utter codswallop."

"Still, it is better to err on the side of caution," I shot back, with an edge in my voice. Fortunately, (for him, that is,) Malfoy was wise enough to back down. "Of course, Your Highness. You know best. I apologise for my hastiness," he murmured, bowing so low that his face was nearly parallel to the ground.

I continued, "Seeing as everything is nicely settled, I shan't stay any longer. I have urgent businesss to attend to." It was partially true, anyway. If I didn't make it back in time and my absence was noted… well it really didn't bear thinking about. With that, I turned and walked towards the exit. Of course, the fearful looks that the six Death Eaters shot me did not escape my notice. I smirked as I swept out of the room in a cloud of midnight-black robes. I was beginning to see what Father had meant about how people could get drunk on power…

I stepped into the parlour and picked up the Portkey—a coat hanger which my father had so kindly placed outside for me. Instantaneously, I felt a highly unpleasant jerking sensation behind my navel and my feet were lifted off the ground.