Twist of Fate

by FirePhoenix8

Harry is taken the night Dumbledore is about to leave him with the Dursleys. With forces meddling in the timeline, Harry and Tom become the Riddle brothers. Follow the boys from the 1930s, WWII & Grindelwald, to canon years and a much changed future. Slash.

10. Part II: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

There's no Harry/Tom in this chapter, and I suggest you read it when you're in a patient mood, since there's no action as well. Nevertheless, as always, everything that happens and is said is important for future things.

I hope you enjoy it!

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Part II: Chapter 1

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The world has much changed, mused a twenty-six year old Narcissa Malfoy as she stared at herself on the large, full-body gilded mirror in her boudoir.

Ascertaining that her personal house-elf had impeccably groomed her, the dress she wore seeming like a mantle of water wrapping along her slender body and the necklace of marquise-cut, blue topazes matching her icy beauty, she then turned her mind towards the ceremony that would take place in a few moments – the Naming Ceremony for her second son, the three-weeks-old Antares Harrison Malfoy.

Narcissa made a moue of distaste at what would soon be her son's middle name. It had been the subject of many arguments between her and Lucius.

She had the right to decide on the first name, following Black tradition by choosing from names of stars or constellations, but she had expected that tradition would also be followed by giving Antares his father's name as a middle one, as had been done with Draco. Instead, Lucius had informed her that the Dark Lord had already chosen 'Harrison'.

"Harrison," she had repeated, slightly narrowing her eyes at Lucius to convey her deep dissatisfaction, "a muggle surname? Why not Harry, to add insult to injury? It is just as mundane, despicable and muggle-like, but it is at least a first name."

Her voice had been laced with just the precise amount of stinging sarcasm, to let him know she wouldn't relent in her opposition, but what she hadn't expected was for Lucius to shoot her a sharp glance, gauging and piercing.

That had given her pause, wondering why the jibe would rattle him, why he seemed apprehensive and suspicious. Furthermore, Lucius had then swiftly informed her that the Dark Lord had decided to be Antares' godfather and as such, the choosing of a middle name lay with him.

Narcissa had remained silent at that, as Lucius expressed what a great honor was being bestowed upon them, by having the Dark Lord as the godfather of one of their sons. She couldn't dispute that, but the sheer strangeness of it added to her mounting wariness.

It was not only the fact that if the Dark Lord wanted to express his pleased satisfaction with Lucius he should have chosen Draco as the godson, the firstborn, and thus per tradition the one who should be the recipient of such gesture, but also that Lucius was so clearly distancing himself from his second son by not giving Antares his name.

She had further noticed that Lucius didn't visit the nursery at night, to gaze at his newborn son with pride and affection, as he had covertly done with Draco when he thought no one was watching.

No, Lucius was simply satisfied with Antares' birth, but evidently taking every measure to not become attached. It worried her still, making her wonder at the cause.

At first, she had thought that it could be due to the practical matter that having two sons would mean the division of the Malfoy fortune and estates between the two heirs. The Malfoys were known to have the strict rule of only having one heir precisely to avoid such problem. In the past, it was common to kill the first born females to give way to the birth of a male heir, or to simply kill at birth the spare male child who had been begotten unintentionally.

Lucius always seemed proud that his family had showed such ruthlessness, which had allowed the Malfoys to amass such a great fortune by only having one heir per generation. Meanwhile, Narcissa had always inwardly boasted that the Blacks had no need of that, their original fortune being so great that it had allowed them to have not only two branches of the family since time immemorial but also to have no need to curtail their progeny, the Black fortune seamlessly divided among all without causing squabbles.

But she had soon discovered that Lucius had no intention of dividing the Malfoy fortune; all would go to Draco, and Antares would only be given a generous, lifelong allowance.

It was not enough, in her view; no son of hers would be thought a pauper by comparison. However, Narcissa knew not to fight a lost battle and was already planning what could be done for Antares. Her objective was to gain for him all the Black estates and fortune.

One of her Black cousins, Sirius, had been disowned since the man was a teen, and Regulus had mysteriously disappeared nearly a year ago. That only left who was now the Patriarch of Black House, the only surviving Black of his generation: doddering, old Alphard Black, who had long ago become a recluse in Grimmauld Place.

If only old Alphard was dead, as he was by now in her Old Past, it would be much simpler. Nevertheless, Narcissa knew what to do; when Antares was older, she would start paying visits to her Uncle Alphard, taking Antares along with her, and subtly manipulating matters so that an attachment was formed between old man and boy, so that Alphard would ultimately name Antares his heir.

Alphard Black had always been a sentimental fool, according to what her father had once said regarding his brother, thus Narcissa only needed to be patient.

Narcissa flicked her wand and added a dangling curl of blond hair to her hairdo, and finally satisfied with her appearance, she picked up the trail of her dress and with an elegant, fluid motion, left her lavish, tasteful bedroom.

As she reached the grand stairwell, which led to the ground floor of Malfoy Manor -the sounds of the chattering of guests, the clinking of goblets and the soft, melodic, background music reaching her ears- she met Lucius by the balustrade and placed her hand on the arm he solicitously offered.

Lucius' eyes swept along her with approval and then they silently descended; not a word spoken between them, since as usual they left their conversations for private moments. Foremost, in public, they presented a joined front.

There was no deep, passionate love between them, but rather companionship, mutual support as they both dexterously danced the political spheres, displaying a match in dispositions, breeding and social skills, and even trust – trust that they would both do what was best for their family, even when they had slightly differing opinions on what that entailed. But such arguments and plots were left for when they were alone.

And thus they were received by their guests, those most attached to the Malfoys either by blood or political and business connections: the Greengrasses, the Goyles and Crabbes, the Parkinsons, Jezabel Zabini and her fifth new husband with their baby son, the Carrows and Averys, the Notts and Puceys, the Flints, and such, and of course, the Lestranges - Bellatrix with her husband Rabastan, and Andromeda, Rodolphus and their baby boy, Lorcan.

As Narcissa swept her gaze along the congregated guests, she inevitably reminisced about the day it had all changed, turning her world upside down. It had been October 31st, 1981; nearly ten months ago.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had left to pay a visit to the Potters, to kill them all for some mysterious reason of his own. The Grey Wizard, as the unknown man was called since he always appeared in public in a hooded grey cloak, which shrouded his face, was nowhere to be seen.

Up until then she had known nothing regarding the man except what she had learned through her husband's chilly words when he vented his frustrations; how the Grey Wizard had simply appeared one day a few months ago, demanding to see the Dark Lord, how after that first meeting behind closed doors he had been a frequent guest, and how most of the Death Eaters grumbled about it.

Regardless, it had been that very night of All Hallows Eve, a few moments past midnight, when the Death Eaters had felt their Dark Marks burning, alerting them that something had happened to their Lord after going to the Potter's, the very night Lucius had found that the wards had dropped around the pensieve his father had so long ago left him -along with the grimoire and instructions of precisely when to use the ritual- and when Lucius had plunged into the pensieve and told her nothing of what he had found out. After which, Lucius had swiftly gathered the Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons, and the Lestranges and convinced them to undergo the ritual as they waited for the Dark Lord's return.

Then a Death Eater had suddenly burst into Malfoy Manor, relaying the news that the Potter's home was in shambles, nothing left but the corpses of James and Lily Potter, the Dark Lord's wand lying on ashes –presumably all that was left of him- and with the Potter's baby gone.

For some reason, it seemed that that had been precisely what Lucius had been waiting for.

The Lestranges, Bellatrix and Barty Crouch Jr. were in a raging frenzy, disbelieving the news of the demise of their Lord and with every intention of going to the Longbottoms, to torture them for information, since it was known that Lord Voldemort had planned on killing them after being done with the Potters.

In a drastic action which had surprised Narcissa, Lucius had ordered them to stay put and then had swiftly locked down the wards on Malfoy Manor, preventing anyone from leaving, clearly having no time to waste in trying to get through the Lestranges and Bellatrix.

Then he had apparated away and had left Narcissa to deal with her enraged sister.

Many long hours had passed, night turning to day as she awaited for Lucius' return, when by evening time, it had happened: she had had the fleeting sensation that the very earth shook, and then memories she had never before experienced had flooded into her mind, making her gasp and clench her eyes shut at the avalanche, at the surplus of information which warred with other set of memories, fluidly and painlessly, yet leaving her dazed and disoriented.

Some of those recollections were the exact same, others not, yet her two sets of memories seemed to fuse together precisely then. It still perplexed and confused her.

All the while, those Death Eaters and followers who hadn't been chosen by Lucius to undergo the ritual had shrieked and screamed, falling to their knees, their expressions one of agony as if their minds were being torn apart. And then, as two Death Eaters had vanished into thin air, as if they had never existed, there had been silence.

Those Death Eaters for which the change had been painful, had blinked, standing up and puzzling about why they had been on the floor, remembering nothing of what had happened. They didn't have two pasts, only one; the new.

And then Narcissa had seen her sister Andromeda standing there, out of the blue, so changed for the worse, and with a baby boy in her arms which appeared to be several months younger than Draco.

Andromeda had carefully plopped the child into Rodolphus' arms, with all the naturalness in the world and as if it was something she frequently did. Though she hadn't shown an ounce of affection for the man.

Meanwhile, Rodolphus had stared at her and then at Bellatrix and back, looking dazed and blinking quickly. Finally, he had automatically wrapped his arms around the baby boy and simply stood rooted in place, looking as if a rush of tumultuous thoughts were spinning in his mind and he didn't quite know what to make of it all.

All the while Bellatrix had begun shrieking with crowing laughter, with giggles interspersed here and there, as she raised her arms into the air and madly spun around, whilst Rabastan fixedly stared at her with wide eyes and a paling face.

As Narcissa had finally allowed the new set of her memories to encompass her mind, she had begun to faintly understand the scene before her. Though with Bellatrix it was impossible to know what was going through her mind; whether the witch's celebration was due to the fact that she had now a new, younger husband or if it was because the Dark Lord-

Narcissa had frowned at that aborted thought, feeling hazily and increasingly confused. She hadn't had the time to order her thoughts or recollections since Lucius had then abruptly apparated back, uncharacteristically stumbling and looking vastly disoriented.

She had instantly gone to him, taking Lucius by the arm as she steered him to take a seat. All the while, she had taken particular notice of the things he was muttering under his breath, as if to himself.

"…the half-giant oaf and Dumbledore recognized him from the past… it's like Father had said… the two lines converged right then, it was the point of origin… I think it worked, it must have worked…"

Narcissa hadn't been able to understand her husband's mumblings –lines and origins?- and her temper had flared, since she had still felt confused and uneasy regarding the two sets of memories she possessed.

"Lucius, do me the courtesy of explaining matters to me," she had whispered sharply, "or I will scream."

Lucius had snapped his head up at that, staring at her and gauging the seriousness of her threat, to then quietly hiss through his teeth, "You would not dare."

Narcissa had arched a delicate eyebrow at him, challengingly. In the next second, though, she had relented. No, she wouldn't, she hadn't been about to make a scene in public; she had better breeding than that.

Thus, she had simply sat down next to him and turned her face around to gaze at him with a cold look. "Well?"

"All you need to know is –"

"All I need to know?" she had interjected testily, her expression chilling as her tone of voice slightly rose.

Lucius had shot her a look of warning. "Cissy, please."

She had skewered him with her gaze and then quietly cleared her throat. "Pardon me."

Her husband had nodded, accepting her apology, and Narcissa had simply waited, her spine straight, her beautiful face impassive.

Lucius then had seemingly ordered his own thoughts, decided what she should know, and had grabbed her hands, as he whispered adamantly, "Listen, Cissy, our life up until now – that's our old past. The new memories we now have, of a different life, that's our new past – it's the only past that matters. It is, from now on, our true past. Forget the old and embrace the new. Now things are for the better, because they were made to be better. And right now we only have one present and will only have one future. Do you understand?"

"I do not," she had answered coldly, piercing him with her gaze, demanding she would be told the full extent of it.

Lucius had made a noise of vexation, but Narcissa hadn't had the chance to press him for more information, since at that instant three wizards had apparated before the congregated Death Eaters: the Grey Wizard, Abraxas Malfoy, and the Dark Lord.

Seeing the latter two had been like a spine-chilling shock to Narcissa. There, was Abraxas Malfoy, alive, looking to be in his thirties, as if he was Lucius' brother and not his father. And the Dark Lord, so different from the one she had known from her 'old past', as Lucius had called it.

That was not Lord Voldemort before her; gone was the wizard she remembered from her Old Past, no longer with a pasty, pale face with features which lacked definition, no longer with slitted pupils like that of a serpent's, the irises now dark blue which only turned that fearsome shade of crimson when the wizard displayed powerful dark magic or when his temper took a hold of him. His features were now regal and handsome, his hair a silky, wavy black, and his appearance that of a thirty-year-old young man in his prime.

He was Lord Slytherin, her mind supplied, from the new set of memories she now possessed. Marvolo Slytherin.

Narcissa had forced her mind to quiet down, not deigning the moment to be appropriate for inward perusals. Instead, she had smoothly stood up while Lucius had met Abraxas in a tight embrace, both men strongly patting each other on the back, like father and son at long last reunited.

Of course, for the rest of the Death Eaters nothing seemed strange; they only remembered the New Past. Indeed, they had received the three wizards with the usual acclaim and nothing else.

Only the Crabbes, Goyles, and Parkinsons were whispering among themselves, undoubtedly attempting to match the Abraxas Malfoy who had died from dragon pox so long ago, in their Old Past, with the Abraxas Malfoy they saw before them. And indubitably, they were trying to match the Dark Lord from their Old Past, Lord Voldemort, with the one of their New Past, Lord Slytherin.

Narcissa had swept by the tight little group that those families had formed and had heard their speculations; '… the Dark Lord is much more powerful now, and he must be immortal, and what had Abraxas Malfoy done to remain so young? – the Dark Lord must have conferred to him immortality and eternal youth, somehow…'

The other family who had undergone the ritual from Abraxas' grimoire was the Lestranges of course, but Narcissa had seen that they had all been too occupied with their own problems to pay much attention to anything else.

Rodolphus had still looked shocked at having found himself with Andromeda for a wife and with a son to boot, while Rabastan had seemed to want to scream and protest for having found himself saddled with Bellatrix for a wife. And Bellatrix…

Narcissa had sighed. Well, Bellatrix hadn't appeared to have had any problems in adjusting to her new situation. She had been by then clinging to the Dark Lord, worshipfully gazing up at him. If Bellatrix had fanatically adored the Dark Lord before, when he was Lord Voldemort, now that he was the handsome Lord Slytherin for all the more reason.

Finally, after making sure that all her guests had been properly attended to, Narcissa had slipped away to the library for a moment of peace in which she could make head and tails of the situation. She had chosen her favorite chaise longue and had rested her eyes as she plunged into her two sets of memories.

The immediate differences between New and Old Past were simple to detect: Andromeda's and Bellatrix's marriages, Regulus disappearing instead of Gringotts' goblins notifying her that he was declared dead as had happened in the Old Past, Alphard Black still living, and most importantly, the Grey Wizard, Abraxas Malfoy and the Dark Lord.

The Grey Wizard's case was peculiar; it had confused her. They were the same in both her New and Old Past. She still had never seen the wizard's face, always hooded, but the man looked to be hunched under his robe, in both Pasts. The only difference was that in the New Past, the Grey Wizard had been by Lord Slytherin's side since the seventies, when Lord Slytherin had made himself the Dark Lord. In the Old Past, however, the Grey Wizard had simply appeared out of the blue, and had just been visiting Lord Voldemort during a few months before the Dark Lord had gone to kill the Potters.

Regarding the Dark Lord himself, from her New Past she remembered when she had been a girl and her mother, Druella Rosier, had gushed and praised the handsome and brilliant Marvolo Slytherin from her schooldays, who had formed the Knights of Walpurgis who would later become the Death Eaters. Druella had also said something about a boy she had detested, Marvolo Slytherin's twin.

Narcissa had frowned at that, since nowhere in her New Past did she find anything relating to that mysterious twin of the Dark Lord, but she soon discarded it as inconsequential. The boy must have died from some illness or some such thing and it didn't affect her anyway.

Furthermore, from her New Past Narcissa remembered her own schooldays during the seventies when the first rumors about a Dark Lord had started to spread among dark pureblood circles. When she had become engaged to Lucius she had even met him in person and had been struck by Lord Slytherin's handsomeness and cunning, charming manners. Nevertheless, the dark power the wizard exuded had always been frightening as well as awe-inspiring.

Indeed, comparing the Dark Lords from her Old and New Past, besides the differences in appearance, there were also differences in their personalities. She had always thought Lord Voldemort to be dangerously unbalanced, but Lord Slytherin was quite another matter. He was fierce and fear-inspiring, surely, but also suave and highly skilled in smooth, subtle manipulations.

Perhaps that Lord Slytherin wasn't savagely deranged as when he had been Lord Voldemort could explain why the wizard felt much more powerful. Lord Voldemort had been incredibly powerful, of course, but not to such a flabbergasting degree that left everyone breathless when in his presence for long as happened with Lord Slytherin.

Of course, Abraxas was also added to the mix. Lucius' father was the right-hand of Lord Slytherin, Narcissa saw from her set of memories of her New Past.

It hadn't happened like in the Old Past, when Abraxas had sole-handedly raised Lucius since the man's wife, Kasimira von Krauss, had never taken any great interest and had died when Lucius had been a child. Back then, Abraxas had been a Death Eater but hadn't been too deeply involved, rather more occupied with his businesses and with strictly raising his heir, to ultimately die from dragon pox when Lucius had been eighteen years old.

On the other hand, Narcissa saw that in the New Past it had been Kasimira who had raised Lucius. Abraxas had only been popping in and out of Lucius' life. Later it was known that he had been spending all those years with Lord Slytherin, in travels, apparently. Indeed, Abraxas had only returned to England, to stay, in the seventies, when Lord Slytherin had begun to make a name for himself as a Dark Lord. With Abraxas back in England to take the reins of Malfoy business and to take care of his son, Kasimira had then left to lead her own life as she pleased. She was still alive, living in Argentina or some such place, apparently.

Regardless, what mattered to Narcissa was that she and Kasimira didn't seem stand each other, from the few times they had met before the woman had left England, in the New Past.

Other than that, and that she saw that there were some people who didn't exist and some other new ones who did, comparing Old and New Past, there wasn't that great deal of a difference.

Even that day had been very similar in the New Past; Lord Slytherin had gone to kill the Potters at midnight of All Hallows Eve, reason still unknown, though the Grey Wizard had accompanied him –instead of being missing like in the Old Past- along with Abraxas. All the while the Death Eaters had gathered at Malfoy Manor to await, and Lucius had taken the Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons and Lestranges –without Andromeda- along with her, and had conducted the ritual.

The same ritual with the same families as in the Old Past, and also with them being none the wiser of why it was needed and what it did, exactly. Though in this instance they all knew that the Dark Lord approved it. In the Old Past, Narcissa didn't think Lord Voldemort had known about it.

On another note, the only thing that stood out was that even though the Wizarding War of the 40s was lost in basically the same way, Gellert Grindelwald had simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again, instead of having been defeated by Albus Dumbledore and then imprisoned in Nurmengard.

But again, she had deemed that that hardly affected her, so she had dismissed it. Oh, how foolish she had been.

Having done that little analysis, which had helped her to ease her mind from the conflicting set of memories, Narcissa had then left the library, to find the Death Eaters and other followers celebrating in the ballroom.

The Dark Lord Slytherin had been giving a speech regarding his plans for the future; "… now at last, real changes will come," he had said.

And during the grand celebration that followed, Narcissa had been given a gift.

"We can have a second child, Cissy," Lucius had told her as he pulled her to a side in the midst of the gathering. "The Dark Lord insists upon it, he is granting us a great favor in payment for my service and loyalty."

Narcissa had stared back at him, speechless yet also wary and suspicious. Her husband had never wished for another child and the healers had warned her, after Draco's birth, that attempting a second pregnancy would be extremely dangerous for her health.

However, if the Dark Lord had a way to heal her womb, as was evidently implied, and even if he did it only to have another Malfoy to add to his ranks in the future, she had been willing to pay the price.

It hadn't been out of maternal, loving and sentimental wishes of having another baby. No, it had been more raw and primal than that; it was a desire to have another life which would be flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood, another Black that wouldn't be the Malfoy heir but, rather, completely hers.

And yet, what had followed after she had accepted, she hadn't anticipated. Abraxas had a whole wing of Malfoy Manor for himself, as expected since he had lived there in the New Past, but the Dark Lord, as well, had installed himself in the best guest room after that night of celebration in which Narcissa and Lucius had conceived their second child.

It had been then when her misgivings and apprehensions had begun.

It started the following day after the celebration, when the Dark Lord had cast a spell to ascertain that she had a new life growing in her womb, and when the Dark Lord had given her a present – a hideous golden locket with an incrusted emerald upon which laid a silver serpent in the shape of an 'S', evidently a Slytherin heirloom.

She would have felt honored by the priceless gift, but she grew to be wary of it due to what it made her feel: not the potent dark magic that emanated from it, but the stirring of something within, as if frantically wishing to escape.

During all those months of pregnancy in which she had wore it, she had experienced several nights in which she had been abruptly awoken, dazedly thinking she had heard a desperate wail from within the depths of the locket. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to open it, but still the sensation had remained that there was something there that frenziedly cried for release from its prison.

The Dark Lord had become a fixture in the Manor in the following months of her pregnancy, allowing no healers to attend to her but only Severus Snape and himself.

Furthermore, Lord Slytherin had constantly laid a hand on her bulging and growing belly, without bothering to ask for permission but rather intent and concentrated in his actions, making Narcissa feel streams of dark magic flowing from the wizard's palm to be infused into the life she carried. She hadn't said a word but she had wondered with concern about the cause for the Dark Lord's wish for such transfer.

The Dark Lord gave nothing for free, and never his own magic, so why? And why such an interest in a second son of the Malfoy House? She still didn't know, and even though it was a further honor to have the Dark Lord as her son's godfather, it didn't bode well regarding what the Dark Lord would demand in the future.

Furthermore, most peculiar of all, Abraxas didn't take any interest in her pregnancy. He even seemed to avoid her during those months, as if something about it was unbearable and painful to him. Quite in contrast with how content and proud he had been when Draco was begotten and born in her New Past, which was the past of the life she led now.

Narcissa pulled away from her musings and regarded the guests present for Antares' Naming Ceremony.

As usually happened when Narcissa laid eyes upon her elder sister, she felt a twinge of regret but which passed swiftly as she suppressed it. Yes, Andromeda had changed much compared to how she had been in her Old Past. There was no happiness in Andromeda's eyes: they were dull, her expression hard, bitter and beaten down.

Nevertheless, Narcissa rather have a sister properly married and occupying her rightful social standing, than an estranged one who had turned her back to heritage and blood, betraying all to follow a selfish whim of love for a mudblood.

Narcissa still remembered that memory of her Old Past, when she had once seen Andromeda meandering in Diagon Alley with a six-year-old girl whose hair continually changed from pink to purple. Their gazes had met then, very briefly, and Narcissa had seen the happiness in Andromeda's eyes, the love and pride she held for her small daughter. It had been fleeting, and Narcissa had coldly and indifferently turned her gaze away from the elder sister she had once loved so deeply and whom she felt had betrayed her when abandoning her family.

Now, as Narcissa saw it, Andromeda's happiness and her daughter had been swapped for a proper marriage and a boy, a Lestrange heir. She had her sister back, in a situation in which they could be close, and it was a fair price. And better yet, Andromeda didn't know what she had lost and thus wouldn't suffer for it.

With Lucius by her, Narcissa at last took her place before the marble plinth in which her son Antares laid wrapped in a black, silk blanket, with Hetty, the nursemaid house-elf, nervously fidgeting as she made sure the baby wouldn't move too much and tumble down. Bellatrix, Abraxas, the Dark Lord and the Grey Wizard were by her side at the forefront of the gathering.

Indeed, the 'Grey Wizard'. Still no one knew who he was yet rumors and speculations ran amok. However, Narcissa knew; she remembered. Yet she had to repress a chilly shudder and drive away the memory of when she had given birth to Antares and seen the man's face.

Nevertheless, she was quite certain Lucius knew the man's identity by now and she had no doubt that the Dark Lord would soon reveal it – it would only add to his political clout and to his following.

She observed the Dark Lord's expression as the wizard stared down at Antares, and the possessive, satisfied and smug look on the man's handsome face - something in it - chilled her to the bone.

Moreover, it still marveled her that all knew about the Dark Lord's blood status as a halfblood, so unlike her Old Past where the wizard had been a mystery and the name Lord Voldemort wasn't uttered even in a whisper since it instilled abject fear.

Now the name Voldemort had never existed and it was known that Marvolo Slytherin was a halfblood, and yet none of the purebloods cared, not when the wizard's power and dark magic thrummed and vibrated around him so potently and enticingly.

Nevertheless, she reminded herself, still many mysteries regarding the Dark Lord remained. Foremost, what the wizard had been doing all those years when he and Abraxas were missing, and what the Dark Lord had done to make them have two sets of memories.

At first, the most obvious answer that had come to her mind was that the powerful wizard had changed the past.

Lord Voldemort had been waging a years-long war up until the moment he went to kill the Potters for whatever reason, and yet the Dark Lord's attempts to have wizarding Britain under his rule had been unsuccessful. Many raids and attacks and political plots had been carried, but admitting it bluntly, the wizard had been failing.

Thus, it could lead to believe that the Dark Lord had taken a desperate and risky measure of changing the past, which had borne Lord Slytherin.

However, Narcissa had covertly researched the matter -careful that Lucius wouldn't discover her pursuit- and everything she had read had made it clear that changing the past wasn't possible and that time-travelling was a very risky business that not even a Dark Lord would be crazed enough to attempt.

Furthermore, if the wizard had somehow time-travelled by mysterious means –since from what she had read, the 24-hour standard time-turner didn't allow the user to truly change anything – then why hadn't the Dark Lord changed the past so that he had already conquered as much of the wizarding world as possible?

As far as she could see, nothing significant had been changed up until the day when the Potters had been killed.

Up until then, her Old and New Past were very similar in the grand scheme of things: the political regimes were the same in the wizarding world, Britain still had a Ministry of Magic controlled by light wizards, and the Dark Lord, both Lord Voldemort in the Old Past and Lord Slytherin in the New Past, had still been uselessly waging a war – the exact same raids and attacks, eerily enough, only that Lord Slytherin seemed to have always expected the failures, his punishments bland, as if he was just going through the motions.

The true changes had come after the Dark Lord, Lord Slytherin, had returned to Malfoy Manor after killing the Potters, with Abraxas and the Grey Wizard in tow.

It was from then on when Britain's wizarding world had been turned upside down, as if the Dark Lord had had a renewed surge of vitality, power, and brilliancy - or as if he had been long waiting to finally put his true plans into action. It was most peculiar.

Failed and pointless raids were no longer conducted, the man's very strategy had been drastically changed, and a swift coup d'état had been efficiently managed from within the very Ministry of Magic. So quickly, so suddenly, that no one had had time to blink or even do anything against it before it was a fait accompli.

And more perplexing of all, the one wizard whom Narcissa had expected to attempt to fight against it had simply vanished. Indeed, Albus Dumbledore had fled, of all unexpected and uncharacteristical things, from Britain, along with several light wizarding families like the Weasleys, the Bones, and the Longbottoms.

Their names were now infamous, the 'Wanted' as they were listed as, and none knew their whereabouts. Though the Dark Lord didn't seem particularly interested in finding them nor worried about what Albus Dumbledore could be doing and plotting.

Those purebloods, even the light-oriented, which remained had simply embraced the change of political regime in the Ministry of Magic with calmness, clearly waiting to see if it would serve their interests. Indeed, she had even expected that her estranged cousin, Sirius Black, would have trailed after Dumbledore, given that the man's friends, the Potters, were dead and since he was close to the Longbottoms. And yet she had heard that Sirius was out and about, lingering in England.

The rest -the halfbloods and mudbloods- seemed to be either too afraid or simply resigned, knowing they didn't have the power to form a serious opposition, not with Albus Dumbledore gone. Furthermore, they still didn't have any great cause for concern.

The Dark Lord had implemented, through his control over the Ministry, subtle and slow changes, evidently being careful to not raise alarm among the populace. There was still a Ministry of Magic after all, still the illusion of a democracy and not the dictatorship of a Dark Lord.

Indeed, in the face of the public, the one who dictated policy was Lucius himself, the Minister who had been elected by the Wizengamot, indisputably, openly and 'legally'.

Though Narcissa still wondered what price the Dark Lord had demanded from Lucius in exchange for such an exalted position. The fact that Lucius had been informed of his new career the very day the Dark Lord detected she was pregnant with Antares made her suspect, and already was she plotting how to avoid or confront the worst.

All of it had happened during her pregnancy, added to the changes at Hogwarts through the appointment of Severus Snape as Headmaster and the Carrows as professors for the new Dark Arts class, along with several other adjustments.

Narcissa knew well that the most drastic changes would come in the months to follow, subtly and step by step, with wise patience since that seemed to be the Dark Lord's new strategy.

She had an inkling of who could have influenced the wizard's modus operandi. It could have only been the Grey Wizard, given what she knew of him, and she could only wonder for how long the latter had mentored the former and what further plans they had up their sleeves.

That the Dark Lord would soon be plotting to take over the rest of Europe was evident given the wizard's latest speeches to his followers; that it would be done as sagely as the coup in Britain was also clear. That perhaps some country would rebel and would wage a war was also possible. But Narcissa no longer feared the risk it represented to her family, not as she would have if the Dark Lord had been Lord Voldemort instead of Lord Slytherin.

And yet, she still wondered why the Dark Lord had waited so long - why until then.

The discreet clearing of a throat made her abruptly pull away from her thoughts, and Narcissa shot Lucius a glance, understanding dawning on her when she then caught sight of the expectant guests.

Remembering her duty, she smoothly turned her head to a side as she bowed and softly spoke with the just amount of deference and politeness, "May we begin, My Lord?"

With Lord Slytherin's terse agreement, the Naming Ritual commenced. And as since she had no great part in it, she allowed her mind to wander once more, while father, godfather, and the godmother she had chosen –her sister Bellatrix– conducted the proceedings and intoned the name-bestowing enchantment that would ensure Antares a place in the Malfoy and Black family records and tree-lines.

Indeed, as she silently gazed down at her three-weeks-old baby, she was struck, briefly, by the spine-chilling fear she had felt the day she had given birth to Antares.

The experience had been horrible, terrifying and traumatic, and it still shook her to the very bones when she remembered it.

However, all doubts vanished from her mind when, as she observed her son, Antares' eyes, which looked so huge and endearing in his tiny face, abruptly changed to a silvery blue as he gazed up at his father and gurgled, his locks of wavy black with some curls here and there transforming to a tuft of platinum blond hair.

She even saw Lucius' lips quirking upwards at Antares' unwitting imitation of his father's looks, and a strong thought reverberated in her mind as she gazed back at her son: he's mine, there's no doubt about it, no matter what they did to him.

A surge of fierce pride swelled up within her as Antares' coloring changed once again. A Black through and through, a Metamorphagi at that; the greater and most powerful display of his Black ancestry that could be had, and what an honor and merit it was to have a son with such a blood trait present in him.

While Draco looked more like Lucius with every passing day, Antares was clearly all her. The shape of Antares' features didn't change yet, he was by far too young to modify such with his Metamorphagus ability, unwittingly or not, but Narcissa was content with it since it gave her ample opportunity to see how much he resembled her; her refined and delicate features in a tiny, boyish face.

He would be stunning.

Draco was Lucius', the heir to be molded by his father as he pleased, to be strictly taught how to be the future Patriach of Malfoy House, and Narcissa would simply limit herself to temper Lucius' lessons with subvert, subtle and brief coddling, to give Draco some slight measure of a carefree childhood. But Antares would be different.

Lucius had chosen to not stake a claim on him, implicitly, by inaction, but she had made it clear that she had.

The spare son, the superfluous Malfoy child who would receive no Malfoy vault or estate, would be a Black, all hers, through and through. Hers to pass unto him the Black legacy and all teachings, hers to ensure a way for him to receive all Black vaults and estates, hers to shape and raise without Lucius' interference.

At last the ceremony came to an end, followed by the congratulations of their guests and even by Bellatrix cooing at Antares, raking a sharp nail along one small, round cheek, causing the baby to wail in complaint, though Bellatrix seemed to find it vastly amusing as she let out a crowing giggle and said in a pleased singsong, "Little, bitty, tiny Black - Black, Black, Black."

Narcissa simply allowed her sister to have her fun until she detected that Antares was quickly getting moodier and increasingly fussy.

Shooting a cold look at Bellatrix for what the witch had caused –with Bellatrix answering back with a nasty, smug smirk and another crow of laughter– she sharply ordered Hetty the house-elf to take the baby back to his nursery. And with a swift round of making her excuses to her guests with promises of returning shortly, she soon followed after.

As she crossed the Manor with an elegant fluidity of motion, she caught sight of a figure following at her same pace, but not along the corridors as her, but through walls and doors.

Narcissa didn't falter in her steps, though her jaw clenched momentarily and her hand automatically made a move to reach her wand – she forestalled that action and simply continued, keeping track of the figure from the corner of her eyes.

As soon as she reached Antares' nursery she curtly dismissed Hetty and simply stood by the cradle, gazing down at a wailing Antares who had clearly had had too much excitement for one day.

She just waited, without moving, as she stared at her son.

She noticed the exact moment the figure came out of a wall and placidly stood by a corner, inches away from the cradle. Only then did Narcissa raise her head to stare at It.

It looked exactly the same as the two times she had seen It; shimmering, nearly translucent and with a golden light which seemed to sparkle and emanate from It - or him, she didn't quite know.

If It had a solid consistency she would think he was a wizard, a man in his early twenties, tanned, handsome and manly, with curls of dark hair and the eeriest eyes she had ever seen – milky white, sheer, and sometimes even seeming as if clouds, or nebulas or even tiny stars moved through them, like reflections.

The eyes made a shudder run down her spine.

Antares had been born with those eyes and when she had seen her baby for the first time she had nearly screamed in horror, thinking that what they had done to him had caused her son to become blind. Then, in the next second, Antares' eyes had turned into her shade of clear blue and she had let out a deep exhalation of relieved breath.

Nevertheless, it rattled her and she didn't know the reason why Antares had had those eyes, like It's, and why sometimes, briefly, her son's eyes would turn into that hue again.

It seemed to be his default color; that, and a beautiful, vibrant shade of green – which sometimes she had the vague sensation she had seen before.

Regardless, at present, it was the third time she saw It.

The first occasion had been during Antares' birth and she had simply thought at the time that she had been hallucinating, caused by the pain or simply due to the horrendous proceedings.

It hadn't spoken then, just stood there, like a ghostly observer, saying nothing and simply watching. And the three wizards who had been in her room hadn't noticed or detected It in any way. By the time Narcissa had recovered her coherency and coolness, It was gone.

The second time had been the day after, when Narcissa had gone into the nursery to visit her newborn son, halting in her tracks by the threshold, momentarily petrified as she saw It standing by the cradle and gazing down at Antares with an odd intensity in It's eerie eyes.

Narcissa had been further alarmed when Hetty had gone through It as if it wasn't there at all, clearly the house-elf not seeing It either. Only Narcissa seemed to be capable of seeing It, evidently because It wanted her to.

That day she hadn't thought about it twice and a curse had been on her lips as she whipped out her wand, at the same time that she manipulated the wards of Malfoy Manor with the fingertips of her left hand. But as commanded by the swift movements of her fingers, the wards hadn't wrapped around It and flung It out of the Manor. No, nothing had happened, and Narcissa had been puzzled and scared.

The wards couldn't get a hold of It and It looked like a strange ghost, but she knew It couldn't be that.

Years ago, in her very first day as Lucius Malfoy's newlywed wife, she had swept along the whole Manor, taking control of the house-elves, letting the wards adjust to her as they keyed her in and gave her a control over them which she would share with Lucius, while she inspected every nook and cranny of her new home and planned for the modifications in décor she would make. Then she had been abruptly startled when a pair of Malfoy ancestor ghosts had floated through her.

With one look at them she had deemed them uninteresting and annoying and she had instantly demanded of Lucius that they be banished to some faraway corner of the Manor. It was distasteful to have ghosts rattling and bothering guests and family, and it would not happen in her domain. Lucius had grudgingly yielded to her demands and now the wards would allow no ghosts outside of the Portrait Hall.

Thus, she had known It was no ghost, that day when she had seen It in the nursery. Nevertheless, after failing with the wards, she had begun enchanting a curse as she weaved her wand in the air, but then It had spoken as it raised its hands in a surrendering manner, a soft smile on its face.

"I mean no harm, to you or your family," It had said with a thick Spanish accent, its eerie eyes crinkling with amusement. "If I had the slightest intention of it, the wards of this manor would not only prevent it but also immediately expel me out."

With her heart still beating hard with anxiousness and apprehension, Narcissa had nonetheless regained her coolness, her eyes then narrowing slightly as she shot him a piercing, gauging gaze as she considered his statement, her wand still aimed at It.

It took her seconds to deem that It was right; even though the wards couldn't take a hold of It at present, she knew that the moment It made any threatening moves, the wards would act, no matter what It was or if It seemingly didn't have any corporeal solidity.

"Who are you?" she had then demanded in a sharp tone of voice.

"You can call me Santi, if you wish," It had said, a gentle smile growing on its face.

Given that unedifying answer which elucidated nothing to her, her voice had grown hard as she had asked bluntly, her gaze sweeping along his figure, "What are you – a magical creature of some kind?"

A dark eyebrow quirked upwards, It's smile turning into a lopsided grin as he let out a short, rumbling bout of amused laughter. "A creature? No, no." Then It had shot her a glance, and added calmly, "I'm not a wizard either, if you were wondering." It shrugged its shoulders. "I'm simply me."

"Yes, of course, that clears everything up," Narcissa had interjected tartly and poignantly. "Why are you here? What do you want-"

"Here?" It had interrupted, looking vastly amused as it gazed around the surroundings. "But I'm not here. I'm nowhere." It shot her a grin, adding loftily, "Or I should better say, I'm anywhere, anywhen. As for my purpose…" It's eerie eyes gazed back at Antares in his cradle and continued quietly, "I'm here to see him. I'll be paying him visits frequently."

And before Narcissa could open her mouth to express just what she thought of that, It had vanished with a cheerful wave of its hand.

In the three weeks that had followed she had simply continued thinking of him as It, or The Thing, or 'Santi', as he had said, if she felt generous, which had only happened twice. Indeed, she only felt vexation and impotence regarding the matter, and thus anger and wariness.

And now there he was, before her for the third time, and Narcissa had every intention of obtaining answers.

Evidently, The Thing meant no harm or the wards wouldn't allow him passage, but It could still come and go as it pleased and It was still hovering near her baby son's cradle, staring with an odd expression on his translucent face at a fidgety Antares who was waving his tiny hands in the air, pouting and demandingly gurgling, wanting to be picked up.

Yet, Narcissa didn't move, she wanted to have her hands and arms free, just in case, and she simply stared at 'Santi', waiting. Most of times, people felt compelled to fill tense silences and would inevitably speak of anything and thus reveal information. It was a lesson taught to her long ago by her father.

She remembered him with faint fondness, unlike what she had felt for her mother. Indeed, she had been her father's favorite.

Cygnus Black had never bestowed upon her a touch of affection or an outward and evident show of attachment, but he had nonetheless conveyed it in his characteristical manner, by allowing her to spend time with him in the man's study, in companionable silence as they both read books of their respective interests.

In those few years when she had been a child, he had slowly and quietly imparted his lessons to her; the value of never speaking your mind, being reserved to the utmost, of keeping all thoughts to yourself and thread carefully in all conversations, the worthiness and efficiency of being -above all things- patient, stoic, subtle, and coolly levelheaded, of not giving way to brash impulses and tempestuous displays, as her mother Druella had constantly done, which Bellatrix had inherited and even Andromeda to a lesser degree.

Indeed, the only occasions Narcissa had allowed herself to act impulsively had been the few times she had deemed that a situation required swift and immediate action, after ascertaining that her spontaneous decision of how to react was the best resort. And right then, it was not the case.

As she had expected, Santi didn't take long in gazing up at her with those eerie eyes of his, as he uttered pleasantly, "I have a favor to ask of you. I need you to memorize a lullaby and you will need to sing it to Antares as often as you can during the next months."

Narcissa almost gaped at him in sheer flabbergasted incredulity. Of course, she didn't do anything so crass and simply stared back at him, conveying exactly how ridiculous and nonsensical she found the request.

But It didn't give her a chance to voice her opinion, as he swiftly sang in a soft, melodic tone, "Once upon a time, there was a good little wolf, mistreated by all the lambs. Once upon a time, there was a bad black unicorn, a little ugly fairy, and a shy dragon. There was also once, an evil prince, a beautiful witch, and an honest pirate. There were all these things, once upon a time, when I dreamed of a world turned upside down."

At first, Narcissa had almost burst into derisive laughter, quite thinking The Thing had taken leave of his senses and that perhaps it was all some ridiculous prank.

Indeed, for all his strange and eerie appearance, he could just be a wizard with a glamour making him translucent and glow in golden light, and perhaps he used some spell to be able to pass through walls and doors, or any such thing.

However, as the lullaby progressed she felt the effect of it; a wave of magic settling around the room, making Antares –who had thus far been wailing softly at the lack of attention– abruptly yawn, instantly falling asleep with a placid expression on his tiny face.

The Black family didn't have such spells, but she had heard about it. The younger the child, the better it worked.

"Which House is it from?" she asked, the first thing that abruptly came to mind, too startled by the bizarre request and the lullaby that had followed.

Santi shot her a lopsided smile. "The Prince's." Then he gazed at her with a most serious and grave expression on his handsome face, and demanded, "Will you remember it or should I sing it again?"

"I am able to remember," she replied sharply, all sense of the strangeness of the situation fading away to give way to vexation and impatience. "If not, I can use a pensieve to revisit the memory of it." She skewered him with her clear blue eyes and demanded curtly, "May I know why I should sing a Prince's lullaby to my son, of all nonsensical things?"

"It's quite simple," retorted Santi in a gentle tone of voice. "A bridge must be formed between now and then. A connection is required. They believed they had it all figured out," he added in an incisive mutter, "and they were right regarding how it worked, in the whole. But you see, they didn't see the details. They didn't realize how the direct application of the substance would affect him - they had no way of knowing."

He gestured a translucent hand towards the cradle. "Now they believe that the spell they used during his birth caused Antares to have a blank soul, wiped clean from his past memories, just as they wanted, but it is not true. A soul yanked out so savagely from its body, by an unnatural and violent death as he experienced, will always remember. The recollections will come back to him suddenly, with unimaginable force, and the way he was killed, the sheer cruelty of it, the pain and suffering, will most likely rip him apart. Not to mention the recollections of the decades his soul spent trapped in the device – the locket. Antares will be too young to understand the influx of those memories - it will most likely happen soon, when he's a baby, you see. What mind of a baby would be able to withstand such without insanity soon following?"

Narcissa speechlessly stared at him, without having made sense out of any of it. She simply felt that the absurdity and nonsense of it had reached a new, insupportable level.

She was already prepared to whip out her wand again and start casting all curses that came to mind to drive him away; to call out for the house-elves if required, and even Lucius and the Dark Lord if it came to that.

However, The Thing kept talking, as if he didn't realize or care that he was under any threat from her, "The only way to help him is to ease him into it. They made you start wearing the locket the day after you conceived Antares and modified it so that filaments of his soul would slowly filter into the life you carried, creating the anchor between the timelines in the origin of the change, since he is the catalyst. The full transfer of his soul and the swap was completed when you gave birth to him. They were right to do the transfer of his soul slowly - at least they realized how it should be done so that it wouldn't be as traumatic for his soul, in this instance."

Santi held up a translucent hand the moment Narcissa attempted to get a word out, and he continued in his thick Spanish accent, "At present, it's nearly ten months after the day of origin, the day he was also conceived, and it has been three weeks since his birth, and still, his soul isn't fully anchored in his body – I can feel it. Just as he unwittingly feels that he is in a strange body, where he doesn't naturally belong. And since he, in himself, is the anchor and since the original timeline no longer exists, if his soul isn't anchored, Time will revert back to its original path by inertia. And yet that path no longer exists. We would be plunged into nothingness. So you see, it's not only for his sake but for the sake of all."

He shot her a wide, gentle grin, as he added, "He simply needs something he will instinctually recognize from his past. The simplest thing is the lullaby, which has always soothed him. The very familiarity of it will help him make the transition more smoothly and will finish rooting his soul in his new body. And once it happens, his past memories won't savagely flood into his mind; they will come to him slowly, throughout many years, and thus his sanity will not suffer for it."

Narcissa had, by now, her wand limply dangling from her upheld hand. The moment she realized it, she gripped it tightly and stowed it away. Then she gazed back at him and the first thought that came to her mind was regarding the Prince lullaby.

The only Prince alive at present was Severus Snape, and for a moment she thought it all meant that the dour Potions Master and Hogwarts' Headmaster had been covertly sneaking into Antares' nursery to sing to him the lullaby of the Princes, for how else would it be familiar to her baby?

A frenzied laughter almost escaped her lips, finding it ridiculously funny at the same time that she felt she was sinking into a chasm.

In the next second, she brutally chided herself and made an effort to regain her levelheadedness. She was purposely misunderstanding things, not wanting to really analyze and attempt to make sense of what she had been told. But why should she believe such outlandish things?

"You speak to me about my son's past, implying it was decades ago, that the body he has now is a new one, that he was killed in the past, his soul trapped for years upon years in the locket I later wore, of his horrible death, of 'they' who did it all, and you don't explain whom you are referring to, and of timelines, thus implying a time-travelling which isn't possible," she said quietly, gazing at some point in the wall across from her. Then she snapped her gaze back to him and added sharply, "And yet we are speaking of a newborn baby, a baby I gave birth to merely three weeks ago, and thus, not a being that had any other past but that of these past three weeks."

Santi skewered her with his eerie, milky white eyes, to then deeply frown at her. "Are you being purposely dense or are you really dim-witted and unable to comprehend?"

Instantly, Narcissa's usually cool temper flared at that. She squashed it down in the next second, remembering her father's teachings like a mantra; levelheadedness, calmness, patience, be stoic and unflappable, take all the time required to analyze your thoughts before deciding what to say.

She trailed her gaze around the vast nursery, basking in the depictions on the walls she had commissioned an artist to paint; it displayed an enchanted forest, with clouds placidly rolling by, as if gently pushed by a soft breeze, trees with rich foliage which sparkled with sunlight, the glow of tiny fairies fluttering from one wall to the other, squirrels meandering along branches, and beautiful unicorns and centaurs trotting through the trees, weaving in and out of sight.

It served its purpose, soothing her, helping her regain her composure and get a grip on herself, allowing her to calmly make a choice.

"I apologize," she said coolly, turning to gaze back at him. "I am indeed able to piece together the bits of information I posses. But first…" She then flicked her wand at one of the rocking chairs at one corner of the room and muttered a spell, transforming it into two plush armchairs which skidded to be placed behind each of them. "Would you be so kind as to take a seat? Make yourself comfortable, if you please."

Santi shot her a surprised look, and then warmly smiled as he flopped down on his chair, clearly believing they had reached a mutual understanding or even an alliance of sorts.

Young Narcissa had to suppress a scoff at The Thing's delusions. She simply wanted to extract from him as much information as possible, and her main objective was to garner just how much It was willing to do for her – or better said, for Antares.

That Santi was interested in her son there was no doubt about, but did he care for her child? Had he formed an attachment, and if so, what was he prepared to do for Antares' wellbeing? If The Thing truly cared, she could easily use that to her and her son's advantage. Could she really be able to acquire for her son someone who could be useful to Antares from so early on in his life?

She would glean that from The Thing afterwards, at present she had another task.

Narcissa elegantly sat down on her chair and folded her pale hands on her lap, briefly glancing at Santi, not escaping her notice that The Thing was able to sit down instead of going through the cushion of the seat.

One of her motives for having offered him a seat -besides instilling a more relaxed ambiance between them that would be conducive to a greater flow of information from him to her- had been precisely that of elucidating if he could, indeed, sit down. She had her answer; The Thing could control his solidity. She filed away that little tidbit of information in case it could be of future use or importance.

Finally, she closed her eyes, not caring what The Thing would think of her by that action, or that she was presenting a vulnerability that could be exploited. Regarding the physical danger to herself, the wards would protect her, indubitably, and that was enough.

She already knew what two experiences were related to what Santi had divulged.

The most recent one was, of course, that of when she had given birth to Antares. But she would leave that for second, not wanting to relive it right then.

The other one pertained to when she had eavesdropped on Abraxas' and Lucius' conversation, finally some of the things she had overheard making sense, and thus allowing her to-

"You know, you must be aware of who 'they' are. They were there when you had Antares and I was observing what they did. It was then when you saw me for the first time, remember? And I know you didn't forget what they did, as they believe. That Potions Master who was there covertly swapped the flasks and I heard what he whispered to you. He gave you a potion to remember, not to wipe your memory."

Narcissa's eyes flung open and she shot The Thing a look, with the precise modicum of irritation to convey that she demanded his immediate silence.

"Alright, alright," said Santi sheepishly, raising his palms, letting out a soft chuckle she would have found charming in another situation and if The Thing was not a Thing. "I'll clamp my mouth shut and let you concentrate and think about whatever you need to muse about."

She didn't bother to reply and closed her eyes once more. Yes, Abraxas' and Lucius' conversation behind closed doors, to which she hadn't been invited to participate, of course, as had happened once a week in the first months after the day of the Change – when she had found herself with two sets of memories.

She had been four months pregnant with Antares, moody, tetchy and quite fed up that Lucius was being so tight-lipped regarding what he discussed with his father – for her own good, her husband had said and still did.

With that, it had become clear to her just how Lucius regarded her. After several years of marriage during which she had proven her unparalleled social skills and the ease and dexterity she had with political maneuverings in order to obtain for the Malfoy name and prestige greater status and clout, her husband still didn't view her as his equal.

Narcissa's father had warned her about it; had point blank told her what pureblood wizards wanted and expected in a wife.

"A pureblood girl who has the fortune of being as sharp as I believe you are, must never show it openly. Let your husband underestimate you, and just use your wile for when there's a worthy prize you want to obtain. You'll catch him unawares and unprepared, and you will win. Then revert back to your façade and grant him the time to forget that his wife bested him. After he becomes comfortable and reassured in his own superiority and there's another prize to claim, strike again."

Cygnus Black had lifted a finger, piercing her with his grey eyes. "And if someday you wish and feel prepared to assume the responsibility to be a support to your husband, someone he can ask advice from and lean on, then you must ease him into it, slowly, patiently and, above all, with subtlety. In such a way that he will not remember the time when he didn't think you his match, making him believe he purposely chose a clever wife because he was strong and man enough to deal with it. Allow him to think the credit is his. We have large egos, Cissy, and the one thing we cannot bear is a wife who we feel threatened by. Just look at your mother, she's unbearable. Druella has never known how to play me. She has always been pushy, over-opinionated and demanding, and thus, I have never listened to her."

Indeed, after having Draco she had implemented that latter tactic. But that day it had become evident to her that easing Lucius into the notion that she was his intellectual equal, and his superior in astuteness in several aspects, would take longer than she had anticipated.

Nevertheless, Narcissa had taken matters into her own hands, following her impulses since she had deemed that the situation required some brashness from her part. She had had already ordered five house-elves to iron their fingers and ears just to vent some of her frustrations, and spying on Lucius would infinitely be more rewarding than that, she had thought.

When she had seen Abraxas and Lucius enter one of the studies, she had instantly remembered one of the secret passages that ran behind one of the room's walls. She had slipped inside the passage, conjured a plushy armchair to comfortably sit on, and proceeded to eavesdrop on their muffled conversation.

Abraxas had been talking about a 'portal' which had allowed the wizard the chance to meet with Lucius. Indeed, at the time she had realized what occasion was being spoken of.

It had been in her Old Past, in their seventh year at Hogwarts, when they were already of age and had been engaged for some months. It was known that Abraxas had contracted dragon pox and his days were numbered, Lucius had been fretful and quite unbearable since he wanted to leave Hogwarts and spend as much time as possible in Malfoy Manor with his progenitor. His stern father wouldn't let him miss school, though, and would only allow Lucius back home the very day he laid on his deathbed ready to draw his last breath.

It had indeed surprised her when Lucius had received an owl from his father, asking to meet him in Hogsmeade. Everyone knew that dragon pox at such an age left the infirm too weak to move and even less go anywhere. Yet the letter had clearly conveyed that Abraxas was out and about, waiting to meet his son.

Later, Lucius had returned to Hogwarts with a trunk in tow, not wanting to give any explanations. And just two days after, Abraxas had died.

Narcissa much later discovered that that trunk had contained Abraxas Malfoy's grimoire and the pensieve containing the wizard's memories; a pensieve with wards that would drop many years later on the day Lord Voldemort went to kill the Potters, also the day of the Change, and when she and Lucius had conceived Antares.

The whole affair had puzzled her, and when she had overheard the conversation, she hadn't had an inkling regarding what a 'portal' could be referring to.

Now, matching clues and information, understanding started to dawn on her.

Indeed, if she simply got rid of her former firm notion and accepted that a timeline-altering time-travelling was possible, premise that Santi evidently wanted her to believe, then she knew exactly what a portal could be. It had to be a bridge between two timelines, obviously allowing a wizard to pass through for a certain amount of hours.

It could only mean that the Abraxas who had met Lucius and given him the trunk wasn't the Abraxas dying from dragon pox.

And hadn't the Grey Wizard visited Lord Voldemort several times, during the months before the Dark Lord had gone to kill the Potters? And she knew for a fact that the Grey Wizard couldn't have been freely strutting around.

There had been two of them as well in the same Past, in the Old Past.

That explained how Abraxas had managed to create a 'portal'. Of course that Lucius' father hadn't been the one to discover how to do it. But from Lord Slytherin or the Grey Wizard, yes, she did believe they were powerful and capable enough to manage such an unprecedented accomplishment.

From that, she could infer that there had been two Dark Lords, each in their respective timelines, Lord Voldemort truly dying in the Potter's home and Lord Slytherin killing them as well but without being killed himself. And then the timelines had met – now Lucius' mutterings from that day, speaking of lines and origin, started to make sense.

That day the timelines had met, the new set of memories of what she would call her New Past had flooded into her mind, and Lord Slytherin had returned after killing the Potters. There had been no two sets of memories being produced after that. No, she had instead continued living the life she had from her New Past. As Santi had said, after the point of origin, the day of the Change, the original timeline didn't continue existing.

Narcissa shook her head, feeling dazed by the entangled loops her thoughts started to form the more she thought of it. Regardless, ultimately, it didn't matter to her.

There was one Dark Lord now, one Grey Wizard and one Abraxas. Furthermore, for the whole world except a very few, there was only one Past. Her Old Past meant nothing, just residue, remnants of a timeline which was no more.

However, if she hadn't had two sets of memories she would have never arrived to such conclusions, the possibility would have never even entered her mind. Just what had been Abraxas' purpose by making Lucius do that ritual on them? And it was risky for the Dark Lord to have allowed such thing; to have people who could remember both pasts. It didn't make sense-

Narcissa snapped her eyes open and pierced The Thing with her gaze. "I was from the original timeline, was I not?"

Santi simply nodded, and Narcissa remembered those two Death Eaters who had disappeared, along with others – those who had existed in the Old Past and no longer did in the New Past, and the reverse, those who now did.

She bore her eyes into The Thing's, and murmured as the realization slowly unfolded in her mind, "All of we who underwent the ritual are from the original timeline and were spared the risk of ceasing to exist the day of the Change – the origin, as you call it. Abraxas ensured his family would survive, and those families allied to the Malfoys."

"Yes," said Santi nonchalantly. "There was always a slight risk. But you were spared, as you say, and you and your counterpart were 'merged', to call it something-"

"Which is why I have two sets of memories," whispered Narcissa to herself. "Yet I also remain myself, living the life I had from the New Past."

"Since that day, you are living in the timeline which was created, the only timeline which now exists."

Narcissa nodded in understanding and then demanded curtly, "Who created it? Who time-travelled? The Dark Lord?"

"You already know the answer to that if you bother to think about it," replied Santi tersely. "You are afraid to arrive to the right conclusion, to realize who your son is."

Narcissa instantly became riled up and she hissed out, "Do not dare speak to me in that condescending manner-"

"Enough is enough, Mrs. Malfoy," interrupted her The Thing, looking vexed and impatient. "It's time to face the music. Tell me whom I was referring to by 'they'. Remember what happened that day."

Narcissa nearly sprung up to her feet to demand that The Thing immediately left her home. Restraining herself from the impulse, she took a sharp intake of breath. "Very well."

The day she had given birth to Antares she had known beforehand that no healers would be allowed; only Hetty, the old house-elf who had been a nursemaid and midwife during many Malfoy generations, and Severus Snape in his quality as a Potions Master to administer the pertinent potions to her, to ease the procedure. She hadn't been at all happy about it, yet what she hadn't expected was for Lord Slytherin and the Grey Wizard to be present as well. But she had swallowed her modesty and protests and had planned to bear it impassively.

Everything had gone smoothly, with Hetty and Severus down there, until with a last push, Antares had started to emerge from her. Then it had all seemed to distort into a hellish nightmare.

The moment half of her baby's body was already out, the Grey Wizard had stepped forward, raising both hands; in one, his wand, on the other, the ring he always wore. But in that occasion, as he enchanted something in a language she didn't recognize, the dull black stone of the ring had shone with something from within; some sort of small design made of thin silver lines, a triangle with some other geometrical figures inside.

Narcissa hadn't been able to take a good look and it hadn't seemed familiar. Moreover, she had been rather preoccupied when some sort of magical link had formed between the wizard's wand and ring. Then, the man's hood had dropped and she had shrieked.

She had seen a horribly disfigured face, as if some sort of wild animal had repeatedly slashed at it with its claws, with a gruesomely empty left eye socket. She had been further terrified when she had recognized the man's right eye.

In all textbooks of modern wizarding history, in both Old and New Past, along with a picture of a handsome blond man, there had always been the description of the wizard's unique eyes. Gellert Grindelwald was always said to have remarkable hawk-like eyes.

It had been then when she had known that Grindelwald hadn't simply disappeared in 1945 of the New Past, presumed by everyone to be dead. She had further understood why, in the New Past, the Dark Lord's mark wasn't that of the skull and snake, like in the Old, but that of a serpent coiling around a hawk.

It had been then when she had comprehended that one Dark Lord had taught the other, mentor and pupil, and that Abraxas and Lord Slytherin hadn't been alone during all those years in which they hadn't been in England.

All of those realizations struck her in the blink of an eye. And in the next second, something had sprouted from the link between Grindelwald's ring and wand, the wizard directing it: enormous claw-like black fingers which had plunged into the locket she had been wearing.

They pulled what had been within, something that wailed and screamed until it was floating a feet above her, encompassed in some kind of magical cage: a ghostly figure, a boy, a teen it seemed to her, yet his form was frayed, as if rats had been savagely gnawing him.

She now knew why. Filaments of soul had been leaking from the locket to the life she carried during those months of her pregnancy, Santi had said. But he had been mistaken in one thing. It hadn't spared the soul trauma.

Those screams and wails she had thought she heard coming from the locket, those nights she awoke, thinking she had imagined it, they weren't just screams for release, there were of pain as well.

Furthermore, that figure, then, had had a wide, uneven hole in his left side, as if something had long ago been ripped from it.

It had screamed and flailed, and Narcissa hadn't been able to understand. The boy had seemed to switch from German to English and back, shouting frantically, desperately or enraged at turns, at Grindelwald and Lord Slytherin. She had heard both of them saying things in return, attempting to soothe him, she presumed, but she wasn't certain.

Between the pain, the confusion, the shock, and horror, Narcissa had been in no condition to grasp everything.

Lord Slytherin had then stepped up, carrying a bejeweled goblet of some kind in his hands, weaving his own wand in the air, and something in the goblet, a small frayed figure, had sprouted out.

It was grey and torn, with no discernable shape, but then it had flown towards the ghostly figure of the boy, still entrapped in the magical cage-like prison. And it had stuck to him, like a leech, at the left side of the boy, where the hole had been.

Narcissa had been in hysterics by then, her own screams demanding an explanation ignored. Her shrieks had worsen when the black, claw-like fingers which emanated from Grindelwald's ring and wand had struck her newborn baby, who by then was in Severus' arms.

They pulled out something so small and so bright; something which was snuffed out in the next moment, inside the black fingers that had formed a tight fist around it. All that was left behind were floating swirls.

She had screamed in horror, terrified and desperate. She had sprung, or attempted to, from her bed, feeling her own magic about to lash out, to protect, to stop what was being done.

"Severus, restrain her!" had commanded the Dark Lord.

In the next instant, she had found herself flat on her bed without able to move or speak, with her magic painfully and forcibly restrained by whatever spell had been cast.

She had observed with eyes that leaked tears of impotence, and rage, and terror, how the ghostly figure of the boy was released and then grabbed by those black hands which pulled him towards the floating swirls. How the swirls gently and softly became attached to him, completing him, making him no longer look frayed and gnawed.

They were back where they belonged, she knew now. And then, the boyish ghostly figure which had never stopped attempting to get free and had never stopped shouting and screaming with heart-wrenching suffering, had been plunged into her baby.

There was nothing but near silence after that, just the soft wail of Antares.

"Give her the potion."

As the Dark Lord and the Grey Wizard started to quietly talk between them, with Hetty now carrying and taking care of Antares, Severus had leaned over her bedside with a flask in hand.

Her vision had been blurry, but indeed, as Santi had said, there had been a switch. So quickly did Severus covertly pluck another flask from his robes, leaning forward over her as he whispered into her ear, "It's important you remember."

And he had feed her that potion and stowed away the other.

Narcissa snapped out of the recollection with her heart still pounding hard in her chest. She took a deep intake of breath to compose herself, and slowly glanced at Santi.

"Whose soul was it? Who was my son in the past?"

The Thing shot her a gauging gaze with those eerie eyes of his, and then intoned calmly, "You do consider him your son, then? Even though you know-"

"That Slytherin and Grindelwald killed the soul Antares was conceived with and swapped it for another?" she interjected coolly, arching a delicate eyebrow at him. "He's still my son. And those bits of soul, those swirls, were from the soul in the locket. They were part of Antares nearly from the start." She slightly shook her head, and added quietly, "He's my son. A Black through and through."

"I'm glad you think so. I wasn't sure if you would," said Santi, shooting her a pleased, warm smile.

"Who was he?" demanded Narcissa curtly, spearing him with her eyes.

"He was the one who was made to time-travel in the day of the origin, a few hours before you conceived Antares." At Narcissa's puzzled expression, The Thing added quietly, "Mrs. Malfoy, you already know, you must simply admit it to yourself. What did both Dark Lords do that day? Lord Voldemort and Lord Slytherin had different reasons for it, but they killed them all the same, and their baby-"

"The Potters," she choked out faintly.

In the next second she had sprung to her feet, her chair tumbling to a side, and she quickly reached the large windows of the nursery, displaying the lovely view of one of Malfoy Manor's most gorgeous gardens with a charming pond in their midst.

Turning her face away, so that her expression wouldn't be seen by The Thing, she fisted her hands into the silky material of her dress, her knuckles turning white with the tightness of her grip. Crushing devastation, horror, and revulsion were engulfing her.

Only one thing came out of her paling lips, "He's the mudblood's spawn."

A noise reached her ears, sounding angered and irritated, and Narcissa swiftly swiveled around to stare at The Thing. It was quite interesting, she thought detachedly, to see an expression of rage in a face that was translucent and glowed in golden sparks.

"You just said he was a Black through and through," said Santi thunderously, skewering her with those eerie, milky white eyes of his. "And what is a pureblood by definition-"

"Do not presume to lecture me-"

"- only blood matters to your kind. The soul has nothing to do with being a pureblood. Two seconds ago you didn't care about the soul-issue," continued The Thing sternly. "His blood hasn't changed. And who conceived him? What is he?"

"He's a Black and a Malfoy, you overbearing creature," Narcissa snapped acidly, her eyes narrowed with anger and irritation of her own. "Yes, I do see your point."

Santi pierced her with his gaze and said curtly, "Tell me now if you want him or not. I don't want to come back here to see he's been dumped in a muggle orphanage or something of the sort. I rather take him myself and place him with some other family-"

"Muggle orphanage?" she hissed out, swiftly moving to stand by the cradle. "I would never do something so despicable." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "And you will not be taking him anywhere at all."

The Thing paused, narrowing his own eyes, and then demanded, "Is he your son or not?"

Narcissa's temper flared, but she simply replied tersely, "Yes."

Santi gauged her again. "Do you think Antares would be a 'Black through and through', as you say, if it wasn't for the soul he has now? That he would be a Metamorphagi since birth, already able to do shifts at one-month of age, or that he would be as powerful as he is now? Do you think the Dark Lord would have bothered transferring some of his dark magic to him if he wasn't Harry Potter? Or that he would have enabled you to conceive a second son if it wasn't for that as well?"

"I already said I understood," interjected Narcissa sharply. Her eyes slightly narrowed again, but now in interest. "Why?"

Santi stared at her. "Why what?"

"Why," said Narcissa tartly, "did the Dark Lord put Harry Potter's soul in Antares, and why give him his magic? Why does Harry Potter matter to the Dark Lord? And why are you interested in him as well?"

"I will only answer the latter, since you have no need to know the answers to the first questions," replied The Thing loftily. He sighed and then continued, "It took me a while to find him in the past. You see, he and I are two of a kind - the only ones to have ever existed, as far as I know. You can think of me as his guardian of sorts-"

"Guardian?" she said, her voice laced with snide, addressing the first of many questions which had popped in her mind. "You certainly did not protect him from-"

The Thing raised a hand to halt her. "I will only take action if I have absolutely no other choice. And I hope it will never come to that." He shot her a glance and then said nonchalantly, "Speaking of which, have you kept the glass sphere?"

Narcissa had her wand directly aimed at him in the very next second, as she hissed out, "You work for Dumbledore."

Indeed, two weeks ago she had found a letter inside one of the drawers of her dressing table, penned and signed by Albus Dumbledore, and with a plain, small glass sphere inside the envelope – a portkey.

She hadn't failed to notice that she had found it the same day Severus Snape had paid a visit to leave some potions with her, for her recovery after giving birth.

Severus wasn't being very covert or subtle.

There had always been suspicions and rumors regarding the wizard's true allegiances. That the wizard had not given her the potion requested by Lord Slytherin to make her forget had also made her question Severus' loyalties. And now… well, it was no secret that the wizard had been infatuated with Lily Evans.

Had Severus helped her for Antares' sake? Did he know her son possessed the soul of Harry Potter and thus, due to his feelings for Lily Potter, felt obliged to protect Antares?

She didn't know, but she hadn't been pleased to find a letter from the old coot. Narcissa still didn't know why she hadn't shown it to Lucius.

"I'm no one's partisan. If anything, I'm on his side," said The Thing as he gestured towards the cradle. "I simply wish to suggest that you keep the portkey. You just might need to use it in the future." He speared her with an intense gaze, and added quietly, "Slytherin and Grindelwald aren't through with him. They will want to use Antares again."

Narcissa opened her mouth to speak, a barrage of questions swirling in her mind, but Santi snapped his head around and said urgently, "He's coming." He shot her a glance and added quickly, "Remember, sing the lullaby to Antares every day during the next three months. That should do the trick."

And with that, he simply disappeared, as if he had never been there in the first place.

"You are being greatly missed by your guests, Narcissa," said a smooth voice.

She almost tripped on the trail of her own dress when she jerkily turned around, startled. But she instantly dropped her gaze, masking the motion as a show of deference and awe, just so that she wouldn't meet Lord Slytherin's gaze.

She had much to conceal now and she had no doubt that she would be instantly killed for knowing what she did. It was never prudent to know much of the affairs of a Dark Lord. She would need to master Occlumency as soon as possible.

From the corner of her eyes she saw that Abraxas and the Grey Wizard had accompanied the man, and she turned her gaze towards Abraxas, the safer destination.

"I apologize, My Lord," she intoned quietly. "Antares was quite restless and it took me some time to get him to sleep."

"Such a commendable mother…" murmured the Dark Lord, as he halted before Antares' cradle.

When she saw the wizard leaning forward to trail a finger along Antares' ruddy cheek, she had the abrupt impulse to savagely slap the digit away. Instead, Narcissa stood rooted in her place, with all the impassiveness and elegance in the world.

The Dark Lord clucked his tongue, in disappointment it would seem. Perhaps he had been expecting Antares to wake up. Slight chance of that, not when the baby was surely still under the effects of the lullaby.

"I will expect you to return to the gathering shortly," was all the Dark Lord said as he swept out of the room, taking the two others with him.

Narcissa allowed an exhalation of breath to escape from her lips and then stood uncertainly by the cradle's side. In the next moment she made up her mind and gently picked up a snoozing Antares, taking a seat on a rocking chair at one corner of the room, which offered her the view of the gardens.

Antares' eyes slightly parted open, drowsily, surely due to having been moved around. And Narcissa gazed down at them, taking notice of their color. She knew now like whose eyes they were: the mudblood's, Lily Potter's.

She would have to learn how to love that shade of green again.

And with that thought, she started to softly sing the lullaby.