"Do you think this one will blow up, too?" Voldemort asked excitedly as Barty started the final step of their first attempt to create a Philosopher's Stone.
"I have no idea!" He replied with equal enthusiasm. "Only one way to find out! Take cover!" He hunkered down behind the table they had turned over to use as a barrier, counting the seconds on his fingers until…
BOOOOM!
"Well, that's a yes to the explosion." Voldemort observed as she healed the damage to her eardrums.
Barty shrugged as he did likewise. "Explosions are usually the final step to any alchemical crystallisation process. The real question is if it gave us the result we want…"
She stood up and examined the wreckage. Shattered glass was spread across the table where it had melted to the surface. In the centre of the scorch marks marring said table's surface sat a gorgeous crystal. The light within it burned like fire and crackled like lightning. It was absolutely beautiful and reeked of both danger and power.
It was no Philosopher's Stone — the white-violet colouration made that obvious, but it was still gorgeous beyond belief.
"Well, looks like we can cross Kurilla blood off the list of potential catalysts for the Philosopher's Stone. Still, it's beautiful…"
As Barty began to write down her observations, Voldemort grabbed a pair of tongs and picked it up. As she moved the stone closer to her body, she could feel its energy far more acutely. In fact…
"Barty, get ready, I'm about to try something."
Barty whirled around. "Dammit, Voldie, be-"
She pushed out a tendril of the magic and let it spark with the stone. The moment she did so, she could feel the energy and connect with the stone's essence. She pushed raw magic through the opened connection, which the stone seized. A thin, violet beam shot out of the stone with a high pitched screech and stopped the moment she cut off the connection.
"-careful. Um… did that stone just recreate Kurilla breath?"
"It seems so." Voldemort observed. "They do have an odd connection with energy, so I suppose it makes sense, in the weird form of sense that's unique to alchemy."
Unfortunately, any further study of the object was interrupted when the door opened and Pettigrew stuck his head in. "Um… My-My Lady? There are guests here to see you. Igor Karkaroff and a Miss… Rowle?"
"Rowle…" Voldemort mouthed. "Do we know a Rowle?" She discreetly asked Barty.
He shrugged. "One or two might have joined as cannon fodder? I never paid much attention to those outside the inner circle."
Well, that was entirely fair. Barty, for all of his incredible, incredible skill, was best kept off the front lines. He was a researcher at heart, and, when the situation demanded it, he was the best healer she had in her ranks — not someone she wanted to risk getting hurt in one of her battles against the Ministry or the Order. The only members of the inner circle who frequently interacted with the "cannon fodder" were field commanders like Bellatrix and Dolohov.
"I suppose I should go see them, then. You don't mind cleaning up, do you?"
Barty rolled his eyes. "I do mind, but I'll do it anyways. Go see what your minions want."
"You're the best, Barty!" She said as she left the room. Peter sort of… simpered behind her as she began walking to the meeting room.
"I don't suppose either of them said what they wanted?" She asked, trying to make small talk.
Peter let out a small whine before answering. "I couldn't claim to know, My Lady."
Voldemort resisted the urge to sigh. "You know, I've said it before and I'll say it again — you can just call me Voldemort, or even Voldie, if you prefer. Seriously, the only time you need to call me 'My Lady' is when you're in front of the recruits. Recruits which don't exist at the moment."
He just whimpered again. Spending twelve years as a rat had not been good for his mental health. He was a far cry from the intelligent and wary man who had approached her a decade and a half ago, seeking recruitment. He was probably in desperate need of a mind healer, but with Severus turned traitor, the only person skilled enough in legilimency to do so was herself. Voldemort was well enough aware of her own issues to not trust herself to put someone else's mind back to rights…
Damn, she really wished Rookwood was here right now. They were probably the foremost expert on the mind arts in the country and were her best bet if she wanted a mind healer.
And speaking of Rookwood, there was the man who sold them out. Voldemort Blinked into her throne, feeling a slight twinge of amusement when Karkaroff jumped at her sudden appearance. Rowle seemed unperturbed, as did the young girl who was standing behind her.
"I'm surprised you're showing your face around here at all, Igor." She said snarkily. "I figured that if you were enough of a coward to sell out your siblings-in-arms, then you were enough of a coward to go into hiding for as long as possible. What brings you to my doorstep so soon?"
He gulped, but remained calm. "My Lady, I have many regrets about selling out those I worked with, but…"
"Get to the point, whippersnapper!" Rowle said as she smacked his rear with her cane.
Igor looked sheepish. "Yes… You see, when I was arrested, I was in the middle of helping Miss Rowle here get out of the country, to a safe location on the continent. I had just confunded several muggles so we could take a non-magical ferry when I tripped some sort of magic alert. I barely managed to keep the aurors away from Miss Rowle, which was quite fortunate, both for her sake and the sake of her… ward."
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. Ward? She wasn't really sure what any of this had to do with her. "Are you going anywhere with this, Karkaroff?"
He looked sheepish, but nodded. "I needed to get out of auror custody and get to the continent so I could get their new identities sorted. I overheard the aurors debating using veritaserum during my trial and questioning, and I decided to offer a plea bargain while I still had the chance. Had I not, then, well…"
He stepped aside, gesturing for the girl behind Rowle to step forward. Voldemort took in the girl's appearance — she was young, maybe twelve or thirteen, with some sort of outlandish two-tone dye job on her hair. Voldemort tried to identify the girl, and it wasn't until she started really studying her face that she placed her.
"You're alive!?" Voldemort exclaimed.
The girl rolled her eyes in a typical expression of teenage exasperation. "Duh. I am standing right here, and I'm clearly not an inferius."
"I just assumed you were killed after Bellatrix was captured. She was never the best at planning contingencies, and there was no way that any of our opponents would let you live once they learned your identity."
She scoffed. "Great to see that you care so much. You just assumed I'd been killed and left it at that."
"In my defence, I was left without a body when it happened and most of my attention was focused on that conundrum. You'd have to ask your mother for details on how she was able to arrange all of this."
The girl glared even harder, which was actually an impressive feat. "You are my mother."
Voldemort resisted the urge to groan. "No, I mean your actual mother. The one who did all the… you know…" She waved her hand. "Karkaroff, has she been given The Talk, yet?"
The girl's face contorted in disgust. "Yes! Yes, I've had the freaking talk! I don't need to hear the details!"
"Well it's not like I've ever had sex." Voldemort pointed out. "There's no need to be grossed out. I just meant that I wasn't the one to actually give birth to you."
Delphini's face seemed torn between disgust and panic. "Please stop talking! Just… Please, stop! I don't want to know any details about the sex life of my sixty-something year old mother, including whether or not said sex life exists!"
"I think that I still only count as being in my fifties, actually." Voldemort mused. "I'm pretty sure that the ten years I was discorporated don't count."
"That's not the point!" She groaned.
"I'm just saying…"
"Fuck you, 'mum'." She said as she left the room, giving Voldemort a two fingered salute as she slammed the door behind her.
"Delphini has always been a bit moody, even at school." Karkaroff said, breaking the silence.
Voldemort shrugged. "She's just at that age. Besides, it's not like I have any room to criticise. I'm going to go run some errands. Make sure she doesn't burn the house down or anything."
Karkaroff paled. "Is that likely?"
Voldemort shrugged again. "I would have at her age, so you never know."
Harry sat in his room, flipping through the one book he owned on the first war with Voldemort. She said that her goals didn't involve blood purity, but nothing he was finding in the book would suggest that was true. On the other hand, she'd also mentioned that there was propaganda about her true motives, so maybe the book couldn't be trusted. But then, that was assuming that Voldemort was telling the truth, which was a whole other can of worms.
Harry shut the book and sighed. If he wanted to get to the bottom of this, he'd need to look at things objectively. He needed to get unbiased info and try to connect the dots from there.
He opened the book again and tried to only focus on the facts, not the interpretations done by the author.
It did seem that Voldemort never officially claimed to be in favour of blood purity, instead relying on other language in her speeches. One of her most common choices of phrasing was "cleansing the nation of its filth". While that could easily be ascribed as promoting blood purity, it wasn't phrasing that any blood purists had used before…
"Boy!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice interrupted his reading. "You've got a visitor!"
Harry sighed and put the book back. Maybe the Weasleys had finally come to take him away for the summer. It was a bit early in the summer for that, but he could always be hopeful…
He began walking down the steps and froze when he saw Voldemort making casual small talk with Aunt Petunia.
Right, he'd almost forgotten that he'd gone insane. Every time he felt like reality was starting to assert itself, Voldemort would come along and do something ridiculous, like getting along with Aunt Petunia.
Voldemort's gaze drifted over to where Harry was standing, and she immediately broke out in a grin. "Hello, Harry! I'm sorry to stop by early today, but something's come up. Are you ready to go?"
Harry nodded dumbly.
"Lovely!" Voldemort turned her attention back to Aunt Petunia. "Is there a time you'd like him home by?"
Aunt Petunia put on her haughtiest face and sniffed. "I don't care when he gets back, so long as he doesn't make a ruckus when he does."
Voldemort nodded curtly. "Very well, then. Come along, Harry."
As soon as Petunia shut the door behind them, Voldemort let out a sigh. "Ye gods, she was unbearable. I'm so very sorry that you have to live with her — she almost makes Mrs. Cole look nice."
"Um…" Harry stammered, still trying to get his thoughts in order. "Why are you here?"
Voldemort glanced at him, appearing almost hesitant. He was wondering what she was thinking until she shattered his whole worldview once again with her next words.
"My daughter is alive."
"Huh?" Harry said, dumbstruck. Voldemort had a daughter!? How!? Why!? Then he had to resist the urge to gag as the implications caught up to him.
Voldemort rolled her eyes. "I don't even need to read your mind to know exactly what you're thinking, so let me nip that thought in the bud — I've never had sex."
Harry grimaced. "I don't think I needed to know that either."
She just rolled her eyes and muttered something about similarities before turning back to him. "Look, I'd love to chat more, but I'd rather not do it outside, if it's all the same to you. The weather's really hot today, and I'd rather not have to cast cooling charms every ten minutes to stay comfortable when an air conditioned building would be easier. Is there anywhere you'd like to go for lunch? My treat."
"Um…" Harry still felt like he was having trouble processing this. "Pizza?"
Voldemort looked pensive for a moment. "Well, the best pizzas are found abroad, but I can't exactly take you on an international trip. That said, there are some decent ones in the UK. I'll apparate the both of us."
"…Apparate?" He had never heard that term before.
"Ah, it's basically teleportation. It's also very unpleasant. I hope you've got a strong stomach."
Without waiting for him to reply, she grabbed his hand and the world fell away into a suffocating whirlwind. It felt like he was being squeezed from all sides while falling through an abyss before it suddenly relented and he found himself on solid ground again. He immediately had a coughing fit as his lungs tried to overcompensate for their sudden ability to breathe again.
"Not bad for a first go." Voldemort remarked. "Usually, people vomit after their first apparition."
Harry let out several more coughs before gasping. "Why is all travel in the magical world terrible?"
Voldemort's eyes lit up as she laughed. "Harry, it cannot possibly surprise you to learn that instantaneous travel is not without its downsides. For example, apparition works on the same principles that muggle scientists call 'wormholes'. Unfortunately, large wormholes require an impractical amount of energy to make, so apparition works by making a small wormhole and using magic to force ourselves through it."
Harry didn't know what most of that meant. His lack of comprehension must have been visible on his face, as Voldemort just sighed when he didn't say anything. "Come on, let's get lunch."
She led the way out of the alley in which they had arrived onto a small but somewhat busy street. She walked past several storefronts on the street, before stopping and pushing open the door to a small, brick building.
Thankfully, it wasn't very busy, so Voldemort's request for a table for two was met immediately.
Harry did his best to take in all of the items on the menu. While most of it was pizza, there were several other foods of Italian origin, like chicken parmesan and various pasta dishes.
To her credit, Voldemort only gave the menu a cursory scan before putting it down and scanning the restaurant. She must have been familiar enough with the menu that she already knew what she wanted to order.
Harry, on the other hand, was realising he had no idea what most of this stuff would taste like. Hogwarts didn't really serve Italian food, and the only time he'd had any outside of school was when the Dursleys occasionally had pasta or pizza and he was able to snatch some of the leftovers before Dudley inevitably got to them.
Eventually, he decided what he'd like to order and put his menu down. Unfortunately, Voldemort didn't seem keen on breaking the silence until they'd ordered, so they just sat there, awkwardly, until a waitress finally came over to take their orders.
"I'll have a personal pizza with mushrooms, olives, and anchovies." Voldemort said politely. "Harry?"
"Oh, um, I'll have the grilled chicken pizza."
The waitress nodded and took their menus, leaving them alone. Voldemort simply had an amused smile on her face as the waitress walked away.
"What's so funny?" He asked.
"She thought I was your mother."
Harry's brain froze. "…Why?"
She shrugged. "What else would she assume when she sees an older woman taking a teenage boy out to lunch? Especially since we have the same hair colour."
Harry decided to change the subject. "So, why did you come here today? You said your daughter is alive, but that doesn't really tell me why you came to me."
Voldemort sighed. "I suppose I should start from the beginning, then. After all, you were quite shocked, and appropriately so, that I have a daughter at all. To really explain how she came about, I need to tell you about Bellatrix."
The name was vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't place it without context.
"Bellatrix Black was… is one of the members of my inner circle. The inner circle consists of those exceptionally talented mages whom I trust enough to keep in the loop on my true agenda, not just the one I pretend to have for the public. Bellatrix was actually one of the first people I ever took on as an apprentice."
"Wait, Bellatrix Black? Like Sirius Black?"
Voldemort nodded. "Sirius and Bellatrix are first cousins. Anyway, Bellatrix was one of the first people I took in as an apprentice. There's a lot I could tell you about her, but most of it is her story to tell, not mine. Suffice to say that Bellatrix became a Death Eater at great personal cost for the sake of maintaining her cover. In exchange, I offered to do everything I could to free her from that cost, as well as offering her a favour of her choice, no strings attached.
Unfortunately, I was never able to free her from the cost of maintaining her cover, despite my best efforts. It was a highly stressful situation for her and was wearing her down a bit. In the final year of the war, she made use of that favour that I owed her.
She was pushing me quite a bit to have a child of my own, what with me being the last parselmouth in existence. I had no interest in continuing my bloodline, being immortal myself, and I had a special lack of interest in actually bearing a child. As such, when Bellatrix called in the favour I owed her, she demanded to have my child."
Harry's brow furrowed as he processed that. "But… you're both women?"
Voldemort pinched her brow. "Harry, it cannot possibly surprise you to learn that magic makes it possible for two women to have a child together."
"Er…" Truth be told, he'd never even thought about it, actually. He was familiar with the basic ideas of reproduction, if only because Aunt Petunia wanted to "prevent him from spreading his freakish genes without knowing better". Harry mostly tuned out when she went on a tangent about the freakishness of homosexuals.
"There is a blood magic ritual that allows two women to have a child together. The child will always be born female due to chromosomes, but it is possible. There's even a ritual that allows two men to have a child, but it requires a woman to act as a surrogate and results in a miscarriage twenty five percent of the time, as the human body doesn't handle being born with two Y chromosomes very well."
Harry was definitely starting to regret not keeping up with his muggle education like Hermione was. Then again, it wasn't like he could have predicted needing a background in muggle science to keep up with Voldemort's explanations of magical theory.
"After getting assurance that Bellatrix really did want this, I acquiesced and performed the ritual with her. I had several conditions before agreeing, such as making sure that the child was well cared for, both financially and emotionally, as well as affirming that Bellatrix would handle most of the actual parenting. I'm… really not much good with young children. Then, on September 29th, 1981, Delphini Bellatrix Riddle was born. Her existence was a secret, known only to myself and a select few members of the inner circle. When I learned that Bellatrix had been captured and sent to prison mere days after my defeat at your hands, I assumed that Delphini had been quietly killed by those who opposed me. Now, less than a month after regaining my body, I find out that she's alive after all."
"Why would they have killed her?" Harry asked. "I mean-"
"Hold that thought, our food is here."
Harry watched, somewhat impatiently, as the waitress placed their pizzas on the table. Voldemort wasted no time taking a slice out of hers and moaning into it as she took a bite. He attempted to take a bite out of his, but nearly burned his mouth as he did so.
"Oh, yeah, it just came out of the oven. Here, let me handle that for you." Voldemort said as she reached over and tapped the edge of his pizza with her finger. Harry was pleased to find that his pizza was now a cool enough temperature to eat while still being pleasantly warm.
"Okay, while your wandless cooling charm is impressive, I'd like to get back on topic. Why would your daughter have been killed? I mean, she was only an infant, after all."
Voldemort sighed. "Harry, I know that you're young, but you need to understand that this was a reality of war. While infanticide is not something to be taken lightly, there was no way they were going to let the child of a Dark Lady who terrorised the nation walk away with her life. They would have feared her becoming a figure for my followers to rally around and thus would have disposed of her before anyone else could learn of her existence. This sort of thing happens all the time in history, especially around violent revolutions. The Bolshevik Revolution and the French Revolution are two examples from history where bloodlines were ended for the sake of removing rallying points from the opposition."
"That's awful."
She shrugged. "War often is. I may be working towards the greater good of this nation, but there is still blood on my hands and horrible deeds in my past. I want to win this war so all of the things done in my name won't be for naught. The ends justify the means… or at least that's what I tell myself."
A morose silence settled over them as they continued to pick at their lunch. "…So, why am I here? You never got around to explaining that."
"Hm? Oh, I want your advice. How would I go about bonding with my daughter? While I may never have planned on being an especially significant part of her life, I'd prefer to do better than my own father did and try to be there for her now, especially since Bellatrix is currently in prison. Unfortunately, I have almost no experience with healthy parental relationships, either directly or indirectly, so I have no idea how I should approach this. You're just over a year older than Delphini and also grew up without your parents, so I wanted to ask you how you think I should handle this."
…Harry didn't even want to begin dissecting how his life became this fucked up. He almost missed it when his only concern was the next attempt on his life, as it was at least less bloody confusing. Crazy or not, he still would have expected Snape to start singing and dancing in the Great Hall before this happened. And even if she had ulterior motives for spending time with him, she was still being far nicer and more open with him than any other adult had been.
Voldemort continued talking while Harry had his miniature crisis. "I know that you don't know her personally, so I won't ask for specifics on how I should handle things. Although, learning her interests would probably be a good starting point…"
Nothing in Harry's life could have prepared him for having this conversation. "Why me? Of all the people to ask, why me?"
Voldemort tilted her head at him. "Well, it's not like I can talk to most people. I mean, I'm trying to keep the fact that I'm alive from as many people as possible. Sure, a few of my followers whom I trust have children around your age, but none of them are exactly in a position to give advice. Draco's parents both spoiled him horribly in their own ways. Theodore Nott and his father actively hate each other, and even then, Nott Sr. isn't even an inner circle Death Eater. Although, given their antagonistic relationship, Theodore could readily be inner circle material, even if he's not a prodigy…"
"The only person I can think of in my year who would be a prodigy is Hermione." Harry mused.
Voldemort just laughed at that. "Harry, your friend is an undoubtedly intelligent person, but an intellectual prodigy is completely different from a magical prodigy. I won't claim to know much about your peers, but from what I've seen and heard, the only prodigy in your year is you."
He froze, his food forgotten in front of him. "What?"
"Well, you see… Actually, we probably shouldn't get into this right now. I don't want to risk going on some long tangent about magical theory and never get around to the reason I actually asked you here. So, what should I do with Delphini?"
"Um… I don't know? I'm still not sure why you're asking me." Then again, he wasn't sure why Voldemort was so obsessed with him. It wasn't as though she was doing this with anyone else… right?
Voldemort sighed and folded her hands on the table. "Because you're the only one I can ask who knows what it's like to grow up without parents."
Harry didn't say anything.
"I…" she paused, hesitant to continue "I also grew up without my parents. I was stuck in some poor orphanage in the middle of London after my mother died in childbirth. While I could use my own experiences to try and relate to her, I also know that it's been a very long time since I was a child and that society has changed in the meantime. I wouldn't want to impose antiquated standards on her. Besides which, I am aware that my sense of empathy is… less than functional, and I like to consult with others in matters where my lack of ability is a hindrance."
That was a lot more self awareness than he'd expected Voldemort to have. Still… Harry tried to imagine what it would be like to be in Delphini's situation before answering. "I… guess I'd avoid trying to assert yourself as an authority figure in her life. She'll probably just resent you for it if you do that without getting to know her first. Beyond that… just try to get a feel for her interests, but give her space when she asks for it? I'm not really sure what else to tell you."
Voldemort nodded. "Okay, that's about what I thought, but it's always good to have a second opinion on such matters. …I'm really going to need to see a mind healer when the war is over. Ah, hang on, there's our server. Excuse me! Can we get the check, and a box for Harry's pizza?"
The server nodded and walked into the kitchen. Harry looked across the table to see that Voldemort had already eaten her entire pizza. That woman really had an appetite, didn't she?
Once the items in question had been dropped off at their table, Harry heard the distinctive sound of a wand being ejected from its holster. He reflexively tensed, but instead of attacking him, Voldemort created a notice-me-not charm around their table before sending Harry's pizza into the box with a flick of her wand. Another flick, and the box glowed blue for a second before fading back to white.
"A preservation charm." She explained, preempting his question. "It'll keep the food edible far more efficiently than any refrigerator could."
Harry nodded his thanks as Voldemort dispelled the field around their table, took out a plain black wallet, and left several notes on the table near the check while muttering about tips. Harry just sort of spaced out as he tried to process everything from today as Voldemort led him out of the building and apparated them back to Privet Drive. One coughing fit later, he walked back into Number 4, stashed his preserved pizza under his bed, and sat down to think.
Voldemort watched Harry go with a pleased smile. Sure, he was skeptical of her and constantly doubting his own sanity, but he was slowly warming up to her. It might end up taking most of the summer, but she was certain he would at least be willing to hear her out when it came time to tell him the truth.
She turned to a spot beside her. "You saw nothing. You never noticed Harry leave the house. I was never here."
And with that, she apparated away, releasing the invisible Alastor Moody from the Imperius curse she'd placed him under when she arrived earlier that day. Really, for a man so notoriously paranoid, it was astonishingly easy to get the drop on him.
Tonks apparated to the hallway outside her flat and stretched her back. Today was a surprisingly light day at the office, what with Moody being out on Order business. He normally had her doing drill after drill if it seemed like nothing was going to come up, which left her very little time to do her necessary paperwork. She briefly tuned into the wards she'd set up to make sure nothing had been tampered with before unlocking the door with her magical signature.
While Tonks was not a cursebreaker by trade, she was competent enough in the field to set up what she considered to be a very sophisticated ward scheme around her residence. Moody had declared her work "acceptable", which was the closest she'd get to being praised by the man.
She was confident enough in her work that she was taken by surprise when she found someone lounging across her couch chewing on some bubblegum. Bubblegum from her own stash, which was also warded.
It was Voldemort. Of course it was Voldemort.
At least Tonks was armed this time. She'd gone through a lot of trouble enchanting all of her clothing to make her even harder to disarm, and she'd gone through hours of lecturing by Ollivander before he relented and let her buy several more spare wands.
There was no way she'd be going down without a fight.
"Easy there, Nymphadora." Came a voice from the sofa. "I'm just here to chat, and decided to make myself comfortable while I waited."
"The last time we had a 'chat', you hit me with a confundus charm, kidnapped me, disarmed me, and did your damned best to intimidate me!"
Voldemort sat up and blew a bubble with the gum. "Come now, surely you can't blame me for wanting to make an impactful first impression, can you?"
Tonks just glared.
Voldemort just rolled her eyes, the arsehole. "Fine, then. I'm sorry for hitting you with a confundus charm, kidnapping you, disarming you, and trying to intimidate you. Happy?"
"No, because someone broke into my house and stole some gum from my stash, too."
"Hey, I didn't break anything." Voldemort said defensively. "I just entered your house, no breaking required."
"You just entered." Tonks said skeptically, noting that Voldemort ignored the other claim levelled at her. "Through my entire ward scheme and magically locked doors and windows. You just entered."
Then, Voldemort was gone from the sofa. When she spoke, the sound came from behind Tonks, making her whirl around to see Voldemort leaning up against the door to her flat. "No ward scheme in existence is capable of stopping me."
"That's a bold claim." Tonks replied, trying not to sound too shaken by the experience. That skill, whatever it was called, was unnaturally silent. It wasn't possible to teleport silently — that was the one universal downside of magical travel. Apparition made noise as it displaced air. Portkeys made noise as they bent space. Whatever this was, it violated all known principles of instantaneous travel.
"It's also a true claim." She replied nonchalantly. "Now then, I don't suppose you've reconsidered my offer of employment?"
"Fuck off."
"I'll take that as a 'no', then."
"Why the fuck would I want to join the Death Eaters, anyway!?" Tonks yelled, feeling immensely grateful for the silencing charms she worked into the wards. "Do you want me as some gesture of 'reclaiming me' because of my parentage!? 'Rescuing the poor, lost daughter of the house of Black from the legacy of her poor mudblood father' and all that tripe!? Well you can forget it! It will be a cold day in hell when I join your gang of blood purists!"
Voldemort didn't seem at all perturbed by her rebuke. If anything, she seemed amused. "You'll find that this war is not so black and white, Nymphadora. In fact, I will have to arrange for you to have a discussion with your aunt after I break her out of prison. I'm sure you'll find it… enlightening."
Tonks tensed. "Was that a threat?"
"Oh no, not at all. I really meant it. You remind me a lot of Bellatrix and I think you'd get along quite well. You're both driven, loyal to a fault, resentful of your legacies, and you're both prodigies."
Damn, was it that obvious? Well, it probably was. Prodigies weren't exactly good at staying under the radar, especially once they hit adulthood. It was the main reason Moody snapped her up right out of the academy, as he wanted to see what she could accomplish with his tutelage.
"Seriously, Nymphadora, I am the most powerful witch in existence. Surely you could see the benefits of learning from me? Think of the potential!"
Tonks slowly levelled her wand at the Dark Lady. "The only thing I'm thinking is that you're an arrogant bitch hopped up on delusions of omnipotence. If you're really as strong as you claim, why are so many of your foes still standing?"
"Because I'm playing the long game, obviously."
"Uh-huh. Then why not kill your biggest adversaries? Why not sneak into Dumbledore's bedchambers and kill him in his sleep? Even if you're playing the long game, he's the only person who could go toe to toe with you in a fight. Why leave him alive if he's the one person with a chance of decisively beating you?"
Voldemort didn't say anything. For a moment, Tonks thought that she might have gotten the better of her. When Voldemort did reply, though, the answer was not what she expected.
"Guilt."
Tonks lowered her wand slightly. "Er… what?"
"I'd rather not get into it, if it's all the same to you."
"Tough luck. It's not all the same to me, and you didn't give me a choice when you 'let yourself in'. So, I'm curious what you did that has a sociopath like yourself feeling so guilty that she doesn't want to talk about it."
"I prefer the term 'empathically challenged'. As for what has me feeling this way, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to be the bigger woman, as I really do not want to get into it." And with that, Voldemort began walking towards the door.
"What, that's it? You're just leaving?"
"I'm a busy woman, Nymphadora. As fascinating as you are, you aren't the only one who has my attention right now. Wars don't plan themselves, you know. Just remember that this war is only pretending to be about blood purity — the actual reasons run far deeper than that."
With that, Voldemort vanished in that uncanny teleport of hers, leaving Tonks alone in her apartment. She didn't know whether she should be more scared of Voldemort, or impressed by her.
And really, what was that about her being like Bellatrix? She may have been smart, but Tonks wasn't the sort of madwoman who took delight in others' suffering.
No, she was nothing like Bellatrix Lestrange.
Voldemort Blinked into the laboratory and slumped into a chair. Barty, who was long used to such antics from her, didn't even bat an eye at her sudden appearance. Instead, he fell back on his favourite thing in existence — sarcasm.
"You were gone for three hours, Voldie. You cannot possibly be tired already."
"It's been a long day, Barty." She said dismissively.
"Is this about your kid?"
Of course he already knew. "That's… definitely a large factor. I suppose I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed. I lost thirteen years, Barty. It's only through good fortune that I don't have to start completely from scratch, and so many things have happened that shouldn't have."
"It's… yeah, I understand. Remember that I lost thirteen years to my bastard of a father as well."
"Yeah, it was a really shitty decade for both of us, wasn't it?"
Voldemort settled into a comfortable silence with Barty as he continued to work and she continued to mull over her various problems.
For one, she really needed to resolve the Dumbledore situation. She should have taken care of it decades ago, but no one she trusted was in a position to actually do anything about it. Severus was skilled in the mind arts and properly positioned, but she didn't trust him with the knowledge required, not since he'd turned traitor. Harry might be a viable candidate, but he would need some serious convincing and some very thorough training in the mind arts.
Speaking of which, Harry was another person on her mind. He was intelligent, able to grasp things surprisingly quickly, though he definitely had motivation issues. If he really applied himself, then he could probably rival her in both skill and power. Pettigrew had, in one of his more lucid moments, spoken in awe of the power behind the Patronus that Harry summoned at the end of his third year. Being able to use that spell at such an age was one thing, but being able to use it to repel hundreds of dementors was practically unheard of.
Next, there was Delphini. The one advantage of the current situation was that she was a teenager, not a child. While Voldemort had enough restraint to not lash out at children, she certainly had no fondness for them. Adolescents were generally more tolerable, in her opinion. It was an age at which one's best and worst aspects were laid bare, and was thus the best way to get an idea of what sort of person someone was. This way, Voldemort still had an opportunity to be a part of her… child's life while avoiding what was, in her opinion, the worst years.
Delphini would definitely need teaching, though. Even if she wasn't her daughter, there was no way Voldemort was going to keep a child this close to her without taking steps to ensure their safety. In fact, a student-teacher relationship would be much more up her alley. While Voldemort had no (good) experiences to go off of when it came to dealing with family, she had apprenticed dozens of individuals across the previous several decades. It would be a much more comfortable way for her to forge a relationship with Delphini, for her at least. While she didn't know the woman personally, Rowle seemed to do a good enough job taking care of the girl, and Bellatrix would certainly be up to taking over as primary caretaker once she'd recovered from her stint in Azkaban.
And that brought her to Bellatrix. Voldemort really needed to get her out. She also needed to get some of her other followers out, like Rookwood and Dolohov, but Voldemort prioritised Bellatrix above them, as she had still yet to make good on that promise she made to her all those years ago. That, and Bellatrix was one of the few people she'd ever met who could hold up a half-decent conversation on magical theory. That alone made her pleasant company, but Bellatrix was also one of her best front-line fighters, and the only person besides herself who could easily take on multiple aurors. Dolohov came close, but his history of dueling made him prone to focusing on a single target.
So yes, freeing Bellatrix was a high priority. Unfortunately, Voldemort didn't dare take Azkaban until the situation with her body was resolved. And that meant that she needed the Philosopher's Stone.
…Dammit.
"I don't suppose you've had any revelations about alchemy while I was out, have you?" She asked.
"I've realised that I want to travel back in time and murder whoever came up with the idea of turning arithmantic equations into riddles. Seriously, who decides to turn good, clean numbers into bullshite wordplay!? Alchemists are way too picky about preventing outsiders from understanding their work."
"While I hate to play devil's advocate, they have a point." Voldemort commented as she stared at the scorch marks on the ceiling. That explosion must have really been something if it even managed to create singeing that high. "Philosopher's Stones are challenging to make, but not that challenging. If the knowledge of how to make them was more widely available then it was, then there would be some serious global destabilisation due to both inflation and a large number of immortals. It's the sort of hellish scenario that could easily result in some very extreme concentration of power, creating some very severe class divisions."
"So, like the Wizengamot, but worse?"
She laughed. "Yeah, basically. I mean, it's bad enough that the old families control most of the wealth, but can you imagine if they were also immortal? No, immortality is best kept as something that one needs true determination to claim."
"I suppose you'd know, wouldn't you…" Barty mumbled as he scribbled out some equations on his parchment. "Oh! I didn't make any headway on the stone, but I did figure something else out. I figured out why your resurrection ritual went all screwy."
Voldemort perked up. That was good news, actually. While she had no plans on dying anytime soon, it would be all the better if she knew how to avoid this problem in the future. "So, what went wrong?"
"You know how the original ritual called for using the bone of the father? And how we modified it to use the bone of your, what, great great great grandmother?"
She nodded. "Melinda Gaunt. She was my nearest ancestor who was neither a muggle nor horribly inbred."
Barty nodded in confirmation. "Right, well, while we properly compensated for using bone that was several generations detached from the intended material, we did not compensate for using genetic material from your mother's side of the family." With that, he handed her a piece of parchment that had several corrections on it marked in red. She looked it over and realised that they did completely forget to compensate for that.
"Motherfucker." Voldemort swore. "How the fuck did we miss this?"
He shrugged. "You were only recently corporeal and I was recovering from years of imperius exposure? Really, it's a testament to our skill that we managed to modify the ritual as much as we did with our minds as muddled as they were."
She just sighed and pinched her brow in exasperation. "I still can't believe this. I don't want to rush you, but please consider this a priority. I'm sure you understand why."
Barty nodded. "Secret's safe with me, Mistress."
Voldemort groaned. "I regret telling you that you could use that term. I should have known you'd just use it as an avenue for more innuendo."
Barty waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Okay, that's it. I'm going to leave you to your work, Barty, while I go and check up on Delphini. See how she's settling in and all that."
"Suit yourself." Barty said teasingly. "I guess it'll be another lonely night for me."
Voldemort was never more grateful that Barty's occlumency was good enough to keep the details of such "lonely nights" from her passive legilimency.
While Delphini was annoyed that Gran forced her to come to the UK, she was willing to take advantage of the opportunity it presented her. The Slavic Confederacy was generally lax when it came to restricting materials on the dark arts, but certain books were unilaterally banned. The UK, however, had lots of grandfather clauses that made it legal for families to own such books, so long as they weren't being bought or sold. It was just another way that the aristocracy of the Isles held their power.
The Malfoys were not a part of the aristocracy, however, they had enough money to obtain banned books through illicit means, and just enough political acumen to make law enforcement look the other way. There was no way she'd pass up a chance to read such material when the opportunity presented itself, even if it did come at the grace of a family as spineless as the Malfoys. Gran had a lot to say about the Malfoys, and very little of it was good.
Unfortunately, her reading about ritual human sacrifice was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Delphini was content to ignore them until she saw that the person coming in was none other than the Dark Lady herself. Whoop-de-freakin-doo.
"May we speak?" She asked Delphini in a level tone that implied some extreme emotional control.
Gods, of course she wanted to talk. Everyone wanted to fucking talk. Gran wanted to talk, Karkaroff wanted to talk, and now her "mother" wanted to talk. "Be my guest."
Delphini watched as Voldemort sat down, trying to get a read on her body language. While the woman was clearly very good at controlling herself, she did detect a hint of hesitation, or possibly wariness, in her posture. When she made no move to start the conversation, Delphini started it for her.
"Are you going to actually say anything, or can I go back to my book?"
"What are you reading?" She asked.
Oh dear gods, she was trying to make small talk. If not for how comfortable this chair was, Delphini would think she was in hell. "The magical theory of sacrificial rituals."
Voldemort perked up at that. Delphini knew that expression anywhere — it was the look that a prodigy got on their face when they were about to be a huge fucking nerd. Gods help her.
"Is this for informational, practical, or experimental purposes?" Voldemort asked, confirming Delphini's nerd theory. "I've actually performed human sacrifice on multiple occasions in the past for various purposes. Perhaps I can provide some insight?"
Oh hell no. "I'm sorry, but I need to go… somewhere else. Bye!"
And with that, she ran out of the room, leaving her nerdy, Dark Lady mother alone in the library. Delphini was capable of putting up with a lot of bullshit, but she drew the line at listening to her dorky, unhip, sixty-something year old mum nerd out about magical theory.
Voldemort stared at the door Delphini had just charged out of with a small frown. After a moment, she leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs.
"Kids, Huh? What can you do?" She said to herself.
A/N (Tendra): The pizzeria scene was inspired by me trying an anchovy pizza for the first time, hence why it was part of Voldemort's order. I love anchovies so much, and an anchovy pizza was just as delicious as I dreamed it would be.
Yes, Delphini is in the fic. You can blame Leyrann for that one.
The existence of blood magic rituals that allows same-sex partners to reproduce is a major point in all of my fics. In the Departureverse, such magic is highly regulated, but available, hence why same-sex relationships are not frowned upon by the bloodline oriented magical world. By contrast, in the Scrambledverse, blood magic is unilaterally banned in a large number of countries, resulting in a magical world that's less accepting of same-sex relationships.
There's a fair deal of foreshadowing in this chapter, and I'd love to hear some of your theories about what's going on behind the scenes. If you'd like to discuss them with myself and other fans of my fics, you can join my Discord server at 6YwQewK, where you can get early access to chapters of all of my fics as well as commentary from yours truly.
E/N (Xgenje): Ok, 2 words… with a hyphen in them. Mama-Mort.
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