A/N: I really need to tell you. I worked way too many hours and days on this chapter, and now, my eyes are burning. I feel like it still wasn't given the justice it deserved, but I'm tired and really just want to go to sleep.
A/N: CHAPTER 3, REVAMPED.
Chapter 3
He is indeed the heir to my legacy
August 3rd, 1979
Severus Snape couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration as he stood before Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the opportunity to prove his loyalty and worth. He kept his head down, trying to hide the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
"Why, thank you for telling me, Severus," Voldemort said smoothly, acknowledging Severus's role in bringing him the crucial information. It sent a shiver of satisfaction down Severus's spine.
"Yes, my Lord," Severus responded, his voice laced with deference and pride. He knew he had impressed the Dark Lord with his resourcefulness.
"You may leave." The Dark Lord's words granted Severus permission to depart, but he couldn't resist one last attempt to solidify his position.
Severus nodded, taking a step backwards, carefully maintaining an air of respect and obedience. As he reached the door, he turned slightly, his voice oozing with ambition. "If you require anything else, my Lord, any task you wish me to undertake, I am at your service."
Severus watched closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of approval or even a hint of a smile from Voldemort. He yearned for recognition, a reward for his dedication. But the Dark Lord merely nodded, his expression inscrutable.
Disappointment flickered in Severus's eyes, quickly replaced by determination. He would prove himself even further, showing the Dark Lord that he was indispensable. He would rise through the ranks, earning the respect and fear of all those who dared to oppose Voldemort.
Severus exited the room with a final bow, his heart pounding with anticipation and uncertainty. He knew he had taken a step closer to his desired place of power and influence within Voldemort's ranks. The thought of being the Dark Lord's favoured servant filled him with a heady sense of pride and purpose.
As he walked down the dark corridors, Severus's mind raced with plans and strategies. He would become indispensable to Voldemort, earning his trust to the point where he became an irreplaceable asset. He would be the one to advise and guide the Dark Lord, positioning himself as the closest confidant.
But there was another motivation that drove Severus, a secret desire that he dared not voice aloud. Deep down, he harboured a flicker of hope that his loyalty and devotion might one day earn him something more—perhaps a place of power and influence beside Voldemort, sharing in the glory of his conquests.
Little did he know the consequences that awaited him, the sacrifices he would have to make. But for now, Severus Snape revelled in the belief that he had secured his place as the teacher's pet, the trusted confidant of Lord Voldemort.
October 3rd, 1979
Nearly two months had passed since Severus had come to him with the news. The prophecy loomed over Voldemort's mind, a constant reminder of the threat to his power. He knew he couldn't simply dismiss or destroy it to alter fate. No, he had to devise a plan to work around it to ensure his survival and dominance. The knowledge that someone would dare to challenge him, to seek his demise, fuelled his anger and sharpened his resolve.
Voldemort sneered at the idea of relying solely on his existing fail-safe measures, as good as they were. He needed a contingency plan, a backup to do his dirty work in case his initial schemes faltered. But he couldn't entrust such crucial tasks to just anyone. No, it had to be someone loyal, someone under his control.
Voldemort's mind delved deeper into his twisted desires, contemplating the concept of loyalty. He understood that true loyalty could not be easily obtained or forced upon others. It had to be meticulously crafted, ingrained from the very beginning. That was when an unsettling idea slithered into his consciousness like a serpent whispering dark secrets.
The notion of creating his own brand of loyalty, a being moulded in his image, sent shivers of anticipation down Voldemort's spine. He recognised the potential power in birthing a child who would be raised according to his will, indoctrinated with his beliefs and values from the moment of inception. Such a child, conceived through his own act of copulation, would be the epitome of loyalty and obedience.
A wicked smile twisted Voldemort's features as he contemplated the possibilities. He revelled in the idea of raising a progeny who would unquestioningly follow his every command, an heir who would carry his legacy forward with unwavering devotion. The thought of such complete control over another being ignited a perverse satisfaction within him.
He despised involving a woman in his affairs, viewing it as a weakness reserved for lesser beings. Nevertheless, he recognised the necessity of finding a pure-blooded woman, as he couldn't stomach the thought of breeding with a Mudblood.
A sinister smile crossed Voldemort's face as he contemplated the secrets he would keep hidden. His future heir, born out of wedlock, would pass as a pureblood, a testament to his cunning and deception. There was only one option that met his criteria: Narcissa. The thought of creating another version of Bellatrix disgusted him, but Narcissa would suffice. She would be forced into bearing his child, a vessel for his legacy while being ignorant of her child's true fate. It amused him to think of the reputation he would have if people discovered the truth.
Voldemort sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Despite her unwavering loyalty, Bellatrix was a temptation he could not succumb to. Narcissa was the safer choice, the one who would fulfil his needs without arousing unnecessary suspicion. He called for Severus, knowing the Potions Master was privy to his plans. Severus slithered into the room like a snake, his voice level and submissive.
His mind drifted back to Narcissa, the woman who would become the mother of his child. The pure-blooded lineage she possessed was essential, ensuring that the offspring would be perceived as a true heir, carrying the bloodline of greatness. Voldemort's loathing for impure blood coursed through his veins, fuelling his determination to maintain his own twisted purity.
With Narcissa as the chosen vessel, Voldemort saw an opportunity to forge his loyalty by creating a child who would embody his dark ambitions. The child's upbringing would be carefully orchestrated, devoid of compassion or weakness. Every aspect of their existence would be moulded to fit Voldemort's desires, their loyalty and obedience ingrained through fear and manipulation.
As he revelled in his sinister plans, Voldemort felt a surge of exhilaration. The prospect of a child born out of darkness, raised to embody his values, brought him one step closer to realising his ultimate vision of power and control. With each passing moment, his resolve hardened, his malevolence burning brighter.
"My Lord?" Severus said softly when Voldemort had been silent for too long.
On a typical occasion, Voldemort would have punished Snape for daring to interrupt his musings, but his end result was more exciting than a punishment.
"I require Narcissa. Alone. Lucius may not join in the meeting," Voldemort commanded, refraining from smirking at Severus' obedient nature. Severus stiffened but bowed and left the room, aware of the severity of the situation.
Soon enough, Narcissa entered the room, accompanied by Severus. Voldemort observed her, noticing a slight glow about her despite the circumstances. Without warning, he aimed a spell at Narcissa, confirming what he suspected. She clutched her belly protectively, and Voldemort smirked, pleased with his deduction.
"You are with child," Voldemort stated, his voice dripping with menace as he circled around her, imposing his dominance. Narcissa remained calm, her hand still covering her stomach, though no bump was visible.
"Yes, my Lord," Narcissa replied softly, resigned to the truth that the spell had already revealed. Voldemort's mind raced with possibilities, knowing that this presented an opportunity to solidify his plans.
"Now, Narcissa. I do need a favour from you," Voldemort purred, his voice laced with anticipation. The woman did not bother responding, knowing that she had little choice in the matter. For once, Voldemort felt calm enough not to curse her for her insolence. Momentarily, he hesitated. This would not be pleasant even to say out loud.
Though as Narcissa's fear grew with each passing moment, Voldemort's malevolence increased, his desire to exert control over others overwhelming any trace of benevolence. He revelled in his power and the manipulation of those around him. The stage was set, and he was ready to execute his twisted plan with ruthless efficiency.
Narcissa knelt before Voldemort, her heart pounding with fear and anticipation. Voldemort's cold eyes fixed upon her, his voice dripping with calculated charm.
"First," Voldemort began, deciding to take the safe route, "I need you to make an unbreakable vow."
Narcissa's breath hitched at the mention of the unbreakable vow, realising the seriousness of the request. She glanced at Voldemort with trepidation and determination, understanding the consequences of such a vow.
"Talby," Voldemort called, his voice resonating through the chamber. His house elf appeared, bowing low before them. "I need you to get Severus. Narcissa here needs a witness for an unbreakable vow."
Talby popped away, and within a minute, Severus was at the door again, seemingly aware of the situation. "Narcissa here needs a witness for an unbreakable vow," Voldemort explained, his tone stern.
"Of course," Severus responded without hesitation, his loyalty unwavering.
Narcissa rose to her feet, her eyes meeting Severus's briefly. She knew the weight of this vow and the consequences it held. Voldemort, Severus, and Narcissa stood together, their wands raised, ready to bind their fates.
"Will you, Narcissa Malfoy, adhere to everything the Dark Lord tells you?" Severus asked, holding his wand against their linked arms.
"I will," Narcissa replied, her voice steady despite the gravity of the vow.
"And will you, Narcissa, keep this information, and all that goes along with it, hidden from your husband, Lucius Malfoy?"
Narcissa couldn't hold back her blanch but responded with conviction, "I will."
"And will you give up the child to your Lord once it is born?"
Narcissa's eyes widened at the demand, but she knew there was no room for negotiation. She hissed in pain as magic zapped her for failing to comply with the vow rules immediately. Gritting her teeth, she replied, "I will."
With the vow now binding her, Narcissa could feel the weight of her words, and the punishment of death loomed over her if she were to break it.
"You may leave now, Severus," Voldemort commanded, dismissing the witness. Severus hesitated for a moment, then bowed and left the room, knowing the significance of the vow that had just taken place.
Alone with Narcissa again, Voldemort's gaze bore into her, displeasure and calculated restraint. "We will share a bed, Narcissa," he declared, his voice filled with command and a chilling sense of possession. "I will perform a spell that will guarantee that you will carry my child, despite you already carrying one."
Narcissa's eyes widened, apprehension and resignation flashing across her face. She realised the depths to which she had entangled herself in Voldemort's twisted plans. She fought the instinct to recoil but kept her composure.
"And then you expect me to give up the second child," Narcissa muttered, her voice tainted with defiance.
Voldemort's gaze hardened, his patience wearing thin.
"Let's do this again, shall we?" Voldemort asked pleasantly, waving Severus out of the room.
Narcissa sighed.
"You want me to bear your child," she stated, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
Voldemort nodded. "A child with your blood and mine, raised in the ways of our kind. It will be the heir to my legacy, the one who will carry on my vision."
Narcissa took a deep breath, considering her options. She knew better than to refuse her master's wishes, but the thought of bearing a child with him was frightening and intriguing.
"If I agree to this, will I have any say in the child's upbringing?" she asked cautiously, hoping at least that even if the Dark Lord wouldn't allow her to keep the child, she could have a say in how he was brought up.
Voldemort's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance, but he restrained himself, and she was shocked and pleased with his answer. "You will have the child until they are old enough to be taught in the ways of our world. After that, they will be under my guidance."
Narcissa nodded, understanding the terms. She knew that once the child was of age, their fate would be sealed, bound to Voldemort's vision and ambitions.
"Very well," she said, her voice steady despite her trepidation. "I will do as you ask, my Lord."
Voldemort's thin lips curved into a smile. "Good. I knew you would make the right decision."
You know nothing, Narcissa thought, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She knew better than to challenge the Dark Lord's confidence in his plans.
"Should something happen, I want to continue raising the child," she said, knowing she was stretching her limit but not wanting to give up a chance.
Voldemort's lip curled into a half-smile, amusement and irritation colouring his eyes. "Only if something happens," he agreed, knowing deep down nothing would jeopardise his plans.
"Agree on your magic," Narcissa pressed, her voice firm.
"Narcissa," Voldemort hissed, his tone growing cold, "If anyone finds out about this, I'll kill you myself. Magic won't even get a chance."
Narcissa's face pinched, her hand floating back to her stomach, her anger and protective instincts intensifying at the very thought of losing the child she already carried, but adding another one meant she would have another sweet soul to love and care for. She wasn't going to change her mind. She wouldn't concede, her determination shining through like the beautiful blond flicker of her hair.
"Please..." she pleaded instead, her voice laced with desperation and a flicker of vulnerability. Would the Dark Lord really not give her this much?
Voldemort's expression softened momentarily, his gaze lingering on Narcissa's face. "If something were to happen, you would have your custodial rights," he relented, seemingly understanding the depth of her desire to protect her offspring.
After their tense exchange, Voldemort turned away, pleased with his calculated compromise. He couldn't afford any complications, not when his plans were finally falling into place. Whether she realised it or not, Narcissa's role in this was vital.
Narcissa's heart raced as she found herself alone with Voldemort in the dimly lit chamber. The weight of their impending union hung heavily in the air, both a means to an end and a sacrifice she was compelled to make. She steeled herself, knowing that her family's future rested on this singular act.
There was a rush in Narcissa's lungs as Voldemort's intense gaze locked onto hers. It was just the two of them now, and the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her. She knew what was expected of her, and despite her apprehensions, she couldn't deny the thrill of being so close to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort, his eyes cold and calculating, approached Narcissa with a predatory grace, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt, which confused her as it could have easily been done with magic. But perhaps this was how he was charming, and Narcissa had to admit, it took her breath away as his perfection became apparent the more the Dark Lord removed articles of clothing. The thought of sharing a bed with him made her stomach churn, but she knew it was a necessary evil, and somehow, Narcissa thought, perhaps it would be okay. After all, she would become a pawn in his game to fulfil his twisted desire for an heir.
Reluctantly, Narcissa removed her robes, exposing her vulnerability before the dark lord. Voldemort's gaze lingered on her, his hunger for power and control evident. Without a word, he reached out and gently brushed his fingers against her cheek, a chilling reminder of his dominance, as part of his fingers curled around the back of her neck, holding her in place.
Voldemort leaned in, and before she could react, he whispered a spell against her lips, sending a tingling sensation through her entire body. She felt her senses heighten as the magic took effect, ensuring that despite her current condition, she would fall pregnant with his child.
Her mind briefly wandered to her precious son and the life she was already carrying. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, but this was a sacrifice she had to make for their safety.
The room became a vortex of suppressed emotions as the two intertwined in a macabre dance of duty and twisted desire. Their bodies moved in synchronised rhythm, guided by a sinister purpose. Narcissa's mind struggled to disconnect from the reality of the act, focusing instead on the future she sought to protect.
In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, Narcissa felt an unexpected surge of power within her. It was as if the very essence of her being rebelled against the darkness that consumed her. She clung to that glimmer of hope, knowing that the child she carried would be her salvation in this nightmare. She had no idea what had just transpired, but Voldemort's satisfaction was evident in his eyes.
As their intimate encounter continued, Narcissa was both captivated and terrified by Voldemort's power. He was cunning, manipulative, and dangerous. Still, she was unable to ignore that something was alluring about him, a magnetism that drew her in, and his beauty also could not be denied.
When their union reached its climax, Voldemort's eyes glinted with a mix of triumph and something else she couldn't quite place. He raised his wand and murmured another spell, directing his magic towards her belly.
Unbeknownst to Narcissa, this second spell was meant to bind the newly conceived child to him. But, as fate would have it, the magic went awry, and the spell inadvertently latched onto her first child instead.
In the aftermath, Voldemort remained silent, and Narcissa dared not speak. She felt a mix of conflicting emotions - fear, regret, and an odd sense of loyalty to this dark and enigmatic man.
Once the deed was done, Voldemort withdrew, his face a mask of detached indifference. He had achieved his goal, even as Narcissa grappled with the conflicted emotions that swirled within her. The room felt hushed, the weight of their actions lingering in the air.
As Narcissa adjusted her robes and sought composure, she cast a sidelong glance at Voldemort. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, silently acknowledging the dark bond that now tied them together. She despised him, yet she would do whatever it took to protect her family.
Eventually, Voldemort rose from the bed, and Narcissa followed suit, relief and trepidation flooding her. She knew her life had changed irrevocably, and she could only hope that whatever future lay ahead, she would find a way to protect her children and navigate the dangerous waters she now found herself.
Voldemort's eyes gleamed with a mix of triumph and perverse satisfaction. The act had served its purpose: creating an heir to carry on his legacy. In his mind, this child was nothing more than a vessel, a pawn in his quest for immortality and ultimate power.
Their secret liaison concealed beneath layers of deception and fear, Narcissa left the chamber, her steps heavy with the weight of her choices.
To her surprise, Severus was still waiting for her, pale and terrified. To make him feel better, she said, "The Dark Lord is a bastard, Severus, but he's also alright."
The man raised his eyebrows, waved his hand at her statement and let her out into the dark night, where he walked with her back to Malfoy Manor.
Nine Months Later - June 5th
The room echoed with Narcissa's soft cries as she clung tightly to the bedsheets, sweat glistening on her pale forehead. A devoted house-elf named Zibbles hovered nearby, his large eyes filled with concern.
The air was heavy with magic in the grand chamber of Malfoy Manor, and the walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient spells. Narcissa's labour pains were intensified by the physical strain and the weight of her decision months ago – a choice she couldn't take back.
Narcissa's distress intensified as the hours passed, and the pain became almost unbearable. Despite her initial reluctance, a mother's love had grown inside her heart, entwined with her sense of responsibility towards the children she carried.
Lucius paced outside the room, anxious but unaware of the true reason for his wife's prolonged labour. He believed both children to be born were his own, unaware of the secret she kept.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the cries of her firstborn filled the air. Narcissa's pained expression softened with relief and exhaustion. Zibbles carefully wrapped the baby in a soft blanket and placed him in Narcissa's trembling arms.
"What shall we name them, my lady?" Zibbles asked, ever the devoted servant.
Narcissa's heart swelled with love and protectiveness for her newborn son. "The elder one shall be Draco," she said, softly caressing her firstborn's cheek.
Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at her son, with tufts of white-blond locks. His name would be a perfect heir to the Malfoy name.
Hours later, Narcissa's labour resumed, and this time, her pain was more intense than before. After an arduous struggle, another cry echoed in the room, softer and weaker. Zibbles, with concern etched on his face, wrapped the second baby, born with striking black hair, in a soft blanket and carefully placed him in Narcissa's arms.
As she held her second son, Narcissa's heart was heavy, knowing the circumstances surrounding his birth. Her younger son was smaller and more delicate than Draco, having had almost a month less time to grow. Superfetation twins, she thought to herself, realising the rare and unusual circumstances of their birth.
Narcissa pondered over the name carefully, her heart torn between the love she had for her son and the dark alliance she had forged. In her search for the perfect name, one that would honour both her feelings and the significance of her son's existence, she found herself drawn to the Ara constellation from ancient mythology.
The Ara constellation symbolised the union between gods, a celestial collaboration that transcended boundaries and united powerful beings. In a way, this resonated with Narcissa's own situation - the union between herself and the Dark Lord, a powerful and otherworldly alliance that had brought her son into existence.
Choosing the name "Ara" for her son felt like an acknowledgement of the love she held for him and the role he played in the grand tapestry of her life. It represented the delicate balance she walked between the light and dark, the human and the magical, and the mother and the follower. "Ara" was more than just a name; it became a testament to the complexity of her emotions and the unique circumstances surrounding her son's birth.
As she spoke the name softly, a mixture of warmth and trepidation filled her heart. It was a name that held power and secrets, a name that would forever remind her of the choices she had made and the path she had chosen. And as she looked into her son's eyes, she knew that he was the embodiment of that name - a symbol of unity and strength, born from the alliance between two worlds, destined to make his own mark on the future that awaited him.
It was a little bit later, after feeding the twins, when she first smelled their need to be changed. Knowing her time was limited with her youngest, she did it on her own without using magic.
Zibbles stood nearby, ready to attend to their needs if necessary. She carefully changed their diapers and noticed a faint mark on Draco's neck, just behind his ear. There, etched in a light, shimmering glow, was the intricate pattern of two runes intertwined – Isa and Laguz. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the significance of the combination. The Isa rune represented ice, stillness, and potential, while Laguz symbolised water, intuition, and the ebb and flow of emotions. Together, the fusion of these runes held profound meaning – a powerful harmony between control and emotion, forming a balance that could grant immense strength. As she traced the runes with her fingertip, she couldn't help but feel that destiny had marked her son with something extraordinary. She was curious and concerned, wondering what these ancient symbols might foretell for her beloved Draco's future.
"Zibbles, wait," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as she turned her attention to her younger son, whom she decided to secretly call Ara. Ara had been born a few hours after Draco, and she knew that both of her sons were unique in their own ways.
With bated breath, Narcissa shifted her focus to Ara, her heart pounding in her chest as she carefully unwrapped his blanket and examined his delicate form. Her eyes widened in relief and trepidation as she discovered the combination of two runes etched upon his left thigh – Perthro and Nauthiz. The Perthro rune represented mystery, fate, and the unknown, while Nauthiz symbolised need, constraint, and the challenges of life. The fusion of these ancient symbols brought forth a potent union of destiny and inner strength.
Intrigued yet anxious, Narcissa couldn't help but wonder at the significance of this powerful pairing. It was as though fate had marked her son with an enigmatic path, one filled with hurdles and resilience. The presence of these runes spoke of potential secrets hidden within Ara's future, a destiny intertwined with both his own desires and the demands of the world around him.
Narcissa's maternal instincts surged as she realised the importance of these runes in Ara's life. She knew that the combination of Perthro and Nauthiz bestowed upon him the ability to navigate the unknown with remarkable adaptability and determination. It was a gift that would undoubtedly shape his character and guide him through life's uncertainties.
As she gently traced the runes with her fingertips, Narcissa felt a profound sense of awe and concern. She couldn't fully grasp the true magnitude of what these symbols might herald for Ara, but she was certain that his journey would be marked with extraordinary experiences. Her heart swelled with love and fierce protectiveness for her son, vowing to support and guide him through the paths destiny had woven for him.
In these ancient symbols, Narcissa found a profound connection to her children. The runes, each carrying their own meaning, seemed to hold the promise of a remarkable future for Draco and Ara – one she was determined to safeguard, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.
"What is it, Mistress Narcissa?" Zibbles asked, his voice filled with concern.
"It's nothing, Zibbles," she replied, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn't yet put into words. "Just a mother's intuition, that's all. Please continue with their care."
Zibbles nodded and resumed attending to the infants, wrapping them back in their soft blankets. Narcissa held her sons close, her heart heavy, knowing that their lives were bound to a destiny she couldn't fully grasp. She couldn't shake the feeling that these runes were somehow connected to her dangerous alliance with the Dark Lord, whose influence loomed over her family like an ever-present shadow.
As the days passed, Narcissa couldn't help but study the symbols whenever she had a moment alone with her sons. The Isa rune on Draco's neck reminded her of the power and control the Dark Lord held over her family, while the Perthro rune on Ara's inner thigh represented a hidden, unpredictable fate.
With each passing day, Narcissa's heart filled with love and concern for her sons, but she couldn't escape the feeling of being entangled in a web of destiny and danger. The runes on their bodies were a constant reminder of her choices and the path her family now treaded. She could only hope that, in the end, her love and sacrifice would protect her sons from the dark forces that sought to control them.
June 8th, 1980
Three days had passed since the birth of Draco and her youngest, and Narcissa was still recovering from the exhaustion of childbirth. The manor was hushed, and the only sounds that echoed through the hallways were the soft cries of the newborns. Narcissa sat in her chamber, cradling her sons in her arms, but she knew she had to act quickly.
With a sense of urgency, she took out a piece of parchment and quill, hastily writing a letter to the Dark Lord. Her hand trembled slightly as she carefully chose her words, ensuring that her request would be precise and effective.
There were two things she needed to write.
Once the ink had dried on the parchment, Narcissa sealed it with the Malfoy family crest and entrusted it to Zibbles. She whispered specific instructions to the loyal creature, ensuring it would deliver the letter directly into the Dark Lord's hands and no one else's. Just to be sure, she added a nice touch of magic to both letters, ensuring that only the Dark Lord's magical signature would unlock them.
With her task complete, Narcissa waited for an opportune moment to act. When Severus visited Lucius three days later, Narcissa seized the chance. She slipped out of her chamber, her heart pounding in her chest. Holding her youngest child close, she made her way to the front door of Malfoy Manor.
The night was cool and silent as Narcissa stood on the doorstep, cradling the dark-haired infant. Just as she had planned, the baby was wrapped in a soft blanket, his tiny face peaceful as he slept. Narcissa hesitated momentarily, the weight of her decision settling on her shoulders, but she knew this was the only way to protect him and ensure his survival.
With a heavy heart, Narcissa placed the baby on the doorstep, gently kissing his forehead one last time. Tears welled as she whispered a silent farewell to her second-born. Then, with determination, she turned away and hurried back inside the manor, not daring to look back. Indeed, she had no idea if the Dark Lord would keep his end of the bargain, and it was possible she would never see him again.
In the distance, a cry echoed through the night, but Narcissa did not falter. She knew this was the best course for her son's safety. Little did she know that her actions would set in motion a chain of events that would change the fate of her family forever.
As she retreated into the shadows, the manor's doors creaked open. A Death Eater stepped outside, finding the young child on the doorstep. Confusion flashed across the man's eyes, but his loyalty to his master was unwavering. With his face still shocked and confused, the man picked up the baby and disappeared into the darkness of the manor where the Dark Lord lay waiting.
June 8th, 1980
Voldemort found that waiting for something for nine months helped to forget the events earlier that year. Especially with all the raids he had his Death Eaters go on. It definitely kept him busy each day to round up potential new followers. Dare he say fun? Anytime someone accepted his proposal, he felt confident about his status as Dark Lord. His need for someone to pass on his legacy was still there, but it was so far back in his mind that it only popped up in his subconscious when he slept.
It was, therefore, a mild shock when a very confused Antonin Dolohov knocked on his door, holding a tiny bundle in his arms, and the sound of a baby's cries rising to a pitch, causing both of them to wince.
Oh, Voldemort thought, pressing a finger to the pressure point over his nose. Right.
"Shall I just get rid of it, my Lord?" Dolohov asked, moving to get his wand.
"NO!" Voldemort snapped, sending a sting hex to Dolohov's hand, forcing him to drop his wand with a yelp, but it had the foreseeable result of Dolohov also dropping the baby.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Voldemort ground out, relieved when the child rose above the floor a moment before he smacked into it.
"And you, Dolohov." Voldemort scowled fiercely at him. "Crucio." The sound of screaming drowned out the child's wails, enabling the Dark Lord to finally think clearly. While Dolohov was incapacitated, Voldemort took the bundle that had come to a stop gently on the floor.
Dolohov's screams faded as Voldemort entered his private quarters. The dark-haired man turned his attention back to the child in his arms. Narcissa had done well by him. This was his true heir. He carefully unwrapped the blanket, revealing the baby's features. The child had a striking resemblance to him, but there was a hint of Narcissa's beauty in those delicate features as well. Voldemort couldn't help but be fascinated by the combination.
Gently cradling the child, he felt a surge of power emanating from him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was like a deep connection had formed between them, an unbreakable bond transcending time and space. The magic within the infant seemed to respond to his own, dancing and intertwining in a mesmerising display.
A rush of emotions overwhelmed Voldemort as he looked into the baby's eyes. He felt pride and joy, a sense of fulfilment he had never known. This child was not just a means to an end; he was something more, something greater. He embodied Voldemort's legacy, the culmination of all his ambitions and desires.
It was then that Voldemort realised he felt a kinship with this child, a bond that surpassed even his connection to his most loyal Death Eaters. This child was a part of him, and he was a part of this child. It was a revelation that both thrilled and frightened him.
He had always sought immortality through his Horcruxes, but now he saw a different kind of immortality in his heir. This tiny bundle of wails would carry on his name, power, and ideals, ensuring that Voldemort's legacy would endure long after his mortal existence had ceased to exist.
The Dark Lord looked down at the child with newfound tenderness. He wondered what kind of man this little one would become, what great deeds he would accomplish, and what dark destinies he would shape. The future seemed uncertain and full of possibilities, and Voldemort was eager to see it unfold.
With a sense of clarity, Voldemort realised that this child, his true heir, would be the one to help him fulfil the prophecy. His son would vanquish the Dark Lord's enemies and establish his dominance over the wizarding world, and then perhaps, the two of them could rule together.
A sense of excitement filled him as he envisioned the future he had always dreamed of. He would raise this boy as his own, shaping him into the perfect heir who would carry out his will with unwavering loyalty and devotion.
As he looked down at the sleeping baby, Voldemort silently vowed. He would protect this child, nurture him, and prepare him for the role he was destined to play. No harm would befall his true heir, and anyone who dared to stand in their way would face the full wrath of the Dark Lord.
The boy would need a name, and then Voldemort wanted it out of his face. He doubted a newborn thing would understand about his legacy, anyway.
"How about Salazar?" Voldemort pressed his lips together. That was way too obvious, and there was no way in Merlin he would give the child a Muggle last name. Imagine naming him Riddle, of all things. Shuddering at the thought, he twisted his wand between his fingers, contemplating, Sala… Zahar. It was perfection! Sala Zahar Slytherin. His mother had been a Gaunt, after all. His son deserved the Slytherin name.
"Your name is Sala Zahar Slytherin. You descended from very important people." The child blinked at him as if agreeing.
Just as he was about to hand Sala to Talby, he noticed two small envelopes tucked into the boy's blanket.
Grimacing, he took it out and read what it said.
As promised, it began. A postscript was underneath the words with a slight sparkle of magic around it.
Voldemort took a deep breath and pressed his magical signature into the parchment, and the document filled with words:
The woman was nothing if not innovative, he acknowledged.
My Lord,
The child was born on June 5th, almost immediately after Draco Lucius Malfoy. They are called "Superfetation twins," in which they share a womb but were conceived at different times.
Unlike Draco, I did not name this child, as I feel their bond would grow stronger if I gave him a Malfoy name.
The letter burnt up in his hands as soon as the Dark Lord finished reading.
She hadn't named him… It was another way Narcissa had proved to him she was a clever witch.
He opened the second letter, and just like the first, it needed his magical signature.
My Lord,
As you have instructed, I have borne you a son, the heir to your legacy. As promised, I now relinquish the child to your care. I ask that you ensure no one else remembers the existence of this child apart from you and me. Whenever someone attempts to inquire or think about him, may their mind be clouded, and their thoughts may be confused.
As you know, it is essential that the knowledge of this child remain concealed from others, especially from my husband, Lucius Malfoy. It is imperative that you fulfil my request to protect the secrecy of our second-born.
Once My Lord does what's necessary, please pass the child back to me with the name you choose until it is time for you to take him back once more.
Yours faithfully,
Narcissa Malfoy
With a nod, Voldemort handed Sala to Talby, who waited silently while he read the letters. He would keep Sala for a few days and then send the child back. He had no room to take care of a child. But for now, he would need to deal with Lucius. Narcissa was right.
Until the time was right, no one had to know about his legacy.
As he left the room, the weight of his newfound purpose settled on his shoulders. He was no longer just Lord Voldemort; he was the father of a legacy, the harbinger of a new era. And nothing would stand in his way with Sala Zahar at his side. The wizarding world would bow before him, and his name would be etched into history as the greatest Dark Lord of all time.
June 9th, 1980
The sunset of the next day was already upon them, and Voldemort realised he had to handle the Lucius problem before it became too late.
He summoned Lucius Malfoy to a private meeting in his study, tapping his fingers impatiently as the man strolled towards him. Lucius, ever the loyal Death Eater, entered the room confidently, but it quickly vanished when he saw the intensity in his Lord's eyes.
"Lucius," Voldemort said in a commanding tone, "I have a task for you."
Lucius bowed respectfully. "Of course, my Lord. I am at your service."
"I need you to carry out a very delicate and crucial matter," Voldemort continued, his gaze unyielding. "It involves your wife, Narcissa, and your newborn child."
Lucius' eyes widened in surprise. "My Lord, I will do whatever is required of me."
Voldemort motioned for Lucius to come closer. As the man approached, he subtly used Legilimency to probe Lucius' mind, ensuring he was not hiding ulterior motives. Satisfied that Lucius was loyal and genuine in his commitment, Voldemort continued.
"Narcissa must be kept occupied and distracted from the child," Voldemort said, his voice low and insidious. "I cannot have her forming too strong an attachment to the boy. You must ensure she is focused on other matters and not overly concerned with the child's upbringing."
Lucius hesitated, his brows furrowing in confusion. "But why, my Lord? Shouldn't we be proud of our heir?"
"This is a matter of utmost importance, Lucius," Voldemort replied sharply. "Trust that I have my reasons. You need not concern yourself with them. Your duty is to follow my orders."
Lucius bowed his head. "Of course, my Lord. I will ensure Narcissa's attention is diverted."
"Good," Voldemort said with a sinister smile. "Now, to further safeguard this plan, I shall employ certain charms and spells on your mind."
Lucius looked alarmed at the prospect of being subjected to magical manipulation, but he knew better than to question his Lord's decisions.
"What must I do?" Lucius asked, resigned to his fate.
Voldemort waved his wand, casting several spells on Lucius. He reinforced Lucius' loyalty to him and made certain that the man would be unable to remember the details of conversations or events involving Sala Zahar. Any mention of the child would be dismissed from Lucius' mind, leaving him with a vague feeling of disinterest whenever the topic arose.
Once the spells were in place, Voldemort lifted his wand and observed the now-modified Lucius. "You shall remember our conversation today, but anything pertaining to the child shall be hazy and unimportant."
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied obediently.
"Good. You are dismissed," Voldemort said with finality.
Lucius left the study, his mind foggy with the effects of Voldemort's magic. As he walked away, he couldn't quite put his finger on what he had discussed with his Lord. The memory seemed distant and unremarkable, fading into the recesses of his mind.
With Lucius now under his control, Voldemort was satisfied that his plan to keep Sala Zahar a secret from Lucius was secure. He knew Narcissa would be too occupied with other matters to give much thought to her second-born, while Lucius would remain blissfully ignorant of his true identity.
And so, the Dark Lord's scheme to raise his heir in secrecy and away from the world's prying eyes continued, with Sala Zahar growing up under the careful care of Narcissa, unknowingly hidden from his true heritage.
With the Lucius matter taken care of, Voldemort now how to figure out how to pass on his legacy to Sala in the future.
Biting his lip, Voldemort took out a fresh parchment and dipped his quill into the ink, hovering it over momentarily as he thought. How old was old enough to learn a legacy? He reckoned Narcissa would have taught him how to read by four. If not, he could hire some tutors for the boy. He had to be raised like a pureblood. Once Sala could read, he could explain in person rather than the instructions he had written shortly on parchment. Voldemort paused, thinking back on the prophecy, wondering if it was important for his human failsafe to know about it. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…." Two children born in July of 1980 fit that description: Longbottom and Potter. Any child of Potter would be a halfblood, and as much as he loathed to admit it, Voldemort felt it fit. A drop of ink fell onto the parchment, but the man ignored it before finally penning his missive.
Rumours Fly as Evening Prophet Claims He Who Must Not Be Named Has a Son!
Barnabas Cuffe June 9th, 1980
The magical world is abuzz with rumours and speculations after the Evening Prophet published a shocking article claiming that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has fathered a child. The controversial report, titled "YOU KNOW WHO HAS A SON? WHO HAS WOOED AND DOMESTICATED HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED LONG ENOUGH TO COPULATE?" has sent shockwaves through the wizarding community, leaving many questioning the authenticity of the claims.
According to the article, a Daily Prophet correspondent claims to have received information from an undisclosed source that a Death Eater was seen carrying an infant into You Know Who's lair. While the exact details surrounding the event remain unclear, the correspondent suggests that He Who Must Not Be Named may be the child's father.
This startling revelation has left many in disbelief, as You Know Who is known for his dark and twisted nature, making the idea of him having a child seem unfathomable to some. The news has also sparked heated debates within the magical community, with some expressing fear over the prospect of a new generation of dark magic while others dismiss it as mere propaganda or an attempt to defame You Know Who's reputation.
The Evening Prophet's article goes on to mention the prophecy that has long haunted He Who Must Not Be Named, hinting at the child's potential significance in fulfilling the prophecy's ominous prophecy: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…."
As the rumour mill churns, the validity of the claims remains uncertain. The Daily Prophet's credibility has come under scrutiny in recent times, with several controversial articles causing outrage among the wizarding community. Many have accused the paper of spreading false information and promoting fear and hysteria.
While some members of the magical community remain sceptical, others believe that the Evening Prophet's article could hold some truth. Sceptics argue that You Know Who's notorious secrecy could explain why such a monumental event was kept under wraps until now.
In response to the rumours, He Who Must Not Be Named's inner circle has remained tight-lipped, with none of his followers confirming or denying the claims. The silence from the Death Eaters has only fuelled further speculation and uncertainty surrounding the alleged birth.
The revelation of You Know Who's alleged fatherhood has left the magical world on edge, uncertain of what the future may hold. As we await further developments, one thing is certain – the wizarding community braces itself for whatever lies ahead.
*Note: The Daily Prophet stands by its reporting, but readers are advised to approach the information with caution and discernment.
You Know Who's Son Revealed: Meet Sala Zahar Slytherin, Heir of Slytherin!
By Horatio Fairweather | June 10th, 1980
Following the recent publication of rumours surrounding You Know Who's alleged fatherhood, a subsequent article by the Evening Prophet has revealed additional information about the mysterious child.
The undisclosed source, who claims to be close to He Who Must Not Be Named, divulged further details about the child, whose name is now known as "Sala Zahar." Born on June 5th, Sala Zahar is said to be the "heir of Slytherin," destined to continue the legacy of greatness set by You Know Who himself.
The source also revealed that Sala Zahar is the second child born to Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, a prominent figure in You Know Who's inner circle. The circumstances surrounding the child's birth have intrigued many, as the Evening Prophet's correspondent mentioned that Sala Zahar and his brother Draco Lucius Malfoy were "Superfetation twins," sharing a womb but conceived at different times.
According to the source, Narcissa Malfoy has made an unusual request to You Know Who, asking him to protect the secrecy of Sala Zahar's existence from all, including her husband, Lucius Malfoy. The article suggests that He Who Must Not Be Named is bound by an unbreakable vow to fulfil her request and ensure that Sala Zahar remains concealed from others.
Despite the sensational claims made by the Evening Prophet, scepticism remains prevalent within the magical community. Many wonder about the authenticity of the unnamed source's information, given the paper's history of controversy and sensationalism.
As the news of the alleged child of You Know Who continues to spread, the wizarding world remains divided on the matter. Some believe that Sala Zahar's birth may hold the key to fulfilling the prophecy that has long haunted You Know Who, while others dismiss it as mere speculation and gossip.
With the magical community in a state of uncertainty and anxiety, only time will reveal the truth behind these shocking claims. As the situation unfolds, one can only speculate on the implications Sala Zahar's existence may have on the wizarding world and the future of He Who Must Not Be Named's legacy.
*Note: The Daily Prophet continues to investigate the claims made by the Evening Prophet and will provide updates as further information becomes available.
You Know Who Acknowledges Son: Sala Zahar Confirmed as Heir to You Know Who's Legacy!
By Leta Hargreeves | June 11th, 1980
In an unprecedented move, You Know Who himself has spoken out amidst the controversy surrounding the alleged birth of his son, Sala Zahar. In a bold and assertive statement, He Who Must Not Be Named addressed the swirling rumours head-on.
"It has come to my attention that the magical community is abuzz with speculations about the alleged birth of my son, Sala Zahar," You Know Who's voice rang out, carrying an air of authority that demanded attention. "I can confirm that such a child exists and is indeed the heir to my legacy."
As the wizarding world hung on his every word, You Know Who continued, "Sala Zahar is the embodiment of my greatness, destined to continue the noble cause I have set forth. His birth is a significant event, and any attempts to undermine his importance will be met with severe consequences."
You Know Who's followers, known for their unwavering loyalty, stood in awe, their faith in their dark master reaffirmed by his public acknowledgement of his son. The revelation of a new heir raised excitement and apprehension among the Death Eaters, as they now saw the potential for their Lord's legacy to continue.
However, You Know Who was quick to assert his control over the narrative. "I will not tolerate any invasive curiosity about my son or any attempts to interfere with his upbringing. He will be raised in a manner befitting his status and under the utmost protection."
To those who doubted the veracity of the claims, He Who Must Not Be Named's stern words left little room for scepticism. His vow to protect Sala Zahar and keep him hidden from prying eyes silenced any further questions about the child's existence.
In the wake of You Know Who's statement, the wizarding community remained intrigued and cautious. Some viewed the announcement as a clear indication of He Who Must Not Be Named's desire to establish a lasting dynasty, while others worried about the implications of such an heir in the unfolding events of the magical world.
As rumours and speculations continue to swirl, the magical community braces itself for the uncertain future that Sala Zahar's presence may bring. Whether the child will fulfil the prophecy or carve a unique path of his own remains to be seen, but one thing is clear – the rise of a new era in the wizarding world has begun.
*Note: The Daily Prophet will continue to closely monitor and report on any developments related to Sala Zahar and You Know Who.
Narcissa's Bold Move: You Know Who Persuades Lucius Malfoy to Accept Sala Zahar!
By Horatio Fairweather | June 15th, 1980
In a surprising twist, You Know Who's inner circle has witnessed an unexpected shift regarding the alleged birth of his son, Sala Zahar. Sources close to the situation have revealed that Narcissa Malfoy, the child's mother, has made a daring move to ensure her husband's acceptance of the newborn.
According to reliable insiders, Narcissa approached He Who Must Not Be Named with a heartfelt plea, requesting his assistance swaying Lucius Malfoy's thoughts about the child. Fearing her husband's potential opposition and the danger it might pose to Sala Zahar's safety, Narcissa implored You Know Who to take action.
In a private exchange, He Who Must Not Be Named allegedly used his formidable powers of persuasion to cloud Lucius Malfoy's mind, ensuring that he would accept Sala Zahar as his own. This strategic move by Narcissa is said to have been driven by her deep love for her child and her unwavering loyalty to You Know Who.
The success of Narcissa's request marks a rare instance of compassion from He Who Must Not Be Named, who typically does not entertain such personal matters. Sala Zahar's acceptance into the Malfoy family brings about an intriguing dynamic that may have far-reaching consequences for the magical world.
As Sala Zahar grows under the protection of You Know Who and the Malfoy family, the wizarding community can only speculate on the implications of his unique position. Will he be raised as a formidable force of darkness, or will his destiny take an unforeseen turn?
The situation continues to evolve, and the magical world remains captivated by the enigmatic presence of He Who Must Not Be Named's heir. As events unfold, the Daily Prophet will remain steadfast in delivering accurate and up-to-date information on this momentous development.
*Note: The Daily Prophet will maintain a strict focus on responsible reporting, ensuring that all information is verified and credible.
Narcissa sat in her private study, her heart racing as she read through the articles in the Daily Prophet. The revelations about her son, Ara, were shocking and unsettling, but what disturbed her more was the audacity of the newspaper to speculate and twist the truth. Sala Zahar was not some pawn for the world to gawk at or fear; he was her precious son, her Ara.
She clutched the articles tightly in her hands, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill. It had been an emotional rollercoaster ever since Ara's birth, and the constant intrusion into their lives was taking its toll on her.
"I will not tolerate any invasive curiosity about my son or any attempts to interfere with his upbringing." Her mind echoed the words, and she was simultaneously relieved and scared. His vow to protect Ara from prying eyes was reassuring but it also meant he was taking control of her son's life.
Narcissa looked across the room at Draco, her firstborn, lying in the same cot as Ara; the two linked as they slept. He adored his baby brother, and they had grown inseparable, even in the few short days since their birth. Ara's presence had brought joy and warmth to her, and she couldn't bear the thought of him being taken away.
She knew the decision to keep Ara's existence a secret from Lucius was necessary to protect him, but it weighed heavily on her heart. She couldn't even share her worries with her husband, and that isolation was suffocating.
"He is indeed the heir to my legacy." The Dark Lord's claim made her shudder. Her beloved son was the Dark Lord's heir, and she feared what the future held for him. She wanted nothing more than for him to grow up in a world of love and peace, shielded from the darkness surrounding his father.
The mention of an unbreakable vow between the Dark Lord and herself made her stomach churn. She had made a desperate plea to protect Ara, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped in a web of manipulation and deceit.
Narcissa wiped away a tear that had escaped from her eye, refusing to let the fear and uncertainty consume her. She was a Malfoy, and she would protect her children with everything she had.
Looking back at Ara, she vowed silently that she would shield him from the prying eyes of the world and the darkness that threatened to consume him. He would always be her Ara, no matter what name the world chose to call him.
Taking a deep breath, she folded the articles neatly and placed them in a drawer. She needed to be strong for her sons and ensure that they would have a bright future, free from the shadows of their father's legacy.
"Narcissa," she heard Lucius call from downstairs, and she composed herself before joining him. She would play her part, but deep down, her heart ached for the life she wished they could have—a life where Ara was just Ara, their precious secret, untouched by the darkness that loomed over them.
July 30th, 1980
Under the weight of a heavy conscience and a heart torn between loyalty and love, Abraxas Malfoy found himself standing outside the nursery where the future of the Slytherin line lay sleeping. The soft moonlight bathed the room, casting a gentle glow on the infant named Sala Zahar. But tonight, Abraxas was determined to take the child away from the family that should protect him.
This moment was his only opportunity as Severus Snape had come to the Dark Lord to let him know of the Longbottom heir's birth. With all the Death Eaters out spying, including Lucius, this was his only chance to get away with kidnapping.
As he stepped into the nursery, he couldn't help but feel a wave of emotions crashing over him. Sala, or Ara, as Narcissa secretly called him, looked so peaceful and innocent in his slumber. Abraxas could almost forget the sinister purpose that brought him here. Almost.
Guilt gnawed at his soul, but the knowledge of the Dark Lord's malevolent plans fuelled his determination. Abraxas couldn't bear the thought of Ara becoming a puppet in the Dark Lord's cruel game.
The internal struggle intensified as he carefully picked up the child. Ara stirred, and Abraxas held his breath, fearing the moment would wake the child and shatter his chance at escape. But Ara settled back into a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the upheaval that would soon envelop his life.
Exiting the manor felt like leaving a part of himself behind, as though he was severing the ties that bound him to his family, his blood. He knew that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back, and he would forever be an outcast. But he was ready to pay that price if it meant protecting Ara.
The air outside seemed to thicken with uncertainty as if nature itself understood the gravity of Abraxas's actions. Holding Ara close, he Disapparated, the sudden sensation disorienting the child, who woke up with a start, blinking confusedly.
Abraxas landed at his secluded safe house, a place that offered temporary sanctuary from the dark forces that sought to claim Ara. His hands trembled as he performed the anti-tracking rune, the tip of his wand glowing a fierce red. With each mark etched onto Ara's skin, he felt a pang of regret and sorrow. He hated that the child had to endure such pain, but it was necessary for his survival.
With each burning sensation, Ara's tiny face contorted in pain, and he let out a heart-wrenching cry. The sound tore at Abraxas's heart, and for a moment, he questioned his decision. But he knew this was the only way to protect Ara from the Dark Lord's reach.
Gently, he cradled the sobbing child, whispering soothing words to comfort him. "I'm so sorry, little one," Abraxas whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise I'll keep you safe. I won't let them use you for their dark purposes."
As the night stretched on, Abraxas held Ara close, comforting him through the pain and fear. The weight of his actions bore down on him, the reality of what he had done settling heavily on his shoulders. He knew he had taken a path from which there was no return, which terrified him.
But amidst the fear and uncertainty, Abraxas felt a glimmer of hope. For the first time, he had taken control of his own destiny, choosing love and protection over blind loyalty. He knew that by kidnapping Ara, he had become an outcast, a traitor in the eyes of his family and the Dark Lord.
Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at the child in his arms, realising the sacrifices ahead. Abraxas vowed to protect Ara, even if it meant standing alone against the darkness. For the sake of Ara and the future of the wizarding world, he would endure whatever came his way.
With the first light of dawn, Abraxas knew there was no turning back. He had taken a leap of faith into an unknown future, guided only by his love for Ara and the hope that he could change the course of fate. His heart heavy yet resolute, Abraxas Malfoy cradled the child in his arms and prepared to face the consequences of his desperate act.
July 31st, 1980
Finding Ara's cot empty upon hearing Draco's cry that morning was not something Narcissa was prepared for. Her heart shook with fear for a split second before she calmed herself down. She had to remember who she was dealing with. The Dark Lord had the capability to come into her home unnoticed and silently take Ara without asking or making a sound. All she had to do was make sure. Certainly, her Ara would be fine and safe in the man's arms.
Narcissa entered the dimly lit chamber, uncertain but hopeful at the Dark Lord's calmness. Perhaps this meant that he had, after all, taken Ara in the night, and the boy was merely resting in his chambers. "My Lord," she said anyways, just to be sure. "I woke up this morning, and Sala's cot was empty. Did you perchance come at night and take him to be with you?"
The fact that the Dark Lord promised her to raise Sala went unsaid, and as if hearing her thoughts, the man said aloud, a little stiffly, "Did I not say you could raise him until he's old enough? Did I not even delve into Lucius' mind to prevent questions as you do? Why would you think I would take him after all the trouble I went through so that you could?"
Narcissa's heart sank at his words, and her previously calm and hopeful composure crumpled. "So he is not with you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He is not," Voldemort said firmly.
"Then," Narcissa continued, her hands and lip trembling, "Sala was kidnapped."
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the revelation. Voldemort's red eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze betraying the depth of his concern. Sala Zahar was no ordinary child; he was the key to fulfilling the prophecy and securing Voldemort's legacy. The mere thought of someone daring to abduct his heir sent a surge of anger through him.
"Who dares to defy me?" Voldemort hissed, the air in the room growing colder. "I will find them, and they will suffer greatly for their foolishness."
Narcissa's heart pounded in her chest, torn between her concern for her son and her fear of the Dark Lord's wrath. She knew that anyone who crossed Voldemort's path with ill intentions would face a fate worse than death.
"We must find him, my Lord," Narcissa said, steeling herself. "We must find Sala before any harm comes to him."
Voldemort nodded, his mind already racing with plans and strategies. He knew that time was of the essence, and he needed to act swiftly to locate his son.
"We will search for him together," Voldemort declared in a rare show of solidarity. "No harm will befall him while I still draw breath."
With those words, the Dark Lord and Narcissa set out on a mission, driven by their shared desire to find Sala Zahar. The fate of the young child hung in the balance, and the wizarding world braced itself for the events that were about to unfold. The hunt for Sala Zahar had begun.
Just as they were about to leave, Severus entered, his eyes wide and pallor a terrifyingly white shade. "The Potters," he said, panting. "They have given birth to their heir."
The expression on the Dark Lord's face tightened. "Thank you, Severus."
Dark Lord's Heir Missing - Sala Zahar Slytherin Disappears Without a Trace!
By Leta Hargreeves | July 31st, 1980
In a shocking turn of events, You Know Who's heir, Sala Zahar, has gone missing, leaving the magical world in a state of alarm and uncertainty. The young child, born with the weight of a prophecy hanging over him, was last seen in the care of Narcissa Malfoy, his mother and wife of prominent Death Eater Lucius Malfoy...
Desperate Search for Sala Zahar Continues – He Who Must Not Be Named Vows Retribution!
By Horatio Fairweather | September 3rd, 1980
The search for the missing heir of You Know Who, Sala Zahar, continues unabated as the days turn into weeks. The disappearance of the young child has sent shockwaves through the wizarding community, prompting a frenzy of speculation and fear...
You Know Who's Inner Circle Scours the Country in Quest for Missing Heir!
By Barnabas Cuffe | November 20th, 1980
As the hunt for the missing heir, Sala Zahar, reaches its third week, He Who Must Not Be Named's most loyal followers are leaving no stone unturned in their relentless search. The enigmatic child, whose birth once made headlines, has become the focus of a widespread investigation as Death Eaters and loyalists rally to fulfil their Lord's orders...
Rumours and Sightings - Sala Zahar Saga Continues!
By Horatio Fairweather | January 5th, 1981
Speculations and sightings regarding the missing heir of You Know Who, Sala Zahar, have spread like wildfire within the wizarding community. With each passing day, rumours of the child's whereabouts circulate, with some claiming to have glimpsed the young boy in various locations across the country...
An Unsolved Mystery - Sala Zahar's Disappearance Perplexes Authorities!
By Leta Hargreeves | March 25th, 1981
Despite tireless efforts from He Who Must Not Be Named's followers and the Ministry of Magic, the whereabouts of the missing heir, Sala Zahar, remain shrouded in mystery. His sudden disappearance has puzzled even the most skilled investigators, leading to questions about the possible motives behind the incident...
You Know Who's Heir Still Missing - A Heartfelt Plea from Narcissa Malfoy!
By Barnabus Cuffe | April 13th, 1981
In an emotional plea, Narcissa Malfoy, mother of the missing heir Sala Zahar, has implored the magical community to come forward with any information that could lead to her son's safe return. The grieving mother, known for her stoic composure, could not hide her distress as she spoke at a press conference today...
The Vanishing Heir - Sala Zahar's Disappearance Remains Unexplained!
By Horatio Fairweather | May 10th, 1981
The vanishing act of Sala Zahar continues to baffle even the most astute magical minds. The once widely celebrated birth of He Who Must Not Be Named's heir has become a haunting enigma, with no concrete leads on his location...
In Loving Memory - Sala Zahar's 1st Birthday Remembered Amidst Ongoing Search!
By Leta Hargreeves | June 5th, 1981
On what would have been his first birthday, the missing heir of You Know Who, Sala Zahar, is commemorated with heartfelt remembrances from his family and well-wishers. Despite the ongoing search, Sala's whereabouts remain unknown, adding an air of sorrow to the joyous occasion that was once anticipated with celebration and hope...
As time passes, the search for Sala Zahar continues, leaving the magical world with unanswered questions and lingering fears about the fate of He Who Must Not Be Named's heir. The mystery of the missing child persists, casting a shadow over the wizarding community, which can only hope for a resolution to this perplexing puzzle.
He Who Must Not Be Named's Heir Still Missing - New Leads Bring Hope!
By Barnabas Cuffe | August 10th, 1981
After months of uncertainty and heartache, there may be a glimmer of hope in the search for the missing heir of He Who Must Not Be Named. New leads have emerged, pointing the investigation in a promising direction. Ministry officials, Aurors, and You Know Who's loyal followers are reportedly following up on credible information that could shed light on Sala Zahar's whereabouts...
False Alarm - The Elusive Search for Sala Zahar Continues!
By Horatio Fairweather | September 3rd, 1981
In a heartbreaking turn of events, what appeared to be a significant lead in the search for Sala Zahar has turned out to be a false alarm. You Know Who's heir, who went missing over a year ago, continues to evade capture, leaving authorities and supporters disillusioned...
You Know Who's Wrath - A Call to All to Find Sala Zahar!
By Barnabas Cuffe | October 15th, 1981
As time goes on and Sala Zahar's disappearance continues, He Who Must Not Be Named himself has issued a chilling ultimatum. In a proclamation, You Know Who demands that every loyal Death Eater and dark creature within the wizarding world join the hunt to find his missing son. Failure to comply with this order will result in dire consequences, demonstrating the urgency of the situation...
It was a cold and lonely night, and for Narcissa Malfoy, there was no solace or joy in the world. Her heart was heavy with the weight of an unbearable loss, and no amount of magic could ease her pain. The world outside might have trudged on, but all she could think of was her child and the emptiness left in his absence.
Alone in the playroom corner, she found a simple doll, a meagre reminder of the little boy she had lost. Her heart ached as she looked at it, realising how much time had passed since she held him in her arms. Narcissa couldn't bear the emptiness in her life any longer. Desperation and heartbreak consumed her.
In her sadness, she thought of a peculiar way to create a semblance of her son. She took one of Ara's dolls and gently placed it on the table, wiping away a tear that escaped her eye, noting with slight indifference that her tears had fallen onto the doll. Ara had many, but she specifically chose the one that had been with him, and he had drooled on. Her hope was that the saliva would help with the likeness of human Transfiguration, even if it was 16 months old.
Desperate to feel connected to him, she mixed a few drops of her blood with the drool. With trembling hands, she pointed her wand at the doll and whispered an intricate human transfiguration spell. The mixture of saliva and blood seemed to spark strange magic as the doll transformed before her eyes.
Slowly, the doll took on features of both Narcissa and the Dark Lord, basing it off on a photo of herself and the man who had helped sire her second son. Merging their likenesses into the form of a child, the dark magic sang to her, filling her heart with something she didn't understand. She stared in awe at the result, a bittersweet smile crossing her lips as she imagined what her son might look like at sixteen months old.
It was not a true representation, but it was all she had, a hopeless attempt to ease the pain of her loss and imagine what could have been. The enchanted doll moved, raising its little hand as if reaching out to her. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if she had her son back.
But reality crashed down on her, and the sorrow returned with renewed intensity. She clutched the doll tightly to her chest, tears streaming down her face. It was nothing more than a temporary relief, a reminder of the emptiness in her heart.
As she held the doll close, a pang of fear ran through her. She feared for her son, wherever he may be, and the unknown dangers he might face. The world outside was cruel and unforgiving, and she couldn't bear the thought of her precious child being lost to it.
Suddenly, a chilling thought struck her – the possibility that she might never see him again, that she might never know what happened to him. The uncertainty gnawed at her heart, and she felt a desperate need to find him, to protect him from whatever dangers he might be facing.
But she was alone and had no idea where to begin looking. All she had was the enchanted doll in her arms, a feeble attempt to fill the void left by her missing son.
As the clock continued to tick, Narcissa clung to the doll, her heart heavy with sorrow and longing. Little did she know that about 100 kilometres away, the boy's father was walking towards his demise, a twist of fate that would change the course of history forever.
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