Welcome to my story!
This is actually a rewrite of my original one.
I've deleted the first now that I finally got to start writing again.
Follow, Kudos, and send love.
To make things clear: This Book is the PREQUEL to my FIRST book, which is 4-6 years (Depending on the character's ages) BEFORE they go to Hogwarts up UNTIL they are accepted. And the THIRD Book will be Hogwarts, First year.
On Fanfiction, I may combine the story into one.
However, on Ao3, I'm going to separate each "part" and keep it as a series since one can easily click "next part" on Ao3, but not on FF.
Chapter One
Hearts Lament
(Bellatrix)
August 3rd, 1979
Bellatrix Black stood before Lord Voldemort, her heart racing as Severus Snape relayed the prophecy to their Dark Lord. Though not the one delivering the information, Bellatrix's mind was a tempest of thoughts, consumed by her intense desire to prove her worth. She absorbed every word, her gaze fixed on the enigmatic figure who held the power she revered.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Severus," Voldemort's voice was a silk thread woven with authority, acknowledging Severus's role. Bellatrix couldn't help but admire how Severus navigated Voldemort's presence, even as her thoughts raced.
"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied, his tone dripping with reverence. Bellatrix felt a surge of excitement and longing. She wished she were the one to deliver such news, to stand in the spotlight of the Dark Lord's attention.
"You may withdraw," Voldemort's words signalled Severus's dismissal. Bellatrix's gaze remained fixed on her master, though her mind began to wander. She allowed herself a moment to let her thoughts roam freely, to consider how she could secure a place of prominence in Voldemort's eyes.
As Severus stepped back, Bellatrix's eyes glazed over, lost in her ambitions. She imagined herself standing at Voldemort's side, his trusted confidante and adviser. Her mind concocted scenarios of whispered conversations and shared strategies, and her loyalty was rewarded with unparalleled power.
"Anything else, my Lord, any task you wish me to undertake, I am your devoted servant," Severus's words reached her ears, but Bellatrix was lost in her reverie. She was engrossed in her vision of becoming indispensable to Voldemort, an integral part of his grand design.
Voldemort's nod broke through her daydream, a reminder that reality still held her captive. Bellatrix's gaze remained locked on the Dark Lord even as Severus departed.
Determination ignited in Bellatrix's heart. She knew what she must do to make herself stand out. She would prove herself beyond measure and make herself a beacon of loyalty that Voldemort could not ignore. She would become the one he turned to for counsel, who held his trust and admiration.
And within her, a hidden ember of desire smouldered. A desire that one day, her loyalty might be rewarded with more than power—a place by Voldemort's side, a partner in his conquests. She clung to this secret hope, allowing it to fuel her devotion as she exited the room with a final, respectful nod.
She could see Barty Crouch Jr standing shiftily in the corner, but the Dark Lord ignored him, waving his arm carelessly to make him leave. She was sure it was only her that saw his glare. Bellatrix was also sure she had mis-seen. There was no way anyone would glower at their Lord.
Bellatrix Black walked away, too, her mind aflame with schemes and dreams, unaware of the path she was setting herself upon. In her heart, she believed that she would rise as the Dark Lord's chosen, a pivotal player in his grand tapestry of darkness.
Just as Bellatrix reached the threshold, Voldemort's voice sliced through the air, halting her in her tracks. "Bellatrix, stay."
She could see again that Barty had halted, his head turned back to look at her, his eyes a desperation she had only seen in herself. Why was he looking at her like that? Bellatrix hesitated for a fraction of a second before she looked away and towards her Lord.
"Bellatrix!"
Startled, Bellatrix turned, her eyes wide with surprise and anticipation. Voldemort's crimson eyes bore into hers, a sensation both exhilarating and unnerving. Her heart quickened as she awaited his command.
"Tell me, Bellatrix, do you trust me?" Voldemort's inquiry was both a question and a test, probing her loyalty.
"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix answered without hesitation, her voice unwavering. Her loyalty to him was unshakable, a truth she would repeatedly prove.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Voldemort's lips. He stepped closer, his fingers lightly grazing her cheek, sending a shiver through her. His touch was tender, a contrast to the terror he inspired.
She heard a heart-wrenching gasp from the doorway, but since the Dark Lord paid no attention, neither did she.
"Good. I have a task for you that will require your utmost devotion," Voldemort's voice held a whisper of intimacy that made Bellatrix's heart race.
Bellatrix's breath caught as Voldemort's fingers slipped through her hair, his touch a caress that spoke of promises unspoken. Her thoughts whirled, the proximity of the Dark Lord igniting a fire within her.
"Before I entrust you with this task, there is something I must do," Voldemort's voice was a low murmur, his gaze unwavering on hers. His fingers trailed down her jawline, his touch both possessive and intimate. With a touch that made her heart race, he cupped her chin, tilting her head slightly.
Bellatrix's breath hitched as a rush of warmth spread through her veins. She met Voldemort's intense gaze, her heart pounding as she sensed the gravity of the moment. His wand lifted, his intentions veiled in the magic that surrounded him.
"Mentis Emendatio," Voldemort's incantation was soft, a melody that resonated with power. Bellatrix's senses tingled as the magic enveloped her, its tendrils weaving through her very being. She felt a sensation akin to warmth and light, a transformation both physical and emotional.
When the spell was over, her Lord leaned down and kissed her. It was over quickly, but she felt like her wildest dreams had come true.
"Tomorrow, again, my darling." He whispered against her ear, and she shuddered.
Each day that followed, Voldemort visited Bellatrix, their encounters laden with moments of intimacy. His fingers traced her features, his touch gentle yet possessive. He held her close, his body a shield against the darkness that sought to consume her.
And only five days later, they made love.
As the days turned into weeks, Bellatrix found herself drawn into a dance of vulnerability and strength. Voldemort's whispered words and lingering touches became a lifeline, grounding her in a reality where only they existed.
Nearly two months had passed since that pivotal day, and Bellatrix stood before a mirror, her reflection a testament to her transformation. The frenzied madness that once consumed her gaze had receded, replaced by a clarity she hadn't known in years.
Bellatrix's thoughts were her own once more, her loyalty to her Lord unmarred, but her mind restored. In the future, she would be assigned a mission, and a special connection with Voldemort would bind her heart to his cause.
(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 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 raised according to his will, indoctrinated with his beliefs and values from the moment of inception. Such a child, conceived through copulation, would be the epitome of loyalty and obedience.
A wicked smile twisted Voldemort's features as he contemplated the possibilities. He revelled in raising a progeny who would unquestioningly follow his every command, an heir who would carry his legacy forward with unwavering devotion. The thought of complete control over another being ignited a perverse satisfaction within him.
He had shared an intimate night with Bellatrix, an encounter that had not been devoid of its own twisted allure. She had come to him willingly, her devotion as genuine as it was fanatical. And in the throes of passion, he had glimpsed a sliver of her soul, a fragment that resonated with his own darkness. It was a connection he dared not acknowledge openly, a secret buried deep within the recesses of his heart.
Voldemort despised the notion of 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. His eyes settled on Bellatrix, his chosen vessel for this dark purpose.
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: Bellatrix. The thought of creating another version of Bellatrix intrigued him, for she had been transformed from a liability into a valuable asset. She would be the one to bear his child, a vessel for his legacy, while being ignorant of her child's true fate.
Voldemort's memories drifted back to that fateful night when their paths had first converged, and he had begun the intricate process of reshaping her psyche. He had sensed her madness, her unchecked and unpredictable nature, and knew that to achieve his goals, he needed her focused, controlled, and loyal to him above all else.
With calculated precision, he had delved into the depths of her mind, erasing the chaotic fragments that threatened to undermine his plans. He had replaced her instability with a clarity of purpose, aligning her thoughts and emotions to his vision of power and dominance. Every aspect of her being had been meticulously restructured to serve his needs, to ensure that her loyalty was pure and absolute.
Voldemort had allowed himself to indulge in the magnetic pull between them, their shared power and desires intertwining in a dance of shadows and secrets. It was a night of whispered promises and stolen moments, a collision of darkness that left its mark on both of them.
And as Voldemort contemplated the vessel that Bellatrix would become, he recognised the bond they shared, an unspoken connection that defied reason and logic. She was his creation, a product of his manipulation and guidance, an embodiment of his vision. The child she would carry would be the culmination of their union, the heir to his ambitions, a being who would carry his essence forward into the future.
Voldemort's lips curved into a satisfied smile as he contemplated the masterpiece he had crafted. Bellatrix was a canvas upon which he had painted his desires, a living testament to his ability to reshape reality itself. With her unwavering loyalty and the child she would bear, Voldemort's dominance was assured, and his legacy was poised to endure for generations to come.
Voldemort's mind drifted back to the night they had shared, a memory he cherished despite its implications. He recalled the intimate moments they had shared, the raw vulnerability and connection between them. Little did he know that from that night, a seed had been planted, an interference and an additive no one had expected.
But now, it was time for them to create his heir.
And so, as the moon cast its pale glow upon the darkened chamber, Bellatrix and Voldemort stood before each other, their robes cascading to the floor, revealing their mostly bare forms. There was a charged atmosphere between them, a mixture of desire, power, and the unspoken knowledge of their intertwined fates.
Bellatrix's heart raced as she met Voldemort's gaze, the intensity of his crimson eyes igniting a fire within her. His fingers brushed against her cheek, a touch that sent a shiver down her spine. With a slow, deliberate motion, Voldemort's hands moved to the buttons of her dress, his gaze never leaving hers as he revealed the porcelain canvas of her skin.
Her breath caught as his fingers trailed down her body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Each touch was a promise, a whispered invitation to surrender to the darkness that bound them. Bellatrix's fingers trembled as they worked to undo the fastenings of his trousers, her heart pounding in anticipation.
The air was thick with tension as they continued to shed their garments, their gazes locked in a silent exchange of longing and understanding. There was a vulnerability in this intimacy, a vulnerability that went beyond the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls.
Finally, as the last article of clothing fell to the ground, they stood before each other, bared to their essence. The room seemed to pulse with the energy of their connection, the boundaries between them dissolving as they stepped closer, their skin brushing against one another.
Voldemort's hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip, his tender and possessive touch. Bellatrix's eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch, her heart racing as their lips met in a kiss that held the promise of unspoken desires.
(Bellatrix)
As their bodies moved together in a slow, intimate dance, their breaths mingled in the space between them. There was a depth to this union that transcended physical pleasure, a connection that spanned the chasm of their respective roles. As their lips met again, Bellatrix couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions.
The passion between them was undeniable, a testament to the unspoken bond they shared. Bellatrix found herself lost in the moment's intensity, her love for the Dark Lord mingling with desire in a way that left her breathless. She willingly surrendered herself to him, not out of fear but out of genuine affection.
Their embrace deepened, bodies pressing against one another, the dark magic surrounding them weaving their fates together further. Bellatrix knew what they were doing was forbidden, but in this stolen moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. The world outside this chamber seemed distant and inconsequential.
After their intimate encounter reached its climax, Bellatrix was enveloped in a sense of contentment she had never experienced before. The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and something she couldn't quite place. Bellatrix's heart skipped a beat as he raised his wand and murmured another spell, directing his magic towards her belly.
She realised that this was the moment, the spell to ensure her pregnancy. However, a strange sensation washed over her as the magic coursed through her. It was as if the very essence of her being rebelled against the darkness that consumed her. She felt a sudden connection, a link between her first encounter with the Dark Lord and this one.
Breathless and dazed, Bellatrix met the Dark Lord's gaze, her heart pounding. His crimson eyes bore into her, questioning and searching. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if she should reveal the truth. But then, a newfound courage washed over her, fuelled by her love for him.
"The first is from our first encounter," she finally spoke, her voice steady despite the gravity of the revelation, "and the second is from now."
The Dark Lord's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering across his features. He didn't press for further details, but Bellatrix knew that this revelation had changed the course of their plans. Two heirs now carried within her, their destinies intertwined with the darkness surrounding them.
As they stood there, their naked bodies entwined, Bellatrix couldn't help but feel a sense of hope amidst the chaos of their world. She had willingly offered herself to the Dark Lord out of love, and in return, she had been granted a place in their children's lives. It was a dangerous path they walked, but it was one that Bellatrix was willing to tread for the sake of their twisted love and the future they sought to shape together.
(Voldemort)
As the echoes of their intimate encounter lingered in the chamber, Bellatrix locked herself in a moment that held vulnerability and determination. The Dark Lord's gaze bore into her, his crimson eyes searching her soul. She knew this was a pivotal moment, a juncture where the fate of their shared future hung in the balance.
"Tell me, Bellatrix," his voice resonated with curiosity and authority, "what do you desire?"
Her heart raced as the question hung in the air, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Bellatrix took a deep breath, her resolve firm, and met his gaze with unwavering determination.
"I desire your trust," she answered, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "I want a place in the upbringing of our children. I want to share the responsibility and have a say in their upbringing."
Voldemort regarded her with an inscrutable expression, his thoughts hidden behind the mask of his regal features. Bellatrix's heart pounded as she awaited his response, hoping he would grant her this request.
"You wish to have a role in raising them," he mused, his tone measured. "To be involved in their lives beyond the womb."
Bellatrix nodded, her gaze never leaving his. She could sense the significance of this moment, the possibility of securing a future she had longed for. She wanted to be more than just a vessel for his legacy; she wanted to be a mother, to shape the minds of their children and ensure they would carry forward his dark vision.
The Dark Lord's silence stretched, a palpable tension filling the space between them. Bellatrix's heart raced, her anticipation mounting as she awaited his verdict. Finally, his lips curled into a semblance of a smile, a gesture that sent a rush of relief through her.
"You shall have your wish, Bellatrix," he declared, his voice carrying a touch of amusement. "You will have your place in their lives to guide them in the ways of our world."
Tears welled in Bellatrix's eyes, a mix of gratitude and overwhelming emotion threatening to spill over. She had dared to ask for what she wanted, and he had granted it. At that moment, she felt a connection deeper than their twisted desires—a bond forged by their shared ambitions and the love that had grown within her heart.
"Thank you, my Lord," she whispered, her voice catching with emotion.
Voldemort's gaze softened slightly, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a surprisingly gentle gesture. "You have proven your loyalty time and again, Bellatrix. I have no doubt that you will serve our children well."
Their eyes locked, and Bellatrix felt a rush of emotions that she struggled to put into words. With the slightest blink of his eyes, he was in her mind. She wanted to tell him how much she cared for him, how her feelings for him had grown beyond mere loyalty. But she knew such sentiments had no place in their world, no room amidst the darkness they embraced. He removed himself from her mind, as light as a feather, and knew he had chosen correctly.
With a final nod, the Dark Lord stepped away from her, his attention shifting. Bellatrix gathered her robes around her, her heart still racing with the weight of their conversation. She knew their path was fraught with danger, and their love was a forbidden secret. Yet, at this moment, she couldn't bring herself to regret the choices she had made.
As they parted ways, their destinies forever intertwined, Voldemort knew Bellatrix was clinging to the hope that their twisted love might lead to a future that defied the odds. And it was a shock to him to find that he didn't think he would mind.
(Bellatrix)
Seven Months Later - May 1st, 1980
The room echoed with Bellatrix's soft cries as she clung tightly to the bedsheets, sweat glistening on her pale forehead. Voldemort stood by her side, his presence a steady reassurance amidst the moment's intensity. A devoted house-elf named Zibbles hovered nearby, his large eyes filled with concern, ready to assist in any way he could.
The room's air was heavy with magic, and the walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient spells. Bellatrix's labour pains were intensified by the physical strain and the weight of her decision months ago – a choice she couldn't take back.
Bellatrix'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.
Voldemort stood there, a silent pillar of support, his crimson eyes fixed on Bellatrix. He had been with her throughout her pregnancy, their connection deepening over time. The intimate moments they shared were a stark contrast to the darkness that consumed his existence, and in those fleeting moments, he felt a sliver of humanity stir within him.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the cries of her firstborn filled the air. Bellatrix's pained expression softened with relief and exhaustion. Zibbles carefully wrapped the baby in a soft blanket, placing him in Bellatrix's trembling arms.
Voldemort's gaze remained fixed on Bellatrix and the newborn in her arms, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. The child was his legacy, an heir that would carry on his name and ideals. Yet, he remained detached, his focus primarily on Bellatrix's well-being.
Bellatrix's heart swelled with love and protectiveness for her newborn son. She looked down at him with his shock of ebony hair. As the cries of the firstborn echoed in the room, Voldemort's attention was drawn to the child for a moment before he nodded to Zibbles and turned to leave the room. He knew his role in this was fulfilled, and his interest waned in the presence of the "spare."
"Good job, Bellatrix." He told her as he left.
The feeling was bittersweet, she thought.
Once the Dark Lord was gone, Bellatrix turned her attention back to the task at hand. Hours later, as Bellatrix's labour resumed, Voldemort sensed the tension in the room growing. 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 in a soft blanket and carefully placed him in Bellatrix's arms.
She thought it was funny that his head was still covered with hair even though he had been born early.
His locks were a fusion of hues, from the warm tones of dirty blond to the inky darkness of black, all interwoven with threads of mahogany that mirrored the intricate layers of tiramisu. But if she mussed his hair the slightest bit, his hair looked a light golden blond, matching his delicate frame. She loved him fiercely.
As she held her second son, Bellatrix's heart was heavy, knowing the circumstances surrounding his birth. Her younger son was smaller and more delicate than the elder, having had significantly less time to grow. Superfetation twins, she thought to herself, realising their birth's rare and unusual circumstances.
With the babies in her arms, Bellatrix felt a surge of love and responsibility. The bond between mother and child was undeniable, and as she looked down at their faces, she knew that her life had changed forever. The path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but she was determined to protect and guide her sons through whatever lay ahead.
She gently cradled them, one in each arm, feeling the weight of her choices and the destiny she had forged. The name of her children still eluded her, but she was confident it would come to her in time. For now, as the cries of her newborns filled the room, Bellatrix's heart swelled with a powerful love, the kind that only a mother could feel.
Bellatrix pondered over the name carefully, her heart torn between her love for her son and the dark alliance she had forged. In her search for the perfect name that would honour both her feelings and the significance of her son's existence, she found herself drawn to the constellations that mirrored the essence of her bond with the Dark Lord.
The Canis constellation, a symbol of loyalty and protection, resonated deeply with Bellatrix's unwavering devotion to the Dark Lord. The twin stars that comprised the constellation represented the dual nature of their connection—intense and fierce yet strangely beautiful. It was as if the very stars whispered secrets of her love and allegiance, urging her to choose a name that encapsulated the power and complexity of their relationship.
Choosing the name "Canis" for her son felt like an acknowledgement of her unyielding commitment to the Dark Lord, a testament to the depths she would go to serve him and protect her children. It symbolised the guardian she had become, fiercely protecting her offspring while embracing her role as a follower of the darkest paths.
As she spoke the name softly, a mixture of tenderness and resolve filled her heart. It was a name that held promises and enigmas and would forever tether her to her chosen destiny. And as she looked into her son's eyes, she knew that he embodied that name—a reflection of loyalty and devotion, born from the intricate threads that connected her with the Dark Lord.
Bellatrix gazed down at her youngest son, cradling him in her arms as she whispered his chosen name. "Lycaon," she murmured softly, her voice reverent and affectionate. The name rolled off her tongue like a whispered secret, a testament to their bond and the path ahead. With a tender smile, she continued, "Lycaon Black, a name that carries the essence of loyalty and protection, just like the constellation that watches over you."
Lycaon's namesake, the Lycaon constellation, painted a vivid picture in the night sky. The stars formed the shape of a formidable and noble wolf, its head held high and its gaze unwavering. This celestial wolf symbolised loyalty, bravery, and the unbreakable bond between kindred spirits. It was a fitting representation of Lycaon's path—a journey of loyalty to his family and the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As Bellatrix looked at her son, she saw the reflection of the Lycaon constellation in his eyes—a promise of protection, a beacon of strength, and a testament to the unbreakable love that bound them together. With a gentle touch, she traced her fingertip over his cheeks, her heart swelling with pride and determination. Lycaon was destined for greatness, and Bellatrix would stand by his side every step of the way.
As Bellatrix continued to study her sons, a particular detail caught her attention—their eyes. Lycaon's eyes were an icy blue that pierced the soul, with flickers of steel that seemed to convey both strength and vulnerability. On the other hand, Canis possessed a deeper shade of ocean blue, hinting at the depths of his emotions and the mysteries hidden within him. It was as if their eyes held the essence of the constellations they were named after, reflecting the intricate tapestry of their destinies.
After feeding and burping the babies, Bellatrix carefully began changing Lycaon's diaper. As she gently lifted his legs, a faint mark caught her attention on his inner thigh. Etched in a light, shimmering glow, the intricate pattern of two runes, Isa and Laguz, seemed to dance before her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the significance of this 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.
Her fingers traced the runes, and a sense of awe and wonder swept over Bellatrix. She couldn't help but feel that destiny had marked her son with something extraordinary. Curiosity and concern swirled within her as she wondered about the future these ancient symbols might foretell for her beloved Lycaon.
With a steadying breath, Bellatrix turned her attention to Canis, her heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety. As she gently unwrapped his blanket, her eyes scanned his form, searching for a similar mark. However, no such symbols met her gaze. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she was missing.
Determined not to dismiss her concern, Bellatrix continued her inspection, her fingers tracing every inch of Canis' delicate skin. And then, there it was—etched onto his neck, right beneath his ear. The intricate pattern of two different runes, Perthro and Nauthiz, shimmered with a light that seemed to hold a world of secrets. The Perthro rune symbolised mystery, fate, and the unknown, while Nauthiz represented need, constraint, and life's challenges. Combining these ancient symbols revealed a potent union of destiny and inner strength.
A mixture of emotions surged within Bellatrix as she realised the significance of these runes for both of her sons. The blend of Perthro and Nauthiz endowed them with the ability to navigate the unknown with adaptability and determination, and this realisation left her heart heavy and resolute. She knew that the path ahead for Lycaon and Canis was marked by these symbols, and she was determined to support and guide them through whatever challenges lay ahead.
May 8th, 1980
One week later
(Bellatrix)
Bellatrix's release from Saint Mungo's marked a new chapter in her life. Carrying the twins in a carrycot, she navigated the bustling streets of London with an air of purpose. The journey to Voldemort's mansion was fraught with tension, knowing that she was carrying his heir. Her heart pounded with anticipation.
As she approached the grand estate, she couldn't help but glance around, ensuring she remained unnoticed. Little did she know, a reporter had caught a glimpse of her and her precious cargo, planting the seeds of curiosity that would soon blossom into a whirlwind of speculation.
Bellatrix managed to slip past the mansion's defences, moving with stealth and grace that only someone with her training could muster. She found herself standing before the imposing figure of Voldemort, her emotions a complex mix of relief and apprehension.
Voldemort regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and reserved interest. "Bellatrix," he purred, his crimson eyes studying her intently. "You've returned."
Bellatrix nodded, her gaze unwavering as she held Canis close. "Yes, my Lord. I bring you your heir."
Voldemort's brow quirked, his interest clearly piqued. He motioned for her to approach and sit on the luxurious sofa. The room was dimly lit, casting an eerie glow on their figures as they settled in, the twins nestled beside Bellatrix.
She held Canis, her eyes avoiding Voldemort's gaze as she spoke. "This is your heir," she stated simply.
Voldemort studied the baby momentarily, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes. He reached out to touch the child's cheek, his long fingers gently tracing the contours of the infant's face. "An heir," he mused, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Bellatrix's heart raced as she waited for his reaction. She fixed her gaze on Canis, not daring to look at Voldemort directly.
"An heir needs a name," Voldemort declared, his voice thoughtful. He turned his attention away from Canis, his crimson eyes fixated on some distant point. "A name that carries power, significance, and legacy."
The room fell into a silence that seemed to stretch on, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the twins. Bellatrix's heart hammered in her chest as she waited for Voldemort to decide. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, his presence a palpable force in the room.
Voldemort's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile as an idea seemed to dawn on him. "Sala Zahar Slytherin," he announced, his voice carrying a sense of finality.
Bellatrix's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flickering to Voldemort as she absorbed the name. Sala Zahar Slytherin. It was a name that held power and significance, evoking the great Salazar Slytherin himself. She nodded, her heart pounding with a mixture of emotions.
As Voldemort's words settled in, Bellatrix couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. The tension that had gripped her seemed to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of amusement. The Dark Lord, a figure of fear and dominance, was now pondering names like a parent contemplating baby names from a Muggle book.
Voldemort's gaze narrowed at her chuckle, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "What amuses you, Bellatrix?"
Bellatrix met his gaze, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "My Lord, I find it curious that even you, in all your power, are faced with the challenge of naming a child."
Voldemort's lips twitched, almost forming a smile before he regained his composure. "Names hold power," he replied cryptically. "They shape destinies."
Bellatrix nodded in agreement, the weight of the moment still palpable. "Indeed, my Lord."
As the scene played out, Bellatrix took a moment to feed Lycaon, her attention divided between her sons and Voldemort. Lycaon's icy blue eyes locked onto her, his gaze piercing her soul. She felt a pang of warmth and protectiveness for him, a feeling she couldn't shake.
On the other hand, Voldemort seemed to ignore Lycaon's presence entirely, his focus firmly fixed on Canis and the weighty decision he had just made. The stark contrast between their reactions reflected the complex dynamics between Bellatrix, Voldemort, and their newly formed family.
As the minutes ticked by, Bellatrix lost herself in a sea of emotions. She had taken a risk, ventured into the unknown, and now sat in the presence of the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever known. The path ahead was uncertain, but she hoped their alliance would secure a better future for her sons and perhaps herself.
The room remained shrouded in silence, the gravity of their choices weighing heavily upon them. At this moment, as their eyes met, they shared an unspoken understanding that their fates were now irrevocably intertwined.
Later:
(Voldemort)
Voldemort retreated to his study, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders. The room was dimly lit, the walls adorned with dark artefacts and symbols of his power. He settled behind his ornate desk, his crimson eyes flickering as he contemplated the significance of the moment.
His mind drifted back to the words of the prophecy, spoken in hushed tones and shrouded in mystery. The prophecy that had brought him to this point entwined his fate with that of the chosen one. His fingers traced the edge of a blackened tome, his thoughts echoing the words that had plagued his thoughts for months.
"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..."
Voldemort's lips curled into a faint, humourless smile. He had defied death itself, casting aside the feeble attempts to thwart his reign. But the uncertainty lingered, a shadow of doubt that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. What if his failsafe hadn't truly severed the chosen one's ability to eliminate him? To kill him? What if the Potter child still held the potential to challenge his supremacy?
His gaze shifted to a quill and parchment on the desk before him. It was time to draft a missive, one that would shape the future he intended to build. With a deliberate hand, he dipped the quill into ink and began to write.
"To my heir, Sala Zahar Slytherin,
The threads of fate have woven us together, bound by blood and destiny. As you come of age, the power that courses through your veins will demand your allegiance to the dark legacy that has been passed down through generations.
You stand on the precipice of greatness, a true heir to the heritage of Slytherin himself. The serpent's wisdom courses through you, a potent blend of ambition and cunning. Know that your purpose is clear, your path unyielding.
Yet, in the depths of this power, there lies a responsibility that transcends even the might of the dark arts. Should the prophecy prove true and a new challenger arises, one who holds the potential to vanquish even the darkest of lords, remember the teachings that have been bestowed upon you.
The strength to command, the art of manipulation, and the unwavering loyalty of those who serve you are the keys to your dominance. But never underestimate the power of the unexpected, the potential for a twist of fate that could alter the course of history.
As you step into the role that has been carved for you, keep in mind that the true heir of Slytherin is one who embraces both power and adaptability. The serpent adapts to its surroundings, strikes when the moment is opportune, and coils its strength to strike without hesitation.
Sala Zahar Slytherin, you are my legacy, my extension into a world that cowers beneath my supremacy. Embrace your birthright and the mark you will leave upon this realm. May your name strike fear into the hearts of those who dare to oppose you.
Yours in darkness,
Lord Voldemort"
Voldemort set down the quill, his crimson eyes studying the missive before him. His hand, once steady, now trembled ever so slightly. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a testament to the gravity of the path he was forging for his heir.
Hesitating once more, he added a second note and then added it to the first. He only hoped his son would have his common sense.
As he sealed the letter with his waxen seal, a small seed of uncertainty took root within him. The prophecy's shadow still loomed, a reminder that even the most meticulous plans could falter in the face of unforeseen events. If the failsafe he had put in place had failed, if the chosen one's fate was not as sealed as he hoped, then it fell to Sala to ensure that the legacy of his reign endured.
Voldemort's gaze shifted to the window, his thoughts consumed by the future that lay ahead. The journey to reshape the world in his image was a treacherous one, fraught with challenges and risks. But as he looked upon the night sky, he knew that the stars held their secrets, and the promise of power and dominion lay within those secrets.
The missive, sealed with dark magic and purpose, would soon find its way into Sala's hands, a testament to the mantle he was born to bear. The future was a tapestry waiting to be woven, and Voldemort's legacy would be etched into its very fabric alongside the fates of his heir and the world that trembled before them.
May 11th, 1980, Evening
(Bellatrix)
Rumours Abound as Evening Prophet Claims He Who Must Not Be Named Has a Son!
Barnabas Cuffe | May 11th, 1980
The wizarding world is thrown into a whirlwind of whispers and conjecture following the sensational publication by the Evening Prophet, which asserts that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has fathered a child. The provocative article, titled "THE DARK LORD A FATHER? A UNION THAT DEFIES DARKNESS," has triggered a cascade of discussions within the magical community, causing many to cast doubtful eyes upon the credibility of these claims.
As recounted in the article, an informant from the Daily Prophet alleges that a child was brought into the presence of You Know Who—carried by none other than Bellatrix Black herself. While the specific circumstances surrounding this occurrence remain concealed, the informant's account hints at a connection between the Dark Lord and the newborn.
The audacity of this revelation has left many in disbelief, considering the Dark Lord's reputation for malevolence and the arcane nature of his existence. The news has set off spirited debates among witches and wizards—some haunted by the prospect of a new generation of darkness, while others regard it as a ploy to manipulate public perception or defame the Dark Lord's stature.
Amidst the chatter, the legitimacy of these assertions remains an open question. Recent controversies have cast doubt on the Daily Prophet's reliability, leading some to cast doubt on its reports. Accusations of falsehoods and fear-mongering are thrown at the paper.
In response to the circulating rumours, He Who Must Not Be Named has maintained an enigmatic silence, refraining from either confirming or denying the claims. His reticence adds to the uncertainty and ambiguity surrounding this alleged event.
The revelation of You Know Who's alleged fatherhood has cast a shadow of uncertainty across the magical community, shrouding it in apprehension for the future. As we await further revelations, one thing is certain—the witching and wizarding world braces itself for whatever veiled truths might emerge.
*Note: The Daily Prophet stands by the accuracy of its coverage, although readers are encouraged to approach the information with prudence and discernment.
You Know Who's Son Revealed: Meet Sala Zahar Slytherin, Heir of Slytherin!
By Horatio Fairweather | May 12th, 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 May 1st, 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 Bellatrix Black, 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 Lycaon Black were "Superfetation twins," sharing a womb but conceived at different times.
According to the source, Bellatrix Black has made an unusual request to You Know Who, asking him to protect the secrecy of Sala Zahar's existence from all. The article suggests that He Who Must Not Be Named has taken steps to 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 Sala Zahar's birth may hold the key to You Know Who's plans, 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 claims. As the situation unfolds, one can only speculate on the implications Sala Zahar's existence may have on the wizarding world and the legacy of He Who Must Not Be Named.
*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 | May 13th, 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 followers of You Know Who, as they now saw the potential for his legacy to continue.
However, You Know Who was quick to assert his control over the narrative. "I will not tolerate invasive curiosity about my son or 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 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.
Bellatrix sat in the dimly lit chamber, a copy of the Daily Prophet spread out before her. Her dark eyes scanned the words on the page, curiosity and amusement playing across her features. The headlines blared with the revelation about her sons, Sala Zahar Slytherin and Lycaon Black. She found the wizarding world's reactions rather entertaining.
As she read the details about Sala Zahar's supposed secrecy and the request she had "made" to the Dark Lord, her lips curved into a faint smirk. She raised an eyebrow, her expression filled with a sense of irony. The notion of her, Bellatrix Black, asking the Dark Lord to keep anything a secret was almost comical. If it were within her control, she would proudly announce her connection to him, challenging anyone to oppose her. But, of course, their dealings were shrouded in secrecy and subtlety.
"Protect the secrecy of Sala Zahar's existence from all?" she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a touch of sarcasm. She imagined herself on a platform, boldly declaring her affiliation with the Dark Lord, daring anyone to confront her. Yet, such grand gestures were incompatible with the clandestine nature of their relationship.
She traced her finger along the edge of the newspaper, her thoughts drifting to the night she had given birth to her sons. The memory blended pain and ecstasy, the awareness of the Dark Lord's presence lending her strength even amid agony. She pondered what the wizarding world truly comprehended about him, about her, and whether they could ever grasp the connection that bound them together.
With a wistful sigh, Bellatrix set the newspaper aside. She leaned back against the plush cushions, her mind whirling with emotions. Pride, excitement, and a touch of frustration mingled within her as she contemplated the future that awaited her sons. She had always been devoted to the Dark Lord's cause, but now that loyalty had taken on a new dimension, a new purpose.
She envisaged the days ahead, observing Canis and Lycaon as they grew; each step was a testament to the potency coursing through their veins. While the world speculated and whispered, Bellatrix was privy to a secret far more tantalising than any newspaper headline could convey.
If anything, the only twinge of vexation that flickered within her was the fact that the Dark Lord hadn't extended his acknowledgement to her second son. It was an irony that didn't escape her—the son he had initially considered to be his heir was now seemingly overlooked. Her lips curved into a wry smile as she contemplated the intricacies of their situation.
But then, she reminded herself, such complexities were characteristic of their enigmatic relationship. The Dark Lord was a master of control, making decisions with a calculated precision that often confounded others. He had chosen Canis, the stronger and earlier-born son, as the heir. The child that had resulted from their first union when his intentions had not yet been crystal clear.
She closed her eyes momentarily, letting the memories of that fateful night wash over her. Canis' conception had been an unintended consequence, an accident. And yet, that accident had borne fruit in the form of a child imbued with a different kind of strength. It was as if fate had interceded, reminding them that unpredictability could thrive even in their world's shadowy realms.
As she opened her eyes once more, Bellatrix's gaze drifted to a portrait of the Dark Lord that adorned the wall. A sense of fondness mingled with her exasperation as she considered their complex bond. He was a man of many layers, and their interactions, while laden with power dynamics, also carried a depth of connection that transcended the constraints of the wizarding world.
With a sardonic smile, Bellatrix picked up the newspaper again, rereading the articles that attempted to decipher the enigma of Sala Zahar Slytherin. She knew that the wizarding community's speculations and interpretations could never truly capture the essence of her sons or the complexity of their existence. And as the world around her buzzed with gossip and conjecture, she revelled in the knowledge that her journey with the Dark Lord had given rise to something far more remarkable than any headline could convey.
(Barty)
July 30th, 1980
Under the crushing weight of a shattered heart, torn between unrequited love, loyalty, and a burning desire for revenge, Barty Crouch Jr 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 infants named Canis and Lycaon. But tonight, Barty was determined to take the children away from the family that should have protected them.
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, this was Barty's only chance to get away with kidnapping.
As he stepped into the nursery, he couldn't help but feel a tidal wave of emotions crashing over him. Canis and Lycaon looked so peaceful and innocent in their slumber. Barty could almost forget the sinister purpose that brought him here. Almost.
Grief, heartbreak, and jealousy gnawed at his soul. He had yearned for the Dark Lord, longed for his affection, his attention, his touch. But the chance of ever being the man's lover went out the window when the Dark Lord chose Bellatrix. It was a pain that twisted his heart, a wound that refused to heal.
The internal struggle intensified as he carefully picked up both children. They stirred, and Barty held his breath, fearing the movement would wake them and shatter his chance at escape. But they settled back into a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the upheaval that would soon envelop their lives.
Barty had spent the last three months secretly getting close to Bellatrix, watching as she cared for the children. He had observed from a distance, unable to distinguish Canis from Lycaon, wrapped up in their blankets. It was this uncertainty that fuelled his decision to take both children to ensure he had the right one.
Exiting the manor felt like leaving a part of himself behind, as though he was severing the ties that bound him to the past, his desires, his pain. 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 getting back at Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. If anything, it would be easy to sidle himself back in with the others. Pretending was always what came easiest to him. He could just find a Muggle babysitter whenever the Dark Lord called. It could be that easy, he mused.
The air outside seemed to thicken with uncertainty, as if nature itself understood the gravity of Barty's actions. Holding the children close, he Disapparated, the sudden sensation disorienting them, and they woke up with a start, blinking confusedly.
Barty landed at his secluded safe house, a place that offered temporary sanctuary from the dark forces that sought to claim the children. His hands trembled as he performed the anti-tracking rune, the tip of his wand glowing a fierce red. With each mark etched onto their skin, Barty felt a pang of regret and sorrow. He hated that the children had to endure such pain, but it was necessary for his revenge.
With each burning sensation, their tiny faces contorted in distress, and they let out heart-wrenching cries. The sounds tore at Barty's heart, and for a moment, he questioned his decision. But he knew this was the only way to make Bellatrix and the Dark Lord suffer.
Gently, he cradled the sobbing children, whispering soothing words to comfort them. "I'm so sorry, little ones," Barty 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, Barty held Canis and Lycaon close, comforting them 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, Barty felt a glimmer of satisfaction. For the first time, he had taken control of his own destiny, choosing revenge over blind loyalty. He knew that by kidnapping Canis and Lycaon, he had become an outcast, a traitor in the eyes of his past and the Dark Lord.
Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at the children in his arms, realising the sacrifices ahead. Barty vowed to make Bellatrix and the Dark Lord pay, even if it meant standing alone against the darkness. For the sake of revenge and the future of the wizarding world, he would endure whatever came his way.
With the first light of dawn, Barty knew there was no turning back. He had taken a leap of faith into an unknown future, guided only by his desire for revenge, his heartbreak, and the hope that he could change the course of fate. His heart heavy yet resolute, Barty Crouch Jr cradled the children in his arms and prepared to face the consequences of his vengeful act.
As the sun began to rise, casting its soft golden light upon the world, Barty's mind raced with uncertainty. He had achieved his revenge, but the path ahead was shrouded in darkness. What lay in store for him and the stolen children, he could only guess.
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