Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

_I think sometimes that my mother must have known what I would become. My very name is too fitting to have been chosen coincidentally. What other name could I have had, what other title, that would have let the world know who and what I was. The Bride of Death, I have been called. It's true, in many ways. It doesn't matter that I love him, or that I am the only being he has ever loved in return. To the rest of the world, he is the darkest wizard to have ever lived. And I am doomed to love him in spite of the horrors I know him to have committed, the cruelty that he is capable of, the darkness that threatens daily to consume his soul. He is the King of Hell, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He is Voldemort, and damned as they say I am for it, I wouldn't have any other._

_I am Persephone Aurora Black Riddle. I am daughter, wife, mother. This is my story. I am the woman who loved Lord Voldemort._

* * *

I awoke feeling cold. The room was dark, but I could just make out a line of yellow light below the door. I turned over, seeking the warmth of my husband, only to discover that the bed was empty. This alarmed me into wakefulness. He rarely allowed anyone to drag him from his bed once he retired for the evening; something must have happened.

"_Nagini_?" I hissed into the darkness. I saw a dark image stir on the floor.

"_Yes mistress_?"

"_Where is Tom_?"

"_I do not know mistress. He only told me to stay here with you._"

I got out of bed and put on my slippers.

"_Well we're going to go and find him._" A wave of my hand lit the candles and the room became visible. The adder uncoiled herself in what could have been a lazy stretch. Her forked tongue slid from her mouth, testing.

"_You are nervous, mistress._"

"_Yes, Nagini. I will feel better when Tom comes back to bed,"_ I replied, pulling my robe around me. In my hand, my wand hummed in a soothing manner.

I made my way into the hall and was surprised to find no one outside the door to our chamber. There was always a guardian in front of our rooms. The sense of unease that had driven me from bed grew heavy in my belly. We continued down the corridor, which remained uncomfortably empty, and down the flight of stairs that led to the ground floor. Past the kitchens, the library, the dinner hall, I came to the foyer. Here, finally, there were people.

Men and women in white masks and black cloaks were darting in and out of my husband's study. Cracks of apparition resounded in the marble hall as more and more of them arrived. Some paused and bowed as I moved towards them, others were preoccupied with whatever tasks they had been set and completely ignored me. I pushed my way through the crowd of bodies and into the study.

"_Tom, what is going on_?" I demanded, hissing in the snake's tongue. My husband looked up from his desk. Surrounded on all sides were his closest followers, the only Death Eaters allowed to be unmasked in his presence. My Aunt came over to me, tsk-ing in concern.

"Seph, you ought to be in bed."

"No Bella," I said, brushing her off. "What is happening? Why are all of the Death Eaters here?"

"_There is a spy,_" my husband hissed. "_Dumbledore will be on our doorstep within the hour._" Ice gripped my heart at his words.

"_Who?_"

"_I don't know yet. Right now we must defend ourselves. But I promise you that whoever it is will be very soon regretting their existence._" I saw a coldness in his eyes that brought many to their knees in fear, and knew that the traitor would have a long and painful death. He looked away from me and back at the papers covering his desktop. "Lucius, I want you and Nott monitoring the perimeter. Take as many as you need. The wards should hold for at least an hour. Tell me the moment you feel them weaken. We must try to take down as many as we can while the wards protect us. After that you will all return here to the main entry where we will– "

"Surely you aren't thinking of staying here?" I interrupted. "With Dumbledore and who knows what army –"

"Of course I shall remain. I will not abandon those who are loyal to me. You, however, will be leaving immediately. Take Nagini and go with your Aunt Narcissa to one of the Malfoy estates. I will collect you myself or send someone when we have reached a secure location."

I began to protest, but found myself being steered out of the room by the Black sisters. My husband returned to his instructions; the men and women around him nodded to his orders, and moved quickly to obey. They were all willing to die for him. And yet, there was a traitor in their midst. Who had betrayed him? Were they in the manor now, waiting to strike him down during the battle?

"_Please Tom, it's not safe for you here. Not with a spy among us_," I insisted, Nagini hissing in agreement.

"I have made my decision Persephone, and you will obey it," he returned harshly. I remained defiant in the doorway, body rigid with fear and anger. The tip of my wand sparked with green and gold energy.

"If you stay, I will stay." Many of his followers looked up at that, forgetting that they were supposed to keep their eyes downcast and pretending to not hear the argument going on between their Lord and the one person who wouldn't be killed for it.

At that moment there was a monstrous crash resounded above our heads. The earth beneath our feet trembled and quaked, pictures and books crashing from the shelves. I felt myself stumble and fall, Nagini wrapping herself around me to provide shelter from the falling debris. Flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling. It lasted only a few seconds. I heard someone profaning in the hall.

"They're here!" my husband cried, his voice magically magnified. "Get to the lawn and defend the manor. Leave none alive!" Bodies scrambled, wands were drawn, magic crackled in the air. My husband and his inner circle rushed out into the foyer, chanting the words to strengthen the wards and repair what damage had been done. He paused only for a moment, putting an arm about my waist and drawing me close. I looked up into his crimson eyes and for the first time I saw fear in them.

"Get out of this place immediately. I will come and find you," he said, before pressing his lips to mine. "_I promise._"

"_Be safe_," I said to his retreating form and found myself running up the grand staircase, the massive black adder slithering after me. Another blast shook the manor, and I had to throw myself to the floor to avoid the chandelier that came crashing down on the stair. Scrambling, I continued up the stairs to the first landing, and ran to my room. I would need my traveling cloak, my broom, and my emergency potions kit. As I hurriedly dressed and collected these items, I found myself praying. 'Please God,' I thought, 'please, return my husband to me.'

"_Mistress, hurry!"_ Nagini hissed, facing the door of the room, ready to fight any threat to come through the door. The wards had not failed yet, but I could feel them weakening. Dumbledore must be out there – he would be the only light wizard powerful enough to tear them down. It was certainly not Dumbledore that I feared. Though he was the only wizard alive who matched my husband in strength, he was not unjust. No, it was the mob that I feared. The wizarding world as a whole, controlled by the ministry's lies and that rag of propaganda that they called a newspaper, the Daily Prophet. They would tear Tom apart if they got their hands on him.

'No,' I thought, 'not Tom. It's Lord Voldemort they want.'

"_Mistress, please!_" Another quake, and I felt the wards fall. I knew that I should leave, apparate myself and Nagini to one of the many safe houses Tom owned. But I could not bring myself to flee while he was on the floor below, about to engage in battle. I heard shouts below me, and made up my mind. There was no way in Hell that I would let him fight without me. I practically ran for the door, only to find myself trapped in the coils of an irate, ten foot long black adder.

"_Let me go! I have to go to him!"_

_"He told us to leave the manor."_

_"I can't leave him, Nagini, I can't! He doesn't even know about –"_

The door burst open then. A man with amber eyes threw a spell at Nagini, stunning her. The weight of her limp body was almost suffocating. I cried out, catching the attention of the wizard. He came around the other side of her body and stared at me, eyes wide.

"Harry?"

**A/N: W**ell, here's my newest story. I hope you all like it and enjoy this while I work on my other fics. For those of you who have not, please go read the update posted in my profile.

Some of this story will be canon, some will not. I am taking great liberties with Ms. Rowling's work, and if there are any questions that won't be answered during the course of the story, I will gladly answer them.

**Don't forget to review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Much of my childhood was spent in isolation. I was allowed only limited contact with others – my Aunt Narcissa, Cousin Draco, Aunt Bella, and Nagini. I did not see much of Tom until I was well on my way to womanhood._

_I knew very little of current events in our world, and even less of my importance to it. What I do know of the night on which I was born, I have pieced together from pensieve memories and my Godfather's recollection. As well as what I have made of it, here is what happened._

* * *

"Smells great in here, Lils."

"Thanks, Padfoot," Lily replied, her voice carrying into the dining room over the sounds of Sirius rifling through the cutlery drawer. "You really didn't have to come babysit me. I'm a big girl, you know."

"Rubbish, Lils. I'm not going to let my best mate's pregnant wife eat dinner alone. Very pregnant, I might say. When is that kid going to pop?"

"Any day now."

Sirius entered the kitchen, eyeing the pan of biscuits that Lily was removing from the oven. Magical means were convenient for a bachelor who worked long hours and had absolutely zero skill in the culinary arts, but nothing he could conjure would be anywhere near Lily Potter's made from scratch beef stew and biscuits.

"You're positively magical, Lils, d'you know that?" Sirius said dreamily, inhaling the aromas issuing from the steaming pot on the stove. Lily flashed him a smile and gave the food another stir with her big wooden spoon. 'Works wonders, that spoon,' Sirius thought to himself, 'and stings like Hell.' All of the Marauders knew to keep from irritating the red head while she was in the kitchen; the only possible outcome of any mischief would be a sharp rap on the hands courtesy of that spoon.

"Do you know when James will be home?"

Sirius felt his grin fall a moment before he put on (what he hoped to be) a roguish grin.

"What Lils, tired of me already? And I thought that I was the smart, good looking, funny one of the lot – "

"I'm being serious – "

"How can you be Sirius if I'm Sirius? That doesn't make any sense at all –"

"Padfoot." She put a hand on his arm and looked up at him with her emerald eyes. Sirius sighed in defeat, shoulders slouching dramatically.

"I don't know. He's on ministry guard tonight. They're worried about someone trying to assassinate the new minister."

Lily snorted, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "And that would be a bad thing? Have you heard the crap Fudge said during his inauguration? The man's a bigot of the worst kind and you know it. 'We must overcome the lesser elements of our world to preserve human magic.' Human magic, that's what he said. He would see all magical creatures at the feet of wizards, slaves practically!"

"And what is the alternative, Lils? Voldemort?" Sirius cracked a smile, but the look on his friend's face worried him. "You've got to be joking, Lils, he… Did you hear about the spell he's concocted for his enemies?" he asked, following her as she stormed out of the kitchen. "I've seen good Aurors come back with their bones burnt away from the inside. And for what? Saying his bloody name?! The press has started calling him 'You-Know-Who', too afraid of what might happen if they print it."

Lily turned away with a look that Sirius didn't quite understand, and planted herself in a chair at the dining room table.

"Lily." He knelt before her, taking her small hands into his calloused ones. "Lils. Voldemort would see us in a civil war, you know that. A war that could only end in the deaths of thousands of wizards. Fudge may be a fool, but he's just a politician. The wizarding world won't accept the views he's preaching, not once they realize what his true opinions are. People are smarter than that. He gets too radical, they'll just vote him out next election."

"And how many will lose their rights in the process?" she asked in a small voice. "How long before Moony is an animal to them?"

Sirius recoiled from her. "Don't bring Remus into this, Lily," he growled.

"Why not?" she demanded, "If the Registration Act passes, he won't be able to keep his condition private. What happens when he decides to get a new job, or move to a new flat? Will people see Remus Lupin the man or the wolf?" Her voice trembled, and he knew that she was fighting back tears. As quickly as it had overcome him, the anger waned. Sirius moved over to her, to one of his best friends, and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She was so delicate, even with her belly swollen; he rested his chin on the crown of her head.

"We have to have faith, Lils," he whispered. "Things are cocked up now, sure, but do you think that the Wizengamot would let anything terrible happen? Would Dumbledore?"

"Of course not," she replied, not quite convincingly. Sirius decided not to comment. "I'm just so scared. All of the time, and I – you know I can't talk to James about any of this. He goes out there and fights for a man he doesn't believe in, against an enemy that he doesn't know. I… I have to be strong for him."

"We all do, Lils. We have to be strong for each other."

They stood like that for a moment, each lost to their own thoughts. Finally, Lily pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She faced Sirius with a weak smile.

"The food will get cold if we don't eat it."

"Are you a witch or not girl?" Sirius asked, following her back to the kitchen. He threw a Stay-Fresh charm haphazardly at the island. The spell missed the pan of biscuits completely, hitting instead the vase of daisies on the sideboard. The flowers, which had begun to brown at the tips, brightened, their stems green and firm.

Lily couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a menace, mutt. Take these, and be gone from my kitchen." Smiling, Sirius took the proffered pan with a flourish and danced out the door, laughter following him.

'And Remy says I don't know how to be sensitive,' Sirius thought smugly. 'I am Mr. Sensitivity, I –'

A shattering sound came from within the kitchen.

"Sirius!"

"Lily?" he called, running back to the kitchen.

He didn't see her at first. A cry came from the other side of the island; she was on the floor, clutching her belly, face screwed up in pain. The front of her robes looked wet.

"This baby's coming, Sirius," she said, words panted from between clenched teeth. "Call Poppy!"

* * *

Four hours later found Sirius pacing the living room, worrying at his lower lip. He had heard a scream, louder than the rest, not moments before. Now, all was silent upstairs.

"Sirius?" He looked expectantly at the Mediwitch. She smiled, a warm look that he remembered well from his days as a schoolboy. "Your godchild is beautiful."

He closed his eyes and let the words sink in. A silly grin made its way onto his face.

"Could you go up and watch her while I take care of Lily? She's done very well this evening. They both have." He couldn't even speak, just nod exuberantly. "Well, come on then."

She took him upstairs to the door of what had been the Potter's guest room. Now, it was painted with soft, butter-colored walls; little pink lions chased golden snitches around the ceiling. (That had been Sirius's contribution to the nursery. Quidditch never began too early, after all. Though, Lily had just rolled her eyes and sighed when he and James had tried to explain this to her.)

And there, nestled against the overstuffed pink lion that James had named Godric, was a baby. Sirius found himself just staring. He barely registered Poppy leaving the room.

Her nose was so tiny, upturned at the end in a pixie-ish way, like her mother. Soft black hair curled gently all over her head. Little fists, with tiny pink fingers, were wrapped around the lion's paw. Her chest rose and fell in little puffs, and she sighed in her sleep.

"Hello, Baby," he whispered, running a finger over her delicate cheeks. "I'm Sirius, but you can call me Padfoot." He chuckled softly. "I bet you won't be able to say that for a while, though, huh kiddo? Well, how about 'Siri' instead? At least, until you're older." His goddaughter turned her faced toward his fingers, sighing. "Siri it is then. Glad you like it."

'This is love,' Sirius thought. 'This little cub is going to have her way with all of us.'

She stretched out, and a little pair of feet emerged from the blanket. Sirius caught sight of a mark on the top of the girl's left foot. Curious, he lifted the blanket.

And his heart leapt out of his chest.

It was a perfectly shaped star, with seven points radiating from the center. Its green was so dark, it was almost black. Sirius knew the mark well; an identical symbol decorated his right hip. It appeared on all of the children of the Most Noble House of Black.

'How?' he thought, bewildered. 'Merlin knows I would never – God, what will James say? Would he think…'

"We'll need to wake her soon." The voice startled Sirius so terribly that he jumped.

"Poppy," was all he could manage.

"I'm going to go back to the castle now, but I'll returning in a few hours to check on them. If you need anything, just send word through my floo in the Hospital Wing." Sirius nodded mechanically, but the Mediwitch was preoccupied, running her wand over the baby.

"Just beautiful," she said, seemingly satisfied with her scans. "Good evening, Sirius." She bustled out of the room.

Sirius waited to hear the crackle of floo fire before he moved. He all but ran down the hall, bursting into the bedroom. Lily was lying on the bed, eyes closed, sheets fresh and her hair tidy. She looked at him sleepily.

"Padfoot?"

"Whose is it, Lily?"

"What are you –?"

"James is NOT the father of that baby, Lillian. Who is?!" he demanded. She seemed to consider him a moment, sitting up from the cushions. Her green eyes seemed to be searching for something.

"Do you trust me, Sirius?" she asked, finally.

"Of course, but –"

"Do you trust me enough to Bind you?" He blinked, confused. "I will tell you what you want to know, Padfoot. At the end of it, if you wish, I will Obliviate the memory. It will be your choice. But I need you to hear all of it first. And you will need to allow me to put a Body Bind on you. I cannot trust your anger around my daughter."

He nodded his consent. Sirius felt the spell grip his limbs and lock them in place. But the magic wasn't overbearing – he could break it if he needed to. He relaxed a fraction at this gesture of good faith.

"My child," Lily began, taking a deep breath and looking him dead in the eye, "is the daughter of Regulus Black."

The name brought a flood of memories, of a dark haired, blue-eyed boy who shared his face. His heart clenched and if he had been able to cry, to fall to the ground and hug his body into a little ball of shivering remorse, he would have. But the spell kept him upright and only a few tears escaped down his cheeks.

"Sirius, look at me." He had not realized that he had clenched his eyes shut.

"Sirius?" Slowly, he nodded, the spell allowing him as much, and blinked a few times to clear his eyes.

"We met in school," she began again. "He was a friend of Severus's. We were in the same year, a year behind you lot." Sirius, of course knew this. He remembered the worst fight he had had with his brother, for defending Snape. Sirius had accused him of being dark, the perfect Black, and declared that he could not associate with snakes. He would not speak with his brother for four years.

"We started seeing each other at the end of fifth year." Sirius's eyes widened in surprise.

'That early?' he thought. 'How could we not have known?'

"We… well, we kept it a secret, obviously. I mean, what would your parents have done if they had found out? A Gryffindor and a mudblood? They would've killed him." Lily was wiping furiously at her eyes, as though angry at her tears.

"Do you remember when we first heard about Voldemort? A handsome, charismatic wizard who promised us change? I first saw him when he came to Hogsmeade in my second year. Regulus went to rallys when the election came 'round, protested in front of the ministry… Well, you know that. What you don't know is that I was with him all of those times." She laughed, a sad little sound, at the look on his face.

"It seems so strange, now. But I believed in the cause. We wanted to preserve magic, all of it. Dark, light, wizards and centaurs and house-elves. We wanted to teach our children their history, to bring magical children into this world to live even if they were born in the muggle one. We wanted a new ministry, one for the people, not the politicians.

"It was a beautiful dream, I suppose." She paused, lost in her own memories.

Sirius remembered. All of the pureblood families ahd been debating the issues – Voldemort appealed to many of them. Others, including Sirius's own parents, thought that the man needed more emphasis on tradition, the value of the social classes that kept 'superior' wizards in power.

"One night - it was over Easter in our seventh year – Regulus came to me, excited and going on about this great opportunity. Our friend Severus had become part of a special club, a group of Voldemort's greatest supporters. Regulus had gotten to attend a meeting and wanted me at the next. I was awed, flattered by the opportunity to not only meet the man himself, but to stand next to Regulus, before all of his friends, and know that I belonged.

"I was… charmed by Voldemort. We all were. I was young, too young, and hopeful and too much of a naïve schoolgirl to realize that Voldemort's message had begun to change. It wasn't about magic heritage anymore; he began to say that the wizarding world needed to be cut off from the muggle one entirely. Over the next few years, this changed to 'the muggles will come after us if they know of our existance', and finally, what if we wiped all muggle influence from our world all together? Why not eliminate the weak link? Muggleborns became tainted wizards, who threatened our world." She had to stop here. The tears fell freely now, and she didn't bother brushing them away. Her arms were hugged tightly to her body, protecting her from some invisible cold.

"Regulus and I remained loyal to him up until two years ago. We tried to talk to him, like so many others, get him to return to the old ways… For different reasons, we both felt that Lord Voldemort was no long the man we wanted to fight for. For myself, I disliked the growing violence of his protests, the attitudes of his new followers – yes, they were followers by then, as he'd fashioned himself to be a Lord – and his increasing desire for power. For Reg, well, his Lord asked for the one thing that he couldn't give.

"Voldemort approached me to spy on Dumbledore. He was convinced that the man was trying to have him murdered. I had remained friends with my Gryffindor yearmates, and it wasn't difficult to get in touch with James. He still felt something for me, after nearly three years."

Sirius had thought that there was little else that would shock him about Lily Evans, until this. Was it all an act then? Had she ever loved James? Had she been with Regulus the whole time she had been married? Could he, Sirius, hate her for betraying his best friend and still love her for the sake of his younger brother?

She watched him, as if listening to his inner monologue. She twisted her gold wedding band in an absent-minded fashion.

"I do love James, Sirius. Just not the way I loved Regulus. I need you to understand that." She stared some more, before continuing. "I agreed to my assignment, but by then I was look for protection. The Dark Lord was growing more vicious, and more paranoid. I needed to know that we would have a place to turn to.

"Regulus found… something. I'm not sure what – he never had the chance to tell me. But it scared him. He told me that he was going to do something dangerous. That was nine months ago. A week later, we found his body. I knew that Voldemort had killed him. I went to Albus and confessed everything. That's when he offered me the post at Hogwarts, as protection from Voldemort and his spies.

"Not soon after, I realized that I was pregnant. I didn't know if it was by Regulus or James. I've been working as Potions Mistress for the school, as you know. I'm just so afraid, Padfoot. I'm afraid of the Dark Lord. I'm not proud of everything that I've done in my life, and if I die then at least I'll be with Regulus again. But what about James? What about my daughter?" She began crying in earnest, and it seemed as though she could not longer speak.

Sirius felt a tingling sensation and his body relaxed, free of the magical binding. He did not go to her, as he might have done not even half an hour before. But he couldn't bring himself to rage at her, either. And two doors down the hall lay a tiny baby girl, his goddaughter and niece.

"Does he know?"

"Who?"

"Voldemort? Does he know that the child might be Regulus's?"

"No," Lily replied, sniffling. "He didn't know that we had continued to see each other after my marriage to James. Forbade it, even."

"The he isn't going to know," Sirius said, a hard glint in his eye. "I will keep your secret, Lily, to protect my niece. But know that I will never be able to trust you after this. Never completely."

Lily nodded. It was fair, and beneath all of it, Lily was a Gryffindor and lions valued fairness.

"Do you have the birth certificate?"

* * *

_Officially, in the eyes of the Ministry, a child was born on July 31__st__, 1980. Her parents were James Angus Potter and Lillian Grace Evans. Her Godfather was Sirius Orion Black, who was listed as the witness to the birth. Six pounds, four ounces, eyes green, hair dark brown. Her name was Harriet Jamie Potter._

_On the same night, a name appeared in the annals of the Black Family Registry. Persephone Aurora Black, to be known as Harriet J. Potter, daughter of Regulus Arcturus Black and Lillian Grace Evans. Family mark on the left ankle. My name appeared in dark green ink._

_I would not know this until I was seven years old._

* * *

**A/N: **Well, here it is! Sorry, I will normally be updating weekly, but I had exams this morning that I spent all weekend working on and ran out of time to post. I hope that you all like this. My goal was two things:

1. To show a Sirius who was once much lighter than we know him. A young man with a lot of pain but a lot of heart as well.

2. To portray the political movement that might have been taking place during Voldemort's first rise to power. Almost in a similar manner to Hitler - a man with a lot of charisma who charmed people, who appealed to their sense of injustice, and who promised to fix the problems in their world. Just how does that man become dark? How is he redeemed? Can that even happen? This is a main theme that will occur throughout the story, but I want to know what you all thought of it.

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

_The story that I have been told indicates that the first year of my life was a happy one. I had loving parents, who doted on their first child, and equally attentive extended family, and wanted for nothing. I know that we lived in London, in a tidy brick row two blocks from the ministry. I have seen pictures of a pretty baby, always in someone's arms, laughing at the antics of the adults around her._

_The world, however, was becoming a very dangerous place. Voldemort's followers adopted the name Death Eater; they donned stark, featureless white masks and wore heavy black robes. When one of them came for you, it might have been any one of them, perhaps even Voldemort, himself. Witches and Wizards began disappearing, stolen from the beds in the dark of night. Most of those who were lost came from pureblood families but had married half-bloods or muggleborns. James and Lily Potter became worried that they would soon become targets as well._

_Two months before my first birthday, the family went into hiding in the quiet village of Godric's Hollow. Dumbledore had learned that the Death Eaters were seeking James. What none of them realized was that Voldemort was not hunting them, as he had so many other blood traitors. Voldemort was seeking out James Potter because he was in possession of something that the Dark Lord wanted very much – namely, a daughter, born as the seventh month died, whose parents had thrice defied him._

* * *

The Black Library was not typically a place that one would look for Sirius Black. Considering he had been blasted off the family tapestry in his school days, Sirius had not set foot in Grimmauld Place at all for nearly ten years. But Walburga Black, his mother, had finally died two years ago, over the "heart ache" of losing her "favorite" son.

'As if that woman had ever had a heart to begin with,' Sirius thought bitterly to himself. She hadn't shown any interest in Regulus until she thought it could be used to guilt Sirius into returning home. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

Luckily, the old buzzard hadn't had time to curse too much of the place. Sirius was still Head of the Family, after all, so it wasn't as if the blood wards would keep him out. Not that his mother hadn't tried, of course, to disinherit him. But when Sirius's father had died, he had been just a boy, and his title as Heir had not at the time been questioned. Walburga may have been a Black, but she was merely the daughter of a second son of the Moste Noble House, and had no power whatsoever in the magic that governed the Family Heritage. And so, the gloomy townhouse was his, in all its dark glory. At least that miserable old elf had gone to serve his eldest cousin, Bellatrix.

"Nasty little bugger. Never liked him anyhow."

"Who, Paddy?"

"Kreacher."

"Oh. Have you found it yet?"

"No."

"Back to work then."

"Slave driver," Sirius muttered.

"I heard that, mutt."

"Damned bloody werewolf with his damned bloody hearing," he grumbled in reply. He heard his friend bark out a laugh. Sirius went back to the shelf before him. He still had no idea what Lily wanted with the old diary of Great Aunt Ophelia. The old bat had died nearly three centuries before – who cared about her now? Of course, Sirius remembered having to read her "memoir," and those of every other Black who had thought themselves important enough to leave a history behind to torment their descendants with. So, pretty much all of them.

The only thing that Sirius could honestly remember about any of them were the names (which were so often repeated that if you just guessed, most of the time you'd be correct) and that all of the Blacks were, to some extent or another, completely insane. He had kept this thought to himself during his history lessons.

At the back of the uppermost shelf, he found it. A small tome, as Black memoirs went, in blue leather. At first glance, it looked as if the leather bindings would crumble with age, but it was solid in his hands. Thank Merlin for magic.

Sirius leapt off the ladder. He was at the very back of the library, and it was a bit of a maze back to the main part of the room. The library did take up most of the second floor; Sirius was just glad that he hadn't had to search any of the heirloom cupboards… he was quite sure that many of the items collected by his relatives over the centuries were not of the light, fun-loving variety.

"Got it," he called, emerging from the shelves. Remus sat at the large ebony desk, stacks of books and rolls of parchment nearly obscuring his friend from view. Lily came from another row of shelves, carrying yet more ancient volumes. She deposited her stack on the table, and reached for the proffered Dairy of Ophelia Black. She examined the cover, and, once satisfied, began thumbing through the pages.

"What is it that we're looking for, again?"

"Prophecies concerning the Dark Lord," Remus replied, looking up for a moment.

"And that is important because why?"

"Because he's looking for them," Lily replied. "Dumbledore's man says that the Dark Lord is searching for a prophecy that mentions a red-eyed snake. For now, he knows only that it concerns the Voldemort, but not the wording of the prophecy itself." She pulled out a chair, sat at the desk and reached for one of the rolls of parchment. "If we can find it first, we'll be able to keep the knowledge from getting into the wrong hands."

"But we don't even know what the bloody thing says. It could predict that old Voldie is going to get a new pair of wooly socks at Christmas." Both of his friends shot Sirius a withering look. "All right, all right. If he can't find this thing, though, then how are we supposed to?"

"By reading through every prophecy recorded at the Hall in the Ministry or in any other, unauthorized collections." This from Remus. He gestured at the table before them, "And the Blacks have one of the most extensive, private archives in all of Europe. There have been many Seers in your family, Padfoot. Maybe one of them recorded the one that we're after."

"Isn't it likely, then, that a bunch of Death Eaters are due to arrive on my doorstep?"

"They can't enter the house without your permission, Sirius," Lily replied. She was giving him the "Madam Pince" look – the one that told him he had asked a question that a five year old could have answered. "You're Head of the House of Black – not even your cousins can cross the threshold without your welcome."

"Good to know," Sirius replied. He wished that he'd paid a bit more attention when his father had explained the blood wards. But then, he'd always thought that he would have plenty of time to learn his duties as heir. He could not have known that his father would die, that his mother would lose what was left of her sanity, or that he would run away from home at the age of thirteen.

"How much longer are we going to be here?"

"Sirius!" Lily cried in an exasperated tone. "You're a four year old, I swear!" Across from her, Remus was shaking with laughter.

"But I'm hungry. We've been here three hours already," he whinged.

"Then go and get something to eat, for Merlin's sake."

Sirius gave her a petulant look, and flounced into the remaining chair. He grabbed the nearest book and flicked it open with wide, exaggerated movements.

"I'll just starve then." Remus snorted, but Lily shot him a looked and he returned to his notes, mirth gone.

They all sat silently then, only the occasional turn of a page to be heard. The clock in the hall struck two more hours.

Sirius moved to the middle of the book in his hands. It was yet another Black diary.

'14th September,' he read, 'Weather particularly warm for this time of year. Mayhap the north pasture will yield another row of crops. Must speak with groundskeeper about the possibilities.'

'Merlin, this is dull,' Sirius thought. He fought down a yawn and flicked forward a few more pages.

'21st November. Dearest Cousin Ophelia came to visit. Had a lovely tea in the garden. She brings news from London. What exciting things going on in that town!I have insisted that she come visit me during summer as well – there have been many sicknesses in Town the past few summers.'

Sirius did yawn, then. He turned the page, skimming over the journal entries. He was about to put the diary up and check another, when something caught his eye.

'21st December. Ophelia still here, but must leave in the morning. Most unusual. I wonder if it has something to do with last evening? At dinner, she had a Vision, something about a snake and a lion. Sounded dreadful. Poor dear didn't want to speak of it afterward. What a burden such a gift must be. Still, only a four week visit. I hope to convince her to stay until Michaelmas.'

"Where's Ophelia's diary?" Sirius asked, looking up. Remus passed it to him.

"Did you find something?" Lily asked, curious.

"Maybe."

He flipped through the pages, looking for the nearest date.

'22nd Dec. I have Seen something most frightening. Wonder what Master Goodwin will make of it. I record what I remember:

'A great snake, with garnet eyes, swallows England. But the snake takes too much, and is immobile, weighed down by its gorged belly. A black lioness appears. It tears open the snake's belly, freeing the people of England. And then, most strangely, the lioness licks at the wound, and heals the snake. The lioness glows with light, a green star over her head, and the snake must follow her.

'Another snake appears, poisonous green, and means to harm the red-eyed snake and swallow England for itself. The lioness roars, and the red-eyed snake mounts her back. A great battle begins.

'Then, I See a phoenix. If the phoenix kills the red-eyed snake, the green snake will swallow England, then Europe, then the whole world. If the phoenix flies with the lioness and her snake, the world will be bathed in light. The red-eyed snake shall wear a crown and rule over all worlds.'

Sirius stared at the page, rereading the words once, then twice more.

"I've found it," he said, then read the passage aloud.

"So the red-eyed snake is Voldemort," Remus said. "This leaves three other figures in the vision: the lioness, the phoenix, and the green snake."

"Dumbledore might be the phoenix," Lily said. "But the lioness seems to be the most important."

"Not a great the best choice of futures," Remus mused. "Voldemort destroys England. Or, he finds the lioness, and he rules the world."

"What difference does it really make, then," Sirius said. "Voldemort ruling the world is the same thing as destroying it."

"Not necessarily, Sirius. Ruling implies that there is some kind of world left to govern. Destruction is death to everything. It is a fine line, but there is a difference."

"All right, Moony. But say that Dumbledore is our phoenix. He would have to side with Voldemort. How could anyone, let alone the leader of the Light, side with someone who murders innocent people because of their heritage? Do you really see that happening?"

Remus sighed. "No, you're right."

"But if the phoenix kills the red-eyed snake," Lily said, "the green one destroys the world anyway. It's two paths to the same fate."

"Not necessarily –"

"No, Moony, Lily's right."

"Look at this, though," Remus insisted, snatching the diary from Sirius's hands. "The snakes follows the lioness. The lioness is the key player, not Voldemort. The phoenix flies with the lioness, not the snake."

"The lioness would have to be someone extremely powerful to make a follower out of the Dark Lord," Lily said. "More powerful than he is, more powerful than Dumbledore even."

"Why then is the red-eyed snake the one who wears the crown? Why not the lioness?"

They all thought a moment, trying to work out the riddle.

The floo came to life then, startling them all. James Potter stepped out of the emerald flames holding a dark haired bundle to his chest.

"It's okay, Harri," he was saying, rubbing circles into his daughters back.

"Is she all right?" Lily asked, immediately on her feet, reaching for her child.

"Fine, fine. She just doesn't like the floo." James kissed his wife on the cheek before handing over his cargo. "How's the super-secret research going?"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply but Lily beat him to it.

"You know we can't talk about it, James. Dumbledore's orders."

"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. He walked over to his friends. "They workin' you to death, Padfoot?"

"You know it. That wife of yours is going to starve me to death."

Lily ignored him, cooing at her daughter. The babe made sweet little giggling responses.

"How's the cub?"

"Terrific – other than her floo rides, of course. Took her to Hogwarts so that Poppy could do her six months shots. She was very brave, didn't cry at all." James smiled proudly at this.

"She is our little Gryffindor to be," Sirius said, "Of course she's brave. Never met one of us lions that wasn't."

"Bravery and recklessness are close relatives," Remus said. "Some of us exhibit the former. Others, considerably more of the latter."

"I'm not reckless," Sirius protested. Both of his friends looked at each other and then burst into laughter. "I'm not! Lily, tell them I'm not!"

The other two just laughed harder. Sirius looked over at the red-head for help. But she was staring at Harri with a most peculiar expression. Actually, he thought that she looked a bit peaky.

"Oh, I needed that, Paddy, I really did," James said, clapping a hand to his friend's back, wiping tears from his eyes. "What do you say we go get some food? My treat."

"Sweetest words to have ever come out of that mouth," Sirius replied, turning his eyes away from Lily.

"Lils, you mind if I steal your slaves for a bit?"

"Sure," she replied, face normal once again. "I'll work better without the whinging." She smiled as she said it.

"I do not whinge," Sirius stated, indignant. A whole new round of laughter began, and the other two dragged their friend away to amid much protesting. Once glance back at the library showed Lily, holding her daughter close, pulling the blue diary back to her.

* * *

**A/N: **After much deliberation, I have decided that the chapter that I originally intended needs to be broken into two parts. Look for the next one here in a day or two.

Don't forget to review!


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

She didn't have much time. Hurriedly, she changed into the other woman's robes. At least they were of a height. She pulled a hair from the head of the body on the bed, and dropped it into the potion vial. The liquid inside turned a pastel blue and smelled faintly of cooking sherry. Taking a deep breath, she downed the potion in one swallow.

'It does taste like sherry,' she thought. 'Could have been worse.'

The world became blurry, and she knew that the transformation was complete. She pulled on the ridiculous spectacles, glad when the room came back into focus. She checked her watch. Five minutes to go. She went over the plan again in her head, reviewing her carefully worded lines. She said a quiet prayer to whatever powers existed.

At exactly seven o'clock, she left the room, securing the door with a spell , and made her way into the dining room. She saw the Headmaster enter the inn, brushing snow off of his rich purple robes. He spotted her descending the stair and waved her over.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she greeted, not offering her hand.

"In the flesh, my dear lady. May I call you Sibyll?"

"Of course." He smiled at her.

"I've asked for one of the parlors in the back, if you would care to join me?" She nodded, and he led the way down a cramped corridor. At the end of the hall was a small room, with rather shabby looking furniture but a welcoming fire. They sat down in a pair of wing backed chairs that appeared to have known grander days. Dumbledore poured two cups of the tea from the service on the pedestal table situated between their chairs.

"I must confess," Dumbledore began, "that you are the only applicant I am meeting with. The Divination program is currently under the review of the Board of Governors, and I am not entirely confident that there is a post to offer."

"That is why I sent you my letter," she replied. "I Saw that an opportunity would be available to me at Hogwarts, and that I should act immediately."

"Yes, I do believe your letter arrived the very afternoon that Professor Thistledown informed me of his resignation." He paused, hands reaching into the pockets of his roves. He fished out a well worn, red leather pouch, and, reaching within, pulled looked to be a small yellow marble.

"Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you." He popped one into his mouth, closing his eyes a moment and appearing to savor the sweet.

"Considering that the program might be undergoing some serious reform," he began again, "What do you consider to be most essential to the curriculum?"

She sat silent a moment, drudging up what she could remember of the few terms spent in the musty North Tower.

"I firmly believe in helping children discover their hidden potential," she said, finally. It sounded wrong – didn't true Sight begin during late adolescence? It didn't matter, she supposed. What she said at this moment irrelevant to her purpose. "Without guidance, children may never learn to…channel their…inner eye." She almost winced at the absurdity of the phrase. 'Inner eye? Morgana, I have lost my mind.'

"A basic introduction to the many branches of Divination should be required - reading dreggs and astrological movements, palmistry of course. I would save the finer instruments for older years; no one expects and eleven year old to accurately read a crystal ball, now do they?" She managed a laugh. Dumbledore smiled politely, but she knew that he was not impressed.

"Well, I suppose it is up to the governors at this point," he said. "I'm sure the input of a professional would be valuable to the Board. I will be sure to mention your suggestions to them."

"Oh, thank you, Headmaster!" she gushed.

"I must say that a woman with your background – especially considering your grandmother's considerable gifts – must have many opportunities available to her. The life of a professor, I must admit, is not always a glamorous one."

"Are you trying to scare me off, Headmaster?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"I wouldn't dream of it, dear lady," he replied. "I am merely surprised a witch of such talent would prefer a life of grading and house points."

"I am certainly not afraid. How difficult can a classroom of children be?" It took him half a second to recover from that.

"I am afraid that I cannot oblige you for more of your time, Ms. Trelawney. As soon as I have word from the Board, I will be in touch." He rose. This was her chance.

As his back turned toward the door, she threw her saucer to the floor; her body tensed, and she gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to whiten her knuckles. She fixed her eyes forward, fighting to keep her look glazed.

"Ms. Trelawney, are you –?"

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," she rasped, voice harsh and staccatoed. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… The child will be marked as the Dark Lord's equal, but will have power the Dark Lord knows not… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord was born as the seventh month died…"

She slumped back in her chair, body going limp, eyes fluttered shut. There was silence. She felt Dumbledore move in front of her, putting a hand lightly to her shoulder.

"Ms. Trelawney?"

Slowly, she opened her lids and put on a bemused expression.

"Was there something else that you needed, Headmaster?"

He looked at her a moment; she felt the gentle push of Occlumency against her mind. But he would find nothing – confusion, emptiness, the thought that she could use a stiff drink after this… She felt the presence leave her mind.

"You fainted, dear lady." He stepped back, and held out a hand to help her up.

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"I… I suppose that I didn't sleep well… yes, I do feel quite tired," she said, voice edged with just enough doubt.

" A good night's rest can make a world of difference," the Headmaster offered kindly.

"I'll go to my room, then, I think. I've got a slight headache as well… sleep will do me good… yes, sleep…"

He smiled again and led her back to the main room of the inn.

"You may expect an owl within the week to let you know of the Board's decision," Dumbledore said as he donned his heavy outer robe.

"You are very kind."

With that, he left. She returned to the room upstairs and fell to the floor, nerves and fear finally taking hold in the pit of her stomach.

'Forgive me, Headmaster, for what I must do,' she begged silently. It was all for her daughter. She would do what was necessary to keep Voldemort from using her to ruin their world. If that meant manipulating the Headmaster, then she would do it.

Hardening her resolve, she stood, smoothing out her robes. There was still work to do.

* * *

Severus Snape moved quietly, long efficient strides. The hood of his cloak was drawn up, hiding his face. Still, he kept to the shadows, avoiding the High Street, passing instead from alley to alley.

His mind was chaotic. He couldn't believe what he had overheard. A prophecy about the Dark Lord… there had been no mention of a snake, but this had just been told. Surely it took precedence over anything told centuries earlier? Severus had never put much stock in Divination, personally. And the reputation of Sybill Trelawney was that of a talentless, mediocre witch with little to no actual Sight. Yet, her grandmother Cassandra had been one of the few true Seers to have lived. He had witnessed her seize up, heard the change in her voice… she had been disoriented afterward. All the textbook signs of a Prophet. Dumbledore would have probed her mind, he knew, and the old man had seemed satisfied.

And, most importantly, regardless of his personal feelings on the subject, the Dark Lord believed enough to want knowledge of any prophecies concerning himself.

Snape had left the main part of Hogsmeade behind now, and was on the road to the station. Amid the many thoughts coursing through his mind, one stopped Snape in his tracks.

Should he tell the Dark Lord?

The immediate reaction should have been 'yes.' And yet… could there be some benefit in withholding this information?

'Curse my Slytherin mind,' he scolded inwardly. 'What good could possible come from withholding information from the Dark Lord? And if it was discovered that he had been less than forthcoming… well, Snape valued his life considerably more than that.

But what if he would need that extra bit of leverage at some point in the future? There were new elements in the Dark Lord's circle every day. Severus and Voldemort's original supporters, even Bellatrix, were uneasy with the fanatical edge that the Dark Lord's words had adopted. There had been mutterings about cleaning the ranks… Severus was not proud of his heritage. He was half-blooded, after all, but then, so was the Dark Lord. It was interesting to see Voldemort now, to hear him speak as if her were the purest of them all… The older Death Eaters, Lucius, Avery, Rudolphus, knew that in spite of his blood (or perhaps because of it) Severus was the most Slytherin of them all, most calculating, most cunning…

He should not have to prove himself to the rabble that now donned white masks. Half of them were insane. Many saw the Dark Lord's service as an opportunity to indulge in depravities of the worst kind. Many were failures as wizards, little intelligence coupled with mediocre power, jealous of superior wizards, with nothing but the questionable blood ties to recommend them… They hoped to see the world bow at their feet. The Dark Lord himself was on what seemed a never ending quest for power. Severus had personally been dispatched to every remote part of the world that claimed to hold some magical artifact. Voldemort was growing paranoid – rumors begun by the newer underlings had him treating all of the Inner Circle with suspicion.

Who knew what he was truly after – immortality? Limitless power? It made them all, those who had once considered themselves his friends, uncomfortable. When would the day come when Severus was cast out, or even murdered, for having "tainted" blood? Would he need a few secrets to provide later, to prove his usefulness? These were becoming extremely dangerous times…

'No,' he thought. 'I will report this now. What happens after… ' If Snape truly feared for his life, he could always go to Dumbledore. After all, that's what Lil –

He shut that thought down immediately. Thoughts of that nature would certainly get him killed. He cleared his mind, set his face in a sneer, and touched his wand to the newly branded mark on his forearm. The final fleeting thought he had, as he spoke the incantation that would transport him to the Dark Lord, was 'When did I become slave to this?'

Sirius stepped out of the floo and into Albus Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Being there always reminded Sirius of the countless occasions that had brought him before the Headmaster during his school days. He couldn't even remember the number of house points lost – though he was positive that Minerva did. In all fairness, though, he had earned every one back on the Quidditch pitch.

There were more chairs than usual. He saw Frank Longbottom, talking with Stephen and Amity Bones, and smiled in his direction. Sitting next to him were Molly and Arther Weasley – Molly's brothers Gideon and Fabian Prewett were on the carpet, playing with their newest nephew. Were the Weasleys on the sixth or the seventh? He could never remember; only speculate at what could possibly make anyone want to have so many children.

Remus and James stood by the fireplace, chatting quietly. Lily and Alice Longbottom sat in another corner, laughing at something, each with a child occupying her lap. Sirius went over to his goddaughter and scooped her up. He lifted her high into the air, making noises to make her laugh.

"Sirius, put her down," Lily said, but she was smiling.

"I cannot. The little lady enjoys flying far too much." Harri giggled obligingly.

"I'd better not see a broom near her until she's at least five."

"Nothing wrong with flying first. Walking is completely overrated." He swooped the baby through the air a few more times before returning Harri to her mother.

The door of the office opened, and Albus Dumbledore enter in a flourish of electric blue robes. Behind him was Alastor Moody, head Auror and Sirius and James's boss. He was almost a comedic contrast to the Headmaster, in his dark, worn dragonhide overcoat and grizzled face. He moved slowly on his one good leg – the other had been lost during the last Great War, in the very battle during which Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. His dark eyes had a weary look to them that set Sirius ill at ease – lately that look meant a mission had gone wrong. Sirius wondered what had happened. He looked to James, whose face had also gone solemn.

"I apologize my dear friends, for keeping you," the Headmaster began. "We have serious business this evening, I am afraid. I'll let Alastor to that floor first, to share with you the news that he brought to me this morning." Albus took the chair at the Headmaster's desk, and all eyes turned to the Auror.

"As some of you may know, we're collecting out evidence to identify the criminals known as the Death Eaters. We've had Aurors trailing our priority suspects for months now. This past week, we received intelligence of a potential leak in the Hal of Records. Specifically, the personelle docets of certain high level Aurors. They were traced to the home of a one Amycus Carrow, who we believe to be a relative newcomers to Voldemort's circle. A search of his home yielded little, but we are not surprised. Current corruption appears to be at all levels in the Ministry, perhaps even in the Auror Corp itself, and we can only assum that every move we make is going to be reported to Voldemort." Moody spat out the name with obvious distaste.

"Were you able to learn the names of those compromised?" Remus asked.

"We have."

"And thus, the reason that I have summoned you all here tonight," Dumbledore said. "Potter, Longbottom, Bones – you are all named. There are twenty-five altogether."

"But why me?" Alice asked, clutching her boy protectively, "Why James or Stephen?"

"I'm on that now," Moody responded. "Any of us who have actively worked on the identification of the Death Eaters, seem to be targets. Except Potter. Though, I suspect that they want you for your duties as well… Remove a loyal Auror, Chief of the Minister's security, possibly to replace with a spy, possibly to strike the Minister down while we floundered around in the bureaucratic process trying to get a replacement."

"To take out the Corp would create wide spread public hysteria."  
"Yes, Lily, and this may be the ultimate goal. A terrified mob will allow just about anything. They'll roll over, bellies up while a Dark Lord takes over our government, so long as he promises not to kill them." It was clear what Moody made of that situation.

"What are we to do, Albus?" Frank Longbottom asked.

"I believe that the best course of action will be to put your families under the protection of a Fidelius Charm. This should guarantee your immediate safety and give us time to determine Voldemort's intentions. If at all possible, we will try to use the situation to our advantage and capture some of the conspirators."

* * *

"_Tom?_"

"_Hmm?_"

"_Do you plan on sleeping at all tonight?_" The scratch of the quill paused. Crimson eyes looked down at the snake.

"_You worry too much._" The scratching resumed. Nagini raised her tail and wrapped it around her master's hand, stilling the quill once more.

"_Nagini, I am working._"

"_Yes, working. Plotting and scheming!_" she hissed angrily. "_When did you stop being honest?_"

"_I have never been honest, and you know it," _the Dark Lord returned flatly.

"_No. But we used to stand in public and call for the truth. When did you start using spies, Tom? When did you stop trusting your friends?_"

"_The world is not ruled with honest words, Nagini. What is best for the people is often what happens in the dark, by means most consider to be distasteful._"

"_Distasteful? What those… followers of yours do is more than distasteful. How can you allow them to act in your name? The world fears you, Tom._"

"_As they should. Out of fear breeds respect. The Death Eaters are foot soldiers, Nagini, expendable. So, they attack muggles? What good has the muggle world ever done?_"

"_Tom!"_

_"What, Nagini? What?!" _the Dark Lord demanded, furious now. "_Do you think I could forget the air raid sirens? The starvation? Do you think I don't see the hatred that they bring to our world? I will do everything, EVERYTHING in my power to keep their wars from finding a target in my world. The only way to protect ourselves completely is to rid the earth of their ilk._"

"_I don't know you anymore, Tom. I really don't. The wizard I know would never harm a child."_

_"So that is what this is all about."_

_"Not all about, Tom. But I would never have believed it of you, not even three years ago. Not even when you began this… this genocide. I thought you'd come to your senses. That you were in this just for petty revenge."_

_"Petty -!"_

_"Yes, Tom, petty! After all of this time, you still want to punish your father for abandoning you, and you'll bring the wizarding world to its knees to do it. You'll murder and innocent girl –"_

_"Would you rather I were dead, Nagini? Because that's what will happen if she lives. Would you rather she kill me, and we lose all hope for winning this war?"_

The snake went very still. A flick of her tongue and she knew that her master was not just angry, he was terrified.

"_I love you, Tom, as I would my own eggs. But I will not sit here and watch you destroy yourself and the dream that you once had. I will find you, if you ever come to your senses. You'll need me when you realize exactly what kind of monster you've become._" The snake hissed a string of syllables that the Dark Lord didn't understand, and disappeared.

The glasses on the sideboard shattered. The Dark Lord went back to his reports. The quill scratched softly on.

**A/N: **Sorry it's been a while. Midterms last week and this - my professors are killing me! Anyway, as a special treat, I will be posting two chapters today. Thanks for the lovely reviews, and please let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Lily Potter wiped her eyes clear of the bath water that had just been splashed into her face. Sitting in the tub was her one year old daughter, giggling with joy as she slapped the yellow rubber duck against the water. Lily's shirt had long since been soaked down the front due to Harri's exuberant play. She just smiled and continued to rinse the shampoo from the mess of black curls on her daughter's head.

When she had finished, she pulled the stopper out of the drain, lifter her child from the tub and wrapped her in a warm towel. Lily had always taken pleasure in their bath time – she had been raised a muggle and could not bring herself to wash and dry Harri with magic alone. Besides, Harri loved playing peek-a-boo with the towel. As Lily carried her down the hall, she would flip the towel to cover her daughter's face, then lift it quickly and pull a silly look. Harri laughed at her mother's antics.

"Ooo!" she giggled as the towel was once more removed from her eyes.

"That's right, Boo!" Harri was by far the happiest babe that Lily had ever known. Her daughter rarely woke in the middle of the night, never cried, and always seemed fascinated and pleased with the world around her. And she laughed, all of the time, as if every event in her life brought nothing but joy.

They reached the nursery. Lily placed her daughter in the changing table – a piece of furniture that was completely unnecessary in a wizarding household but that a crying, and very pregnant Lily Potter had insisted on having – and got out a white night dress. She put Harri into the dress, then moved them both to the rocking chair. Lily sat Harri in her lap and began brushing out the wet curls.

"There're my girls," said James as he walked into the nursery. He still had on the heavy dragonhide Auror's robes. He smiled brightly as always, but Lily could see the weariness that lined his face. He looked so much older these days. They all did.

"Da!" Harri cried, reaching for him. James came over to the rocker and kissed Harri on the head, then his wife's cheek.

"Hey cub. Were you good for your mum today?"

"Ooo!" He looked to Lily for interpretation.

"We just got out of the bath."

"Ah." He smiled at their daughter, who and become exceedingly fascinated with her toes.

"You look exhausted," Lily said softly. Her husband sighed, and sat down on the floor at her feet.

"An explosion nearly took out London Bridge. About one hundred muggles were killed, another fifty or so injured. We arrived in time to keep the whole thing from collapsing into the Thames."

"Oh, James, how awful."

"We were able to save the muggle Prime Minister at least. His car was stalled on the bridge in traffic. On his way home for dinner."

"Were they targeting the Prime Minister, you think?"

"Almost certainly."

"What has the muggle Ministry said about the whole thing? What did they tell the public?"

"They're saying a ferry crashed into the bridge. We had to have two squads of Obliviators to help take care of the witnesses. There's so much memory modification that had to happen today, I'll be surprised if any of the poor survivors remembered their own names."

"Merlin," Lily murmured, holding her daughter closer. James put a hand on her arm, rubbing gently.

"Let's not worry about it now, love. I just want to spend some time with my beauties, and then hit the sack." Lily nodded. The baby yawned, rubbing her fists to her eyes.

"Say goodnight to daddy, Harri."

"Ni-ni," the baby yawned.

"Night, love," James said, smiling, giving his daughter another kiss. Lily put her into the crib and pulled a blanket over her. The girl snuggled against her stuffed lion, closing her eyes. Lily smiled and followed her husband out of the nursery.

"How long do you think we'll have to live like this?" she asked James quietly.

"I don't know, Lils. Dumbledore –"

"I don't want to hear about Dumbledore right now," Lily snapped crossly.

"Lils, he is doing everything that he can to help us. You know that."

"We've been here for five months, James."

"And you've been safe," he said firmly. "Dumbledore only has our best interests at heart, Lils."

"I just…" She sighed. "I feel like there's much that he's not telling us, James. I don't like it when other people make decisions about our life without telling us all of the details."

"I know. He probably hasn't shared everything with us," James conceded.

They had made their way downstairs and into the living room. Lily took a seat on the sofa that stood before their wide bay window. James went to the sideboard, poured a glass of wine and handed it to her, before making one himself. He took the seat opposite his wife.

"He's the leader of the Light, Lils. You've got to have faith that he's making the best choices for us. Merlin knows Fudge won't be able to lead a war this soon after coming into office."

"I know, Prongs." He smiled, knowing that if she used his nickname, she was no longer in an argumentative mood. "I just hate being cooped up like this, when I could be out helping."

James reached over and brushed his fingers along her jaw line.

"I know, love. We'll get through this together, yeah? As a family." She smiled and nodded. "And you are doing important work. You and Remus are the only ones clever enough to figure out the prophecy that you found, right? We'll need that information to use against Voldemort. You'd just be sitting in a library if you weren't here at home, doing your research. So really, it's not that bad, is it?"

Lily smiled, wider this time, and leaned over to place a kiss on her husband's lips.

"I love you, James."

"I love you, too, Lils."

A knock came at the door. The Potters looked at each other, bemused. Another knock.

"Who could that be at this hour?"

"I don't know, Lils. Wait here." James rose from the sofa and walked into the entrance hall. A worrisome feeling nagged at Lily's stomach. She followed her husband anyway, wand drawn.

"James, don't answer it."

"It's fine, Lily. No one knows we're here." Still, James had his own wand out. There was a third rap on the door, more forceful than the last. Lily moved backwards toward the stair, while her husband reached for the door.

The first thing she saw were scarlet eyes, locking on her own.

"Colloportus!" James shouted, and the door slammed shut in a rush of magic. "Lily, get the baby and run!"

She did not hesitate. Lily scrambled up the stairs, frantic to get to her child. As she reached the upper landing, she felt a shock tremble through the house, and heard the blast of the front door bursting from its hinges. She was thrown forward onto her hands and knees. She caught sight of her husband and the Dark Lord dueling in her front hall, flashes of purple and red and orange sparking furiously in a whirlwind of magic. James was a fast draw, but would it be enough? Curses ricocheted off the walls, each one causing the house to jolt in its frame. The witch got off the floor and ran to her daughter's room.

Harri was awake, standing up in her crib, holding the upper rails to support herself.

"Mama?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Lily choked out, pulling her child into her arms. She shut her eyes and Apparated…

She felt her magic begin to compress around her, and then suddenly, violently, it snapped back. She was thrown to the floor, landing on her back painfully, still holding her daughter. Voldemort had put up anti-apparition wards. Fear washed over her in icy waves. They were trapped. There was no way out.

She point her wand at the door and cast every charm she could think of, Light and Dark. Then, she cast her patronus, a fearsome lioness.

"Find the Order. Voldemort is here." The patronus nodded and bounded into the air, disappearing out of sight.

"Merlin, let help come soon," she prayed. She put Harri back into her crib. The girl was not crying, but looked at her mother as if worried. Her brow was furrowed and she watched Lily intently.

"Mama?"

"It's alright, baby, I won't let him hurt you. I promise," Lily whispered, brushing her daughter's hair out of her eyes.

Suddenly, the house went quiet. Lily held her breath, straining her ears. She heard a creak from the floor boards and the end of the hall. She knew, even before the voice came from the other side of the door, who it would be.

"Lillian, I know that you're in there."

James was good – had been good – but Voldemort was the greatest Dark Lord of all time. Tears ran freely down Lily's face and her heart ached at the knowledge that the second man she had loved was now dead.

"Dumbledore's coming, Voldemort."

"You think that old fool will be able to save you, girl?" the Dark Lord laughed. She felt his magic pushing against hers, testing the door. Her spells wouldn't hold forever, but it might be just enough time…

"Lillian, if you open this door now, you will walk out of this house alive."

"Why should I believe you?" she spat.

"It is not you that I want, Lillian." Lily furrowed her brow in confusion, and then turned to look at her daughter, eyes wide with shock. Brilliant green eyes that mirrored her own stared back.

"Give me the child, Lillian, and you live."

"You'll have to kill me first!"

"That can be arranged, girl!" The Dark Lord was angry now. His magic surged against hers, painfully. The nursery door bowed inward under the force. It wouldn't take much more to blow it open. She stood in front of the crib, wand ready, shielding her daughter from the door.

"I love you, Harri," she said, giving the babe one last look before turning to face her former Lord.

"Mama? Da? Mama?"

The door bowed again. The wood creaked and began to split.

Lily braced herself. Just as the door exploded inward, she yelled out, "Protego!" Wood shards flew harmlessly passed her and the crib, impaling themselves in the wall behind her.

"Sectumsempra! Somnulus!"

Voldemort brushed her curses aside as if they were nothing.

"Incarcerous! Sectum Botellus! Confringo!"

"Dark magic, Lillian. What would Dumbledore say?" Still, the Dark Lord moved toward her. He had not even drawn his wand.

"Avada – "

"Crucio!"

Lily fell to her knees, body convulsing. The pain was intense – as if a thousand knives were attacking her from all sides, fierce, sharp, piercing blows that fell over and over and over… She screamed and writhed on the floor.

"You should never have betrayed me, Lillian," the Dark Lord stated, tone completely neutral. Lily continued to scream, but she could feel her voice box straining, and knew that soon she wouldn't be able to make any sound. Her heart pounded in her chest, and there was a fierce pain at the base of her spine; her coccyx had likely broken as she thrashed against the wood floor.

"You were supposed to be my example. The ideal Dark witch, with a powerful mate beside you. But Regulus crossed me as well, didn't he? And you ran to our beloved Headmaster. Such a pity. You could have been great."

Lily felt her hands and legs go numb, and still she screamed.

'Morgana, let me black out soon,' she thought. She felt liquid in her mouth, and coughed through her screams. Blood fell to the floor. Briefly, she wondered if it was from her screaming, or if her lungs had ruptured.

And then, the pain stopped. In relief, her body went slack, weak and broken. She turned her head. The Dark Lord was looking at her daughter, who was calmly regarding him.

"Please! Please, not Harri!" she cried, but Voldemort paid her no mind. She tried to force her body to move, but couldn't. She was frozen, numb, paralyzed but her injuries.

"So, you are meant to vanquish me, hmm?" Voldemort said to the baby. "You know that I must kill you then. My work is too important. There is no other option."

Lily's eyes went wide. How had he heard -? Then this was a mistake! A terrible mistake! It would be all her fault if…

"Please," she rasped, throat raw. "The prophecy –"

"I've never killed a child. Perhaps Nagini is right," Voldemort was saying. "Perhaps I am a monster." He hissed something in Parseltongue, and raised his wand.

"The prophecy –"

"Avada –"

" – is FAKE!"

"Kedavra!"

A brilliant white light erupted, blinding all in the room.

Voldemort righted himself, coughing through the cloud of debris that filled the room. The roof, it seemed had collapsed around them. Strangely, he did not appear to be injured. He stood, wand in hand, brushing wood and plaster from his robes.

Moonlight shone down, illuminating the white crib. A neat circle of floor remained clear of the rubble surrounding it. And, amazingly, there stood the little, green-eyed babe, eyeing him curiously. Voldemort stared back in disbelief. How was the child alive? He curse had been true… What had caused the magical explosion?

Suddenly, Voldemort recalled…

He went over to Lily Potter. The woman was trapped under a heavy beam that had once held the ceiling. Wandlessly, he lifted it. She was bleeding through the front of her robes – no doubt her ribs and been crushed under the weight of the beam. But she was still breathing raggedly.

He grabbed her face, forcing her to stare into his eyes.

"What did you say about the prophecy?" he hissed. She coughed; red droplets stained her lips.

"Fake," she replied, voice faint. "Dumbledore… protect…"

"What do you mean? What about Dumbledore? Protect who?" The witch groaned pitifully beneath him, and did not respond. Impatient, Voldemort probed through her mind, searching for an explanation…

He saw the witch drink a potion, watched as her reflection changed into that of Sybill Trelawney. He saw her meet with Dumbledore…

Everything started to go black.

"Why, Lily?" he asked. "What were you hiding?"

"Protect her," she breathed. She was looking at her daughter, a smile on her lips. Then, her eyelids fluttered shut and she became limp in his grasp.

"_Mama?_" The Dark Lord whipped around in shock. The child hissed the word again, the gentlest sounds of Parseltongue that Voldemort had ever heard.

"How?"

He got up and walked to the crib. He lifted the babe and held her before him so that they were eye to eye. Some powerful magic had happened here, he was sure, but not anything that he could explain. This child was special somehow… she had survived a direct Killing Curse, was completely unscathed. She could speak snake language… Holding her, he could feel pulses of magic traveling through his hands and down his forearms. The child was powerful. Her magic was feeling his out, assessing…

What secret had Lillian been hiding about this girl? Why the elaborate hoax? Why the need to fool Dumbledore? And why did the Dark Lord suddenly feel and overwhelming need to keep the child safe?

A familiar presence pushed at the apparition barrier.

"Dumbledore," he hissed angrily. Quickly deciding, Voldemort cradled the girl to him, lowered the ward, and Apparated away.

**A/N: **Here it is! My interpretation of the events of Halloween, 1980. Hope you all enjoyed! Pay attention to the differences in the cannon version of events and mine - this will be extremely important later.

Don't forget to review!


	6. Chapter 6

Voldemort appeared in the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. He did not hesitate, moving his wand in a complex fashion through the air. Once done, he glanced about the room to satisfy himself that it was empty. None knew of the location of his manor – even his Death Eaters could only Apparate in if he summoned them through the Dark Mark. He was safe now. They were safe now.

He still had the baby cradled in his arms. Surprisingly, the girl was not crying. Green eyes stared up at him curiously. A little hand reached out and touched his chin.

What in the name of Morgana's tits had possessed him to bring the child along?

'Because she survived a direct Killing Curse,' came the immediate, logical response from his mind. Yes, that must be it. There was a mystery to unravel here. The girl was obviously powerful – had he not felt her magic against his own? Did he not feel it even now, a warmth that surrounded her little body? It was considerably more substantial than was normal for a child her age, he knew. Had her magic defended her from the curse? Strange things had been known to happen with children's magic – wild and uninhibited as it was.

Yet, no magic known could just stop a Killing Curse. Deflect it, perhaps – Dumbledore was strong enough, certainly, to cast a strong enough shield against it – but then the spell should have rebounded, found some other target… The curse, as far as he could recall, had simply ceased to be, had dissolved, into pure magic, no will or direction. Then, it had exploded outward, the brilliant flash that had knocked the Dark Lord to his feet and blown the roof from the room. But how? Why? What type of magic did the child possess that could do such a thing?

The girl's eyes were the most unusual shade of green, he noted absently. A true green, no hint of brown or blue or any of the usual imperfections. Pure, brilliant emerald. Lily's eyes had been startling, but not like this… An intelligence beyond her age shown from those eyes. As Voldemort was regarding her, he realized, the babe was judging him in turn.

He wondered what she thought of him. Would she understand why he had killed her father? Why her mother was now dead? Why he had tried to kill her?

That was the most curious thing of all. He had gone to the house with a single focus – to eliminate the threat to his life and his power. He intended to save himself from a prophecy… But now he knew that the prophecy had been staged. It was all an elaborate plot concocted by Lily Potter to fool Dumbledore into… what? Why would she want the Headmaster to believe that her child would be destined to vanquish him, Voldemort? It would guarantee Dumbedore's protection of the child, surely, but didn't he already watch over the Light families that flocked to his side? Wouldn't he protect their children? The old coot was too giving by half…

No, there was something Lily knew, or at least suspected – something that would bring grave danger to her child. Something, perhaps, that would make the Light abandon the girl, he wondered.

"_Mama?_" the girl hissed at him, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was done with his face, and now cast her glance about the room.

The girl was a Parselmouth. Just another curious piece of the puzzle. That alone made the child worth investigating. The only Parselmouths to have ever existed came from Slytherin's line. That great wizard, his ancestor, who had nursed a King Basilisk back to health; in return, the King of Serpents gifted him and his blood the power to communicate in the serpent's tongue. And Voldemort was the only living descendent of Salazar Slytherin, this he knew to be a certainty.

Yet… this girl – a Potter with a muggleborn for a mother, no less – was hissing at him. How was that possible?

"_Mama? Mama?_" the baby said, over and over, growing increasingly distressed. Tears began to fill her eyes, and she struggled in his arms, small hand futilely pushing at his chest.

"_Mama!_" the girl wailed.

"_Your mother is gone, child_," he returned, hissing soothingly. "_I'll take care of you now._" Voldemort held her closer to him, rubbing small circles into her back, crooning gently. The last had come out of his mouth almost involuntarily. Voldemort wondered at himself, while the girl cried into his shoulder, long drawn sobs that shook her little body. The Dark Lord felt, for the first time in his adult life, moved by the tears; he felt his heart ache at the sound, and he felt a sharp pang of loss for the girl, for his own mother, whom he had never known. They were both orphans in this world. He didn't know how, or why, but he felt then an irrepressible urge to protect the girl. He felt obligated to make sure that the child did not suffer for her circumstances as he had…

He was in the middle of a war, for Mordred's sake! What was he doing even thinking about caring for a baby?! If he had any sense left, he would deposit the girl at Hogwarts' doorstep…

Deep in his gut, the idea of leaving the girl in the care of anyone else repelled him. Voldemort was confused by his own feelings – having lived so long without them – by the depth of… responsibility he felt for the child…

He let out a frustrated sigh. He had to look at this calmly. He was drawn to the girl, and was driven to care for her. So, he would. He was the most powerful Dark Lord of all time – he could do as he wished. He needed to figure out what exactly had happened in Godric's Hollow, what Lily Potter had been hiding, and why the girl could speak Parseltongue. And he would need to find someone to care for the child…

The girl's sobs quieted slowly. She hiccupped a few times as her breathing calmed. She now hung limp in his arms, exhausted by her grief. He conjured a crib, as identical to the girl's as he could remember, and laid her in it. A pillow off of his own bed became a large, stuffed green snake. He placed it next to the child, and conjured a blanket to cover her with. Voldemort watched the girl a moment longer, before taking a seat at his desk.

He needed a witch that he could trust to watch the child. Voldemort would be travelling much in the next few months, meeting with Dark families throughout the continent. He needed money and numbers to keep this fight going. He had to be sure negotiations went well so that when he finally took control of England he would not have to fear foreign attack. He certainly wouldn't be able to take the child…

Who could he leave her with? Bella? No, she was too closely watched at the moment… and, Voldemort wasn't entirely sure that the witch was all that stable. Since the stillbirth of her own son, she had seemed more… bloodthirsty.

Suddenly it came to him – Narcissa. Lucius' wife would be perfect for the task. She was unmarked, and Lucius was currently in the new minister's good graces (amazing what a well placed campaign contribution or two can accomplish…) Yes, the Malfoys were practically above suspicion at this point. And hadn't Narcissa been close to her cousin's lover? He seemed to recall that there was friendliness between the two… And Narcissa even had a son about the girl's age…

He pulled a piece of parchment to him, and quickly penned a not to the Lady Malfoy. He rolled the parchment and sealed it, encircling it with a black ribbon that would serve as a portkey into the manor.

"Bauble," he called. A house-elf with long, drooping ears and intelligent brown eyes appeared before the Dark Lord. He bowed low, his long green uniform – a robe-like garment with Syltherin's crest embroidered on the back – draping against the floor. The elf's gaze flickered momentarily to the crib.

"How may Bauble serve Master?"

"Take this to Narcissa Malfoy directly. Give it to no other but her, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Bauble replied, taking the letter, bowing again, and vanishing with a snap of his long fingers.

With that done, the Dark Lord turned his attention to the paperwork that littered his desktop. There were maps and letters, reports, drafts of treaties… He needed to review the terms sent to him by the vampire clans. Did they really expect him to agree to free range hunting grounds? In the middle of England? Those who would be willing donors, well, that was their business, but he could absolutely not allow the creatures to prey on wizards… muggles, maybe… perhaps a compromise could be reached after all. He would have to be cautious; vampires were such fickle creatures. It was difficult, at times, to feel any camaraderie with his fellow Dark beings.

He lifted a letter off of his desk. Another plea from Carrow, requesting an audience. What did Voldemort want with personnel files from the ministry? Individual Aurors were of little importance to him – he was fighting a war against the Ministry itself, for Merlin's sake, against the corrupted ideals it represented…

Carrow was yet another of these new "followers" of his. They flocked to him in droves these days, but their methods were, at best, unnecessary. Voldemort certainly understood that murder, torture even, were unavoidable in times of war, but only as an unavoidable means to an end. His fight was to preserve, magic, after all; what good would it do the wizarding world to lessen their already dwindling numbers? And in war, there were certain rules, that even Dark Lord's abided…

Many of these wizards seemed to garner pleasure from violence. He had had to kill some of them. One, in feverish excitement, had burst into a Death Eater gathering, offering the body of a murdered muggle child. The little boy had been violated, that much had been easy to see, and the Dark Mark crudely carved into his flesh. The Dark Lord had raged and dismissed the chamber. The wizard died slowly from his wounds, eventually drowning in his own blood.

He didn't know where these wizards came from, and he loathed them for the taint they gave to the name and cause of the Dark. But what could he do to stop them? He had not direct contact with any of them, had no way of anticipating the next time he would read his own name in the newspaper, ghastly images of mutilated corpses below the image of the Dark Mark in the sky. He feared retaliation, feared what would happen if they turned on him and his Inner Circle. Voldemort had his horcruxes, but his companions did not. He could not afford to lose his friends, and he could not risk putting his life in danger. He was the only wizard alive powerful enough to take on the Ministry of Magic, to hold control over England, to protect them from muggles, to restore Dark families all over Europe to their former positions of power…

What concerned him most, however, was that some of the letters he received gave thanks for his guidance, hinted at the honor of being "chosen" for his work… It was almost as if they believed that he, Voldemort, had contacted them… The implication was there that some other was posing as the Dark Lord, speaking in his name, issuing orders, even… Who could that be? A rival, perhaps? Someone who sought to replace him as the Dark Lord? There could, after all, be only one in a lifetime… Was it someone within his ranks? Ambitious enough to presume the Dark Lord's wishes, seeking favor with him, perhaps? Or crazy enough to believe that they could overthrow his seat of power?

He would have to get to the bottom of this, and soon, but it would have to be done quietly. For now, he would let them live with their delusions. He could not afford to fight against insane fanatical wizards – it would mean civil war within his own ranks. He would need the help of his Inner Circle to command them better. A few well placed Cruciatus Curses should deter them, actual orders from Voldemort would give them purpose, and the more radical elements would have to be destroyed. For now, he could only try to temper the bloodlust.

He needed to meet with his Inner Circle. He knew that they had grown weary. They feared, as everyone did, that he was condoning the actions of the fanatics calling themselves Death Eaters these days. He needed to reassure them, to confide his fears in them, to get their help to find this person posing as Lord Voldemort…

There was a faint tinkling sound; it was the wards, signaling the arrival of an invited guest. Narcissa would be shown to his private drawing room. The house-elves would ensure her comfort.

Voldemort rose from his chair. He went to the wardrobe and exchanged a crisp green velvet robe for his dusty, worn travelling cloak. He then ventured into the bathroom and scrubbed the dirt from his face and hands. He ran a brush through his hair, and then surveyed his image in the mirror.

He looked tired. His face was still youthful, his dark brown hair held only a few grey strands. He was only forty-eight. By wizarding standards, he was still a young man. Hell, Dumbledore was nearing one hundred twenty-two by now… But lines were beginning to crease his brow, the corners of his mouth… darkness had taken home under his eyes…

'No time for vanity,' he scolded, frowning at the mirror. He was presentable, as always, as a Dark Lord ought to be. He straightened his robe and, with one last look at the sleeping child, he left the bedroom.

* * *

As the door to the room opened, Narcissa Malfoy fell into a low curtsy, long practiced to achieve the most grace and fluidity of movement. Her long, ermine-lined traveling robe pooled around her like water, the deep navy of it matched the silk robes she wore underneath. She knew Voldemort had entered the room, without having to look up; she watched as his boots passed through her line of vision. He took a seat – she heard the rustle of fabric, the soft groan of the leather chair. She would not rise until he acknowledged her, she knew, as was expected. He was a powerful Dark Lord, his magic almost palpable in the air when he walked into a room, and despite her own magical strength and the prestige that came from being both a Black and Malfoy, he outranked her.

Narcissa was not a Death Eater, she had never fought for Voldemort, but she believed in the Dark, revered it above all else. And if the Dark Lord was going to wage a war against the world to keep Dark Magic alive and pure, she would obey him.

The fact of it was, the Dark was weakening, and had been for some time. Not everyone wanted to admit it aloud, but the truth remained that vampires had long since lost the ability to walk in the daylight, that all of the Dark creatures had been forced into hiding, that Dark wizards were no where near as powerful as their forefathers had once been, nor as connected to the Source of Magic. The newest children of the Dark families did not show much magical strength. Perhaps, as they matured, they would become more powerful… but she knew that even her own son, her precious Dragon, was not a powerful wizard. He was no weakling, certainly, but Draco's magic was only faintly pulsing. She remembered her younger sister, her cousins, how at only a year old she could already fell their magic humming along their skin…

No one knew why it was happening. Lily had been researching it before… Well, before. Narcissa felt an ache in her heart. She had been great friends with the witch, a Dark witch in lion's fur. The wound of her betrayal had only superficially mended; a brief moment of wistfulness could cut it open again, easily. Lily had loved Regulus, she knew; when he had died, in the Dark Lord's service, Lily had blamed Voldemort. Narcissa could empathize with her pain, but she would never understand what had driven her into James Potter's arms.

"Thank you for coming, Lady Malfoy," Voldemort said, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Of course, my Lord. I am honored by the summons." She drew herself up to her full height and looked at Voldemort. He was a handsome man, with those startling crimson eyes, rich dark hair, strong jaw and elegant, high cheekbones. Many Dark witches speculated as to whom, and when, one of them might warm the Dark Lord's bed. Narcissa could only laugh at them. A man like the Dark Lord could only take his equal for a partner; no witch alive could come even remotely close to his power. She could understand the attraction, though – she was merely a mortal female, after all – but she had never entertained such unrealistic and frivolous ambitions. She truly loved her own husband; Lucius was a good match for her in both personality and rank. While Lucius wanted her, she would not look elsewhere for lovers.

She hoped that he received her note. She had had to leave so suddenly that she did not have time to firecall his office at the Ministry. The Minister was hosting some sort of dinner that evening, honoring himself, most likely. Narcissa had been relieved to excuse herself from the festivities – she detested the simpering demeanor of the Minister's wife – and as Draco had a slight cough, she insisted on caring for him instead.

"There is a task I require assistance with, one that will need to be handled with the utmost discretion."

Narcissa nodded, curiosity piqued. Why had he called her, and not some other? Her sister Bella, perhaps, who was marked?

"What I say to you must not leave this manor," Voldemort stated firmly.

"I will not betray your confidence, my Lord," Narcissa replied. She felt the Dark Lord's magic flare around her, binding her to her words. Voldemort watched her a moment in silence, as though considering what he would tell her. She kept her face neutral and met his gaze with cool confidence.

"The Potters are dead."

It took all that she had not to react – Lily was dead? How? Why?

"It was a… miscalculation. I received information that led myself, and certain other parties, to believe that there was a threat."

Narcissa was incredulous – Voldemort had killed them? What possible threat did one Auror and his young wife pose? Unless… did it have something to do with Lily's betrayal? Did she have some knowledge that made her dangerous to the Dark Lord?

But no… it had been nearly two years since she departed their ranks. Surely she had revealed all that she knew when Dumbledore took her in.

"A threat, my Lord?"

"A prophecy," Voldemort replied. "One that named the daughter of Lily and James Potter as my eventual destroyer."

Narcissa felt a dead weight in the pit of her stomach, a nauseous feeling washing over her. Had the Dark Lord murdered a baby? Was he really capable of the atrocities people accused him of? What sort of man was it that her husband followed?

"I went for them tonight. I learned from Lillian's own lips that the prophecy was in fact a hoax, part of a plot to delude Dumbledore. She never intended for me to hear the words. I would appreciate your aide in the discovery of her motives for this. I must know why she would stage such a thing, what she could have been hiding from Dumbledore. You were closest to her, once. You might see some pattern that I cannot."

Narcissa was stunned by the Dark Lord's words.

"My Lord, I would require a brief time to consider what you ask," she ventured, unsure of what else to say. Lily had faked a prophecy? To fool Dumbledore? It sounded impossible…

"I would value your input, Lady Malfoy. However," the Dark Lord hesitated. "The task I summoned you for will require much more of you and your family. If you would please, come with me." He rose, gesturing toward the door. Narcissa nodded as gracefully as she could manage, and followed him out of the room.

What in Morgana's name did he want with her? With her family? To discover the secrets of her, now dead, former friend seemed an enormous task on its own. She had not idea why Lily would lie to Dumbledore. Was he not her savior? Did he not take her in when she turned away from the Dark? Wasn't she working against the Dark Lord?

It made no sense. The Lily that she remembered would never have risked such a fool hardy scheme. Lily was too quick of mind, too realistic, to believe that she could fool the second greatest Legilimens in the world next to Voldemort himself…

And yet, she had. She'd done the job so well, in fact, that even the Dark Lord believed it. So, she had obviously planned it well… Lily always was a thorough schemer… and she had taken a considerable risk. But why? What was worth gambling her life on? Because that is what it meant to deceive both the Dark and Light Lords…

It took Narcissa a moment to realize that they were walking down an unfamiliar corridor. She knew all of the public areas of the manor, the guest wing to be sure… Where were they?

Voldemort was silent, lost in his own thoughts.

So, Lily was dead. It was difficult for Narcissa to accept such a thing as fact. Lily had been so vibrant, so passionate about everything, so alive… Lily brought light to any room that she entered. She was a witch with a Light soul and Dark magic, a rare balance of the best qualities of both facets of magic. She had been talented with potions, a gifted charms mistress, and an intelligent dueler. When they had been first years, Narcissa had been stunned by the girl's ready acceptance of everyone that she met.

The Slytherins, once a proud and noble House, were made taboo. Many of their parents and grandparents had fought for Lord Grindlewald, and the divisions of war had not been mended. For the many years following his defeat, Slytherin children had to learn how to defend themselves against the other Houses. Gryffindors – Dumbleodore's House – were particularly vicious. To be Slytherin meant to be devious, untrustworthy, cruel… But Lily admired their resourcefulness, wit, cunning. All of their yearmates didn't know what to make of the redheaded muggleborn Gryffindor who sat at every House table during dinner.

Lily had been the one to approach Narcissa, curious about Dark magic. She suspected that her magic would manifest in the Dark, and wanted to know what it meant to be a Dark witch. Narcissa bartered her knowledge of magical theory for Lily's tutelage in charms. So, they became friends. And then, in their fourth year, Narcissa arranged for Lily to meet her cousin, Regulus…

Narcissa quietly hoped that wherever his soul rested, that Lily's rested with him.

She shook her head and cleared her thoughts. She was shaken by Lily's death, her thoughts running along chaotic tangents of memory. She needed to focus on the Dark Lord's task for her – she could grieve privately, later. Narcissa straightened her shoulders and allowed her face to take on the comfortable lines of vague interest.

They stopped before a pair of beautifully carved doors. The Dark Lord hissed something, and the doors swung slowly inward, revealing the grandest bedroom Narcissa had ever seen. It must be Voldemort's private quarters… What in the name of magic were they doing in the Dark Lord's bedroom?

A soft murmur caught her attention. Her eyes locked on the white crib that stood before an ornate Louis XVI writing desk. She looked questioningly to the Dark Lord, who nodded and made a gesture for her to move toward the crib.

There was a dark haired girl, asleep in her white nightgown, little arms wrapped about a stuffed toy snake. The girl sighed again in her sleep, burying her face deeper into the snake. The child must have been around Draco's age.

Reluctantly, she took her eyes away from the sleeping babe to glance back at the Dark Lord.

"Is she -?"

"Lily's daughter, yes."

Narcissa stared down at the girl. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and touched the babe's dark curls. They were luxuriantly soft. Lily's hair had also been soft, like cashmere…

"Why is she alive, my Lord?" she asked, voice little more than a whisper as she stroked the girl's hair, afraid to wake her. She was a beautiful child, with the same delicate nose her mother had. Did she have Lily's apple-green eyes?

"The child is important to this war," Voldemort replied. "How, I do not yet know. But I do know that she is powerful, and my instinct tells me that she must be protected."

"This is my task?"

"Yes."

Narcissa was silent for some moments, staring at the sleeping girl, a faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"I will raise her as my own."

* * *

_And so I was placed in the care of Narcissa Malfoy. As she conjured a second crib in the nursery, waiting for her husband to return home, the Daily Prophet was abuzz, frantically reworking the front page for the November 1__st__ paper. The new cover story would shock the wizarding world with the news of the Potters' murder. The article would describe their heroic fight against twenty masked Death Eaters. A picture of a little girl with dark hair and green eyes would take up half of the cover. The headline would read "The Girl Who Lived." _

_The wizarding world began what would be a five year long search for the missing Potter heiress. Eventually, only her godfather, his best friend, and Dumbledore would believe that she had indeed survived. A select few would know it for a certainty. _

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**A/N: **Here's another chappie! Hope you are enjoying the story. I have really appreciated all of the great encouragement - don't forget to review!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello dear readers! I apologize a thousand times for being so tardy in my updates. My personal life has been extremely hectic recently, compounded by the fact that my computer developed some sort of virus and I had to get my hard drive wiped, and then reinstall all of the programs... Such a pain. Regardless, here is the chapter that you've all been waiting for!**

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The house that I lived in was called Bellthorn Cottage. I always found this entertaining because the old Tudor held twenty-seven bedrooms, two ballrooms, three libraries, and a full servant's quarters. It was a Black residence, a part of Narcissa's dowry for her marriage to Lucius. As an adult woman, Narcissa had not spent much time in the house, but as a girl, she had spent every summer there with all of her Black cousins. The vast expanse of land on which the house had been built was not only unplottable, but carefully warded to both protect children and to disguise underage magic from Ministry wards. Purebloods always taught their children practical magical education from an early age, regardless of current Ministry views on the subject. All wizarding children exhibited accidental magic – in Dark children, the effects were considerably more… destructive. The more quickly children learned how to control their magic, the fewer accidents happened.

An army of house-elves cared for Bellthorn, under the direction of Ginger, the Head Elf. Ginger herself had been born in the house, and, at nearly 94 human years, she had cared for four generations of Blacks. She was generally serious, and ran the household with military discipline. The most observant critic would find no dust on any surface, the food perfectly prepared, and the needs of its occupants met before they even thought to ask. Most guests of Bellthorn never saw an elf other than Ginger, the task of keeping the place in pristine condition done silently, unnoticed by wizards. Narcissa took considerable pride, I know, in the Black Family elves. She had tried on many occasions, unsuccessfully of course, to convince Ginger to come serve at Malfoy Manor. But the old elf would not abandon Bellthorn, and none but the Head of the Family could order her otherwise.

Bellthorn was the perfect place for me – well hidden from unwanted visitors, isolated from wizards and muggles alike, and managed by a loyal and trusted servant. And so, not a day after Narcissa had presented me to her husband, I had been placed in Ginger's capable hands.

Some might consider it to have been a lonely upbringing, but I wasn't away of any other way of life beyond that I had at Bellthorn Cottage. My days began when Ginger opened the curtains in my room and drew back my blanket. She helped me wash and dress, and then combed and set my hair. I spent the day following Ginger while she attended to her work. I loved and befriended most of the elves in the house. The majority of my time was spent in the kitchen by the hearth, watching the elves at work. Melody, the cook, was kind and friendly, and snuck me bits of sweet when Ginger wouldn't notice. Outside, I liked talking with Toddy, the gardener-elf, about flowers and plants that lived with us. Toddy taught me that plants were just like any other creature, and needed someone to love and care for them so that they could grow healthy and strong.

"Talk to you, they might," he told me once, in his low voice, "but only if Little Mistress will listen." I spent the following week sitting in the garden for hours, conducting lengthy conversations with the hydrangeas, who I was convinced were answering me.

Aunt Narcissa visited me once a week, on Friday afternoons for tea. She would bring me a present, and spent some hours listening to my chatter. I adored her. I wanted to grow up to be as beautiful and graceful and smart as she was. Secretly, I liked to pretend that she was my real mother. But then, I always felt bad immediately after thinking it.

I was almost five when I asked Narcissa about my own parents. We were in the Rose library, taking our customary tea by the French double doors that opened to a large garden. The room was named such for the plate glass roses that bordered the windows. The oak shelves, carved from solid blocks of wood, were topped by crowns engraved with the four petals of the Tudor rose. The house had originally been a gift to a Black who had served as ambassador to the muggle court of Elizabeth I.

"Did you enjoy the book I brought you last week?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. My "s" was drawn out, like a hiss. My first tooth had come out, one of the front ones on the lower half of my mouth. I knew that I sounded silly and had worked very hard all week to practice at masking my new lisp.

"Ginger read it to me." Narcissa smiled, which made me smile, forgetting that I had a hole in my mouth.

"She used to read me stories as well, when I was your age. And my mother would read to me, when we were in London."

"What was she like?"

"My mother?" Narcissa asked, surprised. "She was…proper. A very proper Dark witch."

"Like you?"

"I hope that I live up to her standards." We sat a moment in silence. I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, working up the nerve to ask what I really wanted to know.

"What was –" I whispered.

"Harriet, look up when addressing someone." I held my head up, and sat a little straighter, and tried again.

"What was my mother like?" She looked at me a moment, and I thought that she looked sad.

"Your mother was…" Narcissa paused. She set her cup down on the table and stared out of the window.

"Your mother was a very talented witch. She was kind to everyone and very loyal. She loved you very much."

"I miss her," I confessed. "Why did she die?" I was staring at myshoes again, tears filling my eyes. Narcissa knelt before me, her pale blue eyes looking up into mine.

"She died to protect you," she said. "It is perfectly appropriate to miss your mother. I miss mine, as well, and I am a grown witch. What you must remember is that she loved you, and that she did not choose to leave you." She reached up and brushed the tears from my cheeks.

"There now," she said, lifting my chin. "She would not have wanted you to be cry. She would want you to be happy." I smiled feebly. "There are times when we feel very sad, or alone, Harriet. You musn't allow those feelings to control you. You must always keep going, even when it hurts. We must honor those we have lost by living our lives, and being strong." I nodded, and threw my arms around her. She hugged me back fiercely.

We returned to our tea, and life went on. That was the thing most people misunderstood about old purebloods, about the Dark in general – it was not that we are cold or unfeeling. In fact, Dark witches and wizards are some of the most passionate people I have ever met. Simply, we are taught to display emotions privately, to family. The world did not end because something hurt you; life went on, and there was no reason to behave otherwise.

* * *

I awoke on the morning of my sixth birthday to darkness. It must have been early, I knew, if Ginger had not yet come to draw my curtains. But I was too excite to go back to sleep. In the dim light, I crept out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I was old enough to wash myself, but I still liked Ginger to wash my hair, and I required help getting dressed. More often than not, my dresses were buttoned with little beads or pearls, and my uncoordinated fingers, though little, could not do them up.

I got out of the tub in record time, having barely got wet and really only washing my face. Hair dripping and uncombed, I went back into the room and rummaged through the wardrobe. I had just located my favorite green dress when the lights came on.

"Mistress! What is you doing?"

"It's my birthday, Ginger!" I exclaimed, grinning broadly.

"Oh, Mistress Harri," the matronly elf sighed, half laughing. She walked over and took the dress from my hands, placing it back on the hanger.

"That dress is for dinner, Mistress." With a flick of her long fingers, she summoned a towel and began rubbing it over my head. "Mistress Malfoy is wanting Little Mistress in traveling clothes."

"Traveling clothes!" I cried excitedly from beneath the towel. "Do you know where I'm going, Ginger?"

"No, Mistress. But you is needing to get downstairs to your breakfast. Mistress Malfoy will be here in an hour."

"I bet we're going to London," I insisted. "Mrs. Malfoy said that I would get to see London soon."

She pulled the towel away from my head and dried the rest of me. She helped me into a light petticoat and stockings. Obediently, I held my arms up so she could put on a cotton navy blue dress with white lace trim. I put on the leather boots myself, and a lightweight blue outer robe. Ginger braided my long hair and pinned it into a bun at the base of my neck. She carefully wove white ribbons through it and at last declared me ready to leave.

"Melody has preparing special breakfast for Little Mistress," Ginger said as I followed her out of my room.

"What is it?"

"Is a surprise, Mistress." I trailed her, smiling. I knew better than to keep asking Ginger about a surprise – it was always really good and she would never, ever give anything away.

She led us down the main stair. Instead of turning to the dining room, however, we walked toward the back of the house, to the kitchens. At the large oak doors, Ginger stopped and made me close my eyes. I heard her push the doors open. She guided me a few steps forward before saying,

"You may be opening your eyes, Mistress."

All of the house elves were crowded into the kitchen, standing around the scrub board island. A banner hung from the ceiling with "Happi Birthdae" painted on it. At the table was the biggest stack of pancakes I'd ever seen and a package wrapped in brown paper with a yellow ribbon.

"Oh, thank you!" I laughed and went to the table to hug Melody and Toddy and Sage and Ruby and all of the elves who took care of me.

"Open you gift," Toddy said, passing the package to me. I tore at the paper and was delighted to find a patchwork blanket inside. It was made up of all sorts of colors. Here and there, I saw names sewn into the stitching – the elves, Narcissa, her husband, Lucius, and their son, Draco… Most of the names I knew from the Black Family Tree, which hung in the East Library, the largest of the three, on the second floor. There was one name that I didn't recognize, though. It was in the center of the blanket, on a black bit of cloth, in green thread, surrounded by the most beautiful pink roses.

"Who is that?"

I saw Melody open her mouth to answer, but Ginger spoke first.

"Is Persephone Black, daughter of Regulus. He is dead now. She is living with other family."

"Oh," I said, and felt sorry for Persephone. I had a moment where I decided that I would like her very much, because she was an orphan, as I was. Maybe I would meet her someday, I mused. Narcissa said that I would meet her family in September, when I moved to Malfoy Manor, so that I could begin lessons with her son Draco. I wondered what he was like, and imagined that if he were at all like Narcissa, that we would be great friends.

"Do you likes it, Mistress?"

"I do, Melody, very much. I will love it always."

"We all stitched it, Mistress," Toddy said proudly.

"Thank you all," I said and meant it. The elves were my friends, my only friends, and I was grateful that they had taken so much time to make me a gift.

"Mistress is to be eating, now," Ginger said, shooing the other elves out of the kitchen. "She is to be having a busy day today."

One by one, the kitchen cleared, everyone wishing me a happy birthday as they left to begin their work for the day.

"I liked my surprise, Ginger," I told the elf between bites of pancake – chocolate chip, even! – "This is going to be the best birthday ever!"

Ginger smiled as she moved about the kitchen, collecting the silver tea service.

"Do you know what London is like, Ginger? Is it exciting?"

"I has served Black Family in London, Mistress, yes. Is a place of light and shadows. You is finding every kind of magic in London."

I mulled this over in my head.

"It doesn't sound as if you like London."

"Ginger is preferring the country, Mistress. I is very happy serving you." She took my plate from me and put it in the basin to be washed. I finished my pumpkin juice and got down from the bench that ran the length of the table and which served as the seating. Ginger brought me my white gloves and brushed any crumbs from my skirt.

"Little Mistress is to be waiting in the Rose Library for Mistress Malfoy."

"Yes, Ginger."

Obediently, I left the kitchen and made my way to my designated waiting area.

I wasn't sure why Ginger didn't like London. In my imaginings, I pictured London as a bright, colorful place. I fancied that one could find anything in the world there. I was almost sure that was where we were going today. I wondered if I would get to select my birthday presents. I longed to see other wizards and witches, to see magical shops and the magical devices and creatures that I had read about in my story books. I saw magic daily, of course, but house elf magic all seemed to be used in work and chores. There were no other wizards in the house, and Narcissa was the only other human that I knew.

I was always amazed, though I was careful not to show it, when she used her wand. ("Dark Ladies are reserved and collected at all times," Narcissa had told me once, "You must always conduct yourself with dignity, and keep a clear head in any situation.") I couldn't wait for my eleventh birthday, when I would get a wand, and be able to do real magic. I wanted to be able to cast spells, not just move things with my magic. All that I could do was make my toys move about when I was playing, and change their shapes – as I was certain every magical child could – and that was just easy kid stuff that didn't even need a wand.

I heard the door of the library open, and immediately got to my feet and made a curtsy, careful to not sink all the way to floor. ("One only kneels to the floor when one is acknowledging a magical or social superior, Harriet, as a sign of respect. Your equals in class should only be addressed with a half-curtsy.")

I saw the hem of Narcissa's gown, a bright buttery yellow, and felt her gloved hand reached under my chin and draw me upward.

"How are you child?" She asked, smiling kindly at me.

"Very well, Mrs. Malfoy."

"And are you ready for our little adventure?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied with an enthusiastic nod.

"Then let us be off." She took my hand and led me out to stand before the fireplace. "We will be using the floo to arrive at the Ministry. From there, we shall go to Diagon Alley with my husband."

"I knew we were going to London," I said, smug.

"Before we can go, I am going to cast a glamour on you, Harriet." With that she drew her wand from within the folds of her sleeves and tapped my forehead with it.

"May I ask why?" I felt a tingling sensation washing all over my body.

"Because it might be dangerous if others were to see you, my dear."

"Why should I be in any danger?" I asked, confused.

"You will know when you are older, Harriet. For now, I ask that you trust me and obey."

I nodded, still confused, but trusting her completely. She conjured a small mirror and handed it to me. The face staring back at me had the same features I did, but my hair was the soft white-blonde that Narcissa's was, and my eyes were a cool grey. I felt a flutter in my stomach, as I realized that this is what I would look like if I truly were Narcissa's daughter, and half-hoped that I would be able to keep the glamour forever.

Narcissa took a handful of powder from a porcelain vase that sat upon the mantle, and tossed it into the hearth. Green flames burst to life, crackling merrily.

"You must step through the flames and say, 'Ministry of Magic,'" she explained, "When you feel yourself beginning to slow down, be sure to take one step forward. If not, you will land in a very unladylike fashion. Do you understand, Harriet?"

"Take one step forward," I repeated, somewhat nervous, having never traveled by floo before… having never traveled by any means, as a matter of fact. But I couldn't help being excited as well; I knew that there were great and wonderful things waiting for me, and that I only had to be brave enough to face them. Without hesitation, I walked through the flames. They felt warm and soft against my skin. Magic was so wonderful.

"Ministry of Magic!" I shouted, in as strong and clear a voice as I could manage. I felt myself being pulled forward through space, a swirl of colors and sounds flying by me. I caught glimpses of other people, (witches and wizards, I presumed,) and wondered how so many people could use the floo network at once and not crash into one another.

Finally, the colors and images began to slow, and I felt myself coming to a halt. I closed my eyes, and took a step forward, as Narcissa had instructed, and was surprised when I felt hard ground beneath my foot. I opened my eyes and gazed in wonder at the marble halls of the Ministry of Magic. There were hundreds of witches and wizards, coming and going in what seemed an awful hurry. Some held papers, other strange objects, all weaving between each other.

We emerged from the arching hearths of the Floo Network, walking towards a grand fountain. At the center of the large pool stood a tall golden wizard, flanked by a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house elf. The faces of the statues appeared to look kindly at the wizard, but from what I had read of centaurs and goblins, I couldn't believe that either race would ever look up to a wizard. As we passed, I saw the glittering of silver coins from within the pool surrounding the statues, and wondered if people made wishes at the fountain. Narcissa pulled me along, moving with the current of bodies that streamed through the Atrium. Tall windows could be seen jutting out of the walls here and there, revealing wizards and witches at work in their offices. I knew that the Ministry of Magic was far underground, and that the Atrium was on the eighth level. The windows towering above me must belong to the other departments…

At last we came to a queue. Narcissa had told me about this – all visitors to the Ministry had to register at the security desk. She told me that I was safe, because as a child, I had no wand to be weighed; this meant that no one would know who I really was. I continued to watch as little paper airplanes flew overhead, delivering messages from floor to floor. Some people greeted Narcissa in a polite but hurried way as they passed through the Atrium.

"Lady Malfoy and Ophelia Malfoy to see Lord Malfoy," I heard Narcissa say, and turned to look at the man sitting at the security desk. He was poorly shaven, and his peacock blue robes were somewhat shabby, but he stood at attention when Narcissa addressed him, and said in his most formal voice,

"Of course, Ma'am. Shall I send a note up to his office for you?"

"That will not be necessary," Narcissa replied, handing her wand to him. He held it delicately, as though it were made of delicate glass, and carefully placed it on the small brass scale. The instrument began to vibrate, and a thin length of parchment spat out of the bottom.

"Ten and a quarter inches, ebony, essence of phoenix talon core," the man read, "In use twenty-two years?"

"That is correct," Narcissa replied, holding out her hand. The security man handed the wand back over, and produced a pair of silver badges. Narcissa fastened a badge to the front of my robes, and then we were past the security desk, and making our way to a row of elevators. The golden grills closed shut, and I stood tightly against Narcissa in the crowded elevator as the lift began its rise upward.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services," said a cool female voice from the roof of the lift. Several more wizards and witches exited the elevator here, so that only myself, Narcissa, and a wizard holding a box that seemed to be emitting some sort of violet fumes.

"Level One, Office of the Minister of Magic, including the Department of Magical Education, Office of Public Relations, and the Department of Misinformation."

"What's the Department of Misinformation?" I asked. Narcissa had my hand, leading us past several rows of desks, at which sat several harassed looking witches and wizards, reviewing paperwork.

"That Department works with the muggle Ministry," she replied, distastefully. I pondered this a moment. If the wizarding world ought to remain separate from the muggle one, then why was there an entire department of the Ministry that worked with the muggle Minister? I voiced as much.

"Because it is necessary to do things that are unpleasant," Narcissa replied, "and because we are forced to live on the same land, and must negotiate the space."

I supposed that this made sense, and accepted the answer with a nod of my head.

"Ah, Darling, there you are," Narcissa said in a voice that would melt butter. I watched in fascination as her whole body shifted – her shoulders were a little higher, her hips swayed a little, her legs moved forth with purpose. Her eyes were brighter than I had ever seen them, and her lips turned up in a dignified smile. If I had thought her beautiful before, she was captivating now. I turned my head in time to watch her hands catch those of a tall man, with white-blonde hair and eyes the color of darkened silver.

So this, was Lucius Malfoy.

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**A/N: Please don't forget to review - I love all of the feedback! You lot are the BEST!!**


	8. Chapter 8

He was a handsome man, I thought, but his face wore a very serious expression. His eyes were soft as he took in his wife, but changed as soon as his attention was drawn to a young wizard who appeared at his side.

"Shall I hold your messages, Lord Malfoy?" the young wizard asked. He did not look Lucius in the eye, and I wondered if he was afraid of Narcissa's husband.

"Yes, Merriweather. And let the Minister know that I shall return this afternoon." Lucius's voice was just as serious as his expression, an elegant aristocratic drawl. It was the voice of a man who gave orders all day, I thought, and who expected those orders to be carried out as exactly as they had been given. Sure enough, Merriweather tipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement and scurried off down the hall.

It was then, that those hard mercurial eyes fell upon me.

"Of course, you recall your cousin Armand's daughter?" Narcissa said, gesturing toward me. "Dear Ophelia has grown since you've seen her last, has she not?"

"Indeed," Lucius replied, a faint smile on his face. "And it is your birthday, is it not, child?"

"Yes, Lord Malfoy." I bobbed into a little curtsey as I said so. I could feel a gentle hum coming from Lucius – a measure of his power, Narcissa had told me – near equal to what I felt from his wife. He was my peer, surely, and therefore I was not to be intimidated by him. From the wizards and witches in the office around us, I felt half of the magical presence that I got from the Malfoys, and for the first time in my short life, it dawned on me that not all witches and wizards were equal in their magical abilities. I wasn't sure how to process this, and chose to consider it later.

"Then, I shall not have Armand send his youngest girl to London without a birthday present to bring home. Shall we venture forth, ladies?" Lucius held out his arm to Narcissa, who accepted it, and we left the office, Malfoys leading the way and myself trailing behind.

* * *

I emerged from the floo once again. We were in a dimly lit room that reminded me of the kitchens at Bellthorn - scrub board tables, a merrily crackling fire and the aromas of warm, fresh food filling the air. The place was filled with people, some at the tables, some before the hearth, others standing at a bar on the other side of the room. Apart from the delicious smells that tickled my nose, the air was saturated with something that I could not name. Whatever it was, this invisible thing, I could feel it, hanging heavily around my body, warm, like a blanket. I had the urge to laugh, to dance, to just… do something, anything. I felt like singing, like I had awoken not in my own bed but in some fairytale castle, like all dreams were possible and real. I wondered why no one else seemed to be feeling the way I was, why no one else seemed to be as happy as I was to be standing in that room.

There was a burst of air behind me. Suddenly, all eyes were directed and me and the place fell silent.

"Lord Malfoy," said a man coming from behind the bar, wiping his hands on an already dingy looking apron. "I am honored –"

"Merely passing through, Tom." Lucius stepped out from behind me and I realized that the bar patrons were staring at him, which made me certainly feel better.

"Come, my dear," came Narcissa's voice quietly in my ear, and a hand pushed at my back, directing me forward.

We made our way through the pub and out the back door. Witches and wizards stared after us, some wishing Lucius a good day. I got the distinct feeling that these people feared Narcissa's husband, and I wondered at this… I had a feeling that I would be doing a lot of wondering that day.

As we walked into the sunlight, I almost stopped in my tracks – that feeling that I had in the pub hit me tenfold and I gaze in astonishment at the sheer numbers of people crowding the street before us. Wizards and witches of all ages, dressed in colorful robes and hats, swarmed around me, laden with bags and packages, hurrying past each other in a complex dance that left me dizzy. I saw for the first time a wizarding child, like myself. He was standing next to a witch – I assumed his mother – holding her hand in his left, while his right was wrapped tightly around and ie cream cone. Some of the ice cream was smeared against his cheeks, and he was happily occupied lapping at his treat. He saw me watching and smiled briefly, before returning to the task at hand.

"We shall go to Olivander's first, for you training want," Narcissa informed me, taking my hand and directing me down the cobblestone alley.

"A training wand?" I asked, excited at the prospect. I would finally be able to do magic! Real magic, with a real wand!

"Olivander is the best wandmaker in England, of course," Lucius commented form Narcissa's other side. I noted that, as they had in the tavern, wizards and witches stopped to tip their hats and bid Lucius good morning, and yet others moved quickly to get out of our path.

"You will be measured today, so that your wand is ready by September, when your lessons shall begin," Narcissa continued. "And then, we shall get your birthday present."

"May I ask what it is?"

"It is a surprise, darling child," Lucius chuckled. The sound of his laugh made me somewhat uneasy, but I ignored this.

We came to a dark, weather worn door that had the name "Olivander and Sons" faintly visible in gold paint. A little bell tinkled overhead, announcing our entrance, and an aged wizard with clear blue eyes looked up from behind the ledger that he had been working in.

"Lord and Lady Malfoy," he greeted, inclining his head slightly. _He_ did not seem afraid of Lucius, and I thought then that I might like this wizard very much.

"Mr. Olivander," Narcissa returned, smiling graciously. "We are here to order a trainer's wand."

"But your son's is in working order, surely?"

"There is no fault in your craftsmanship, Mr. Olivander; Draco's wand arrived a week ago is exactly what we wanted for him. Today, we are here for my niece." She gestured towards me, and I felt those blue eyes focus with such intensity that I had to fight the urge to fidget.

"Of course," he said finally. "If the young lady will accompany me?" He held out an ancient hand. I looked at Narcissa, who nodded encouragingly. Lucius was looking around the shop, apparently bored.

I accepted Mr. Olivander's hand and followed him behind the counter to a narrow little room just to the right of the shop. He ordered me up onto a little wooden stool and took out a worn measuring tape. He touched his wand to the tape, which began measuring me while he took down measurements in a little notebook that he pulled from his front pocket.

"You feel it, don't you, child?" he asked suddenly, startling me.

"Feel what, Mr. Olivander?"

"Magic, child, magic! All around us, hmm? I bet you feel every hum and pulse of it. Do you not?"

I stammered nonsensically, unsure how to answer this man and his inquisitive blue gaze. He was looking hard at me, as if seeing something that no one else could. His presence was somehow… richer than when I was standing with Narcissa or Lucius, as if he were no more powerful but had some other quality to him that made his aura different.

"Tickles across the skin, doesn't it? In the pit of your stomach. Always there, except when it's not."

I thought a moment, wondering if he meant the feeling that had left me giddy when I stepped through the floo and into the greater wizarding world for the first time.

"I believe so, Mr. Olivander," I said, uncertain. He gave me a crooked smile, and I felt somewhat better.

"You are a unique child. Many will underestimate you."

I nodded, for lack of any other more appropriate response. He plucked the tape from the air – where it had been measuring my ear length – and pocketed both in and his little book.

"Pointless, absolutely pointless," he said, seemingly to himself, half chortling. He walked back toward the main part of the shop and I followed, confused and more than a little tired by my trip to London thus far.

"The wand will be ready in three weeks, Lady Malfoy."

"Excellent, excellent. We will settle the matter on delivery?"

"Very good, madam."

"Come Ophelia," Narcissa said to me, extending her hand. "Are you ready?"

I followed the Malfoys out of the shop, but couldn't stop myself from turning back to get one last look at Mr. Olivander. He had pulled an old rectangular box from within his desk and was looking at it thoughtfully. It was the same shape as all of the other boxes on the shelves – a box for a wand. Whose, though, that had him staring at it so? I decided that Mr. Olivander must be a very strange wizard.

"Is he always like that?" I asked Narcissa in a low voice. We were making our way down the busy and very much crowded street. Vendors boasted their wares from shop doors. One storefront had a crowd of young witches and wizards chattering excitably. The sign above the shop read "Quality Quidditch Supplies" in bold orange lettering. I felt a sudden urge to visit the shop – I had heard of quidditch, of course, but I wanted to see the fast racing brooms used and made especially for the sport. I wondered if Narcissa would let me learn to fly.

"Mr. Olivander? Were it not for his skill, he would be considered more than a little eccentric."

"Lucius, that is unkind," Narcissa scolded. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"He is very strong," I remarked. "We should be respectful." Narcissa smiled at me approvingly; Lucius turned that eyebrow on me, but his look was far stonier than the one that he had given his wife.

We stopped in several more shops – to order new robes for Narcissa for the Minister's autumn charity ball, to visit the editor of the Daily Prophet (with whom Lucius met privately while Narcissa and I watched the photographers bespell the prints for the evening paper,) to pick up an order of potions ingredients for Draco, and so on. I remained generally silent, content to absorb the bustling rhythm of wizarding life that surrounded me. I felt truly part of that world for perhaps the first time in my life. I was just like the other children, out with their parents, fascinated by the magical objects held in every shop window along the alley. I was in love with my world, and with my people. I counted myself fortunate to have been born a wizarding child, that I could consider myself one who belonged.

We stopped at a little outdoor café for lunch. Lucius then bade us farewell, promising to meet Narcissa at home that evening. After a time, we came to a storefront filled with yipping krup puppies. The door to the shop was open, an odd mixture of hoots and hisses and sqeaks and purrs pouring out into the alley.

"You may pick your present now, Harriet," Narcissa whispered, taking us inside of the shop. "But choose your familiar carefully."

"Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed and ventured through the aisles, wide-eyed and staring at the many creatures filling the cages and tanks. In one cage, a crowd of sleek black rates performed flips and tricks that made me laugh. I passed into the owl section and was about to approach a golden tawny when a voice caught my attention.

"_Bloody birds… don't know when to shut up_."

I turned around, looking to see who had spoken. To my left, at the far end of the aisle, I saw Narcissa chatting with the proprietress. No other wizards seemed to be in the shop.

"_Just need a nap, that's all. Peace and quiet to take a nap… miserable creatures."_

"_Excuse me?_" I whispered. I heard a rustling to my right and turned. A few paces down the aisle, a black snake lay coiled on a rock. A magical light shone in her tank, sparkling off the intelligent green eyes that stared at me.

"_Do you Speak, child?"_ the snake hissed.

"_Of course,_" I said, more confidently. "_I __am__ six, after all."_

"_What is your name, child Speaker?_" I stepped closer to the tank and whispered at the glass,

"_Harriet Potter. But I'm in disguise today, so you must call me Ophelia in front of everyone._" It was very difficult to tell what expression a snake is making, but I was certain that she was surprised.

"_Why tell me your true name, then?"_

"_It is bad luck to lie to a magical creature," _I stated matter of factly. Ginger had told me that most magical creatures can tell a lie directly, and that only bad things could come from invoking their anger or mistrust. The snake hissed in a manner that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"_Fear not, young Harriet. No one can understand us."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_We are speaking my language – the serpent tongue."_

"_No we're not," _I replied, thinking the snake rather foolish. "_I don't know any other languages. You're speaking English, just as I am."_ Again, the snake laughed – or, that is what the hissing sound reminded me of.

"_I like you, Harriet Potter. I shall leave with you." _

"Ophelia, you know better than to sit on the floor," came Narcissa's voice above me. "You'll get your dress…"

I looked up at the sudden silence. Narcissa was staring at the snake in astonishment, mouth parted, eyes wide.

"_Tell Mrs. Malfoy that it is impolite to gape."_

"_That's Lady Malfoy, and you tell her yourself," _I replied, frowning at the creature's rudeness.

"Harriet." Narcissa bent low, staring at me now. "Do you… do you understand what the snake is saying to you?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know that you shouldn't speak with the animals. But she was not being very nice to you."

Narcissa lifted my chin so that I was meeting her eyes. She seemed to decide something, and stood suddenly, expression completely neutral.

"It is alright, child. We shall… we shall take her with us, hmm? And then let's get home. I'm sure that you are exhausted."

She called the shopkeeper over to retrieve the snake and then paid for the creature. The shopkeeper practically threw the poor thing into a wicker crate, as if afraid to touch her. I heard the snake hiss some very rude things at the proprietess and had to stifle my laughter.

* * *

Narcissa left Bellthorn later that evening. Harriet, worn out from the day's excitement, had fallen asleep on the chaise in the Rose Library while Narcissa read to her from a new book. The massive black adder remained coiled about the child, eyeing Narcissa's every movement with a suspicious eye.

Narcissa still didn't know what to make of the situation. She recognized the creature immediately, of course. Who didn't know Lord Voldemort's familiar? And, had she any doubts, Harriet had happily introduced her to Nagini when they arrived back at Bellthorn.

The child was a Parselmouth. A Parselmouth, for Morgana's sake! How? Only Voldemort himself, heir to Slytherin's line, spoke the language. No other wizard alive had the power. There was no link in the Potter line, no way that the child had a drop of Slythering blood in her veins.

So, how? How was this half blood Gryffindor the only other wizard alive with this particular power? Did Voldemort know? Was this part of his interest in the girl?

Narcissa had found herself constantly asking this question over the past five years. Why this girl? Why did the Dark Lord spare her and not her parents? Why did he demand faithful correspondence of the child's daily progress.

And what if the Dark Lord had no idea? What was she to say?

"Returned at last." Lucius's silken voice broke her from her thoughts. She looked up into the mirror of her vanity. Her husband moved from the doorway to stand behind her, never losing her gaze.

"What do you think?"

"Of?"

"Harriet."

"Ah." Lucius didn't respond immediately. He took time to unfasten her necklace, lay it gently on the table, and caress her neck with light, soft strokes.

"She is powerful," he said simply. "Perhaps too powerful for a child her age. Certainly more than I would expect out of Potter's half born ilk."

"She is a Parselmouth." Her husband's hands stilled at that.

"You are certain?"

"More than. She is bound to Nagini." At that, Lucius's eyes widened – a gesture of absolute shock that was normally absent in the Malfoy repertoire of expression. "The adder sleeps coiled around her as we speak," Narcissa continued, regaling what took place in Magical Menagerie.

"So this is why the child is important to the Dark Lord," her husband said at last. "Do you think that the girl is his?"

Narcissa had considered that very possibility many times in an attempt to understand the Dark Lord's motives.

"I do not believe so," she said at last. "I do not recall him taking such an interest in Lily."

"And yet there is no other explanation for the child's ability."

"None yet that I have discovered."At this, Lucius smiled. He loved his wife not only for her beauty and grace, but for her inquisitive, cunning intellect.

"Shall I inform the Dark Lord of these events, do you think?"

"It is likely that the Dark Lord already knows of the girl's power."

"But what of Nagini? How long has the Dark Lord been without his familiar, Lucius?" Her husband looked thoughtful.

"I do not recall her going missing in the first place," he admitted. "We all believed that he kept her in his personal rooms."

"If he has not mentioned this, then perhaps it would be best that we do not say anything. Could he have sent to serpent to watch the child?"

"It is a possibility," Lucius said. "And what are we to do with the girl?"

"Begin her education, like a normal wizarding child. It is as the Dark Lord wishes. In fact, I had thought to bring her here to take lessons with Draco."

Lucius frowned at that. Though Narcissa disapproved of the attitude, she knew that her husband cared little for half bloods. She worried about that prejudice finding its way into her son.

"Is that wise? I do not believe that our young Dragon will take kindly to a rival for his attentions, my dear."

"He is his father's son." Lucius chuckled, a deep velvety sound that sent a thrill of pleasure down Narcissa's spine. His deft fingers were making quick work of her bodice.

"There is something about her that draws attention, isn't there?" Lucius continued, thoughtful. "If her power is at this level now, what will she become as she matures?"

Narcissa studied her husband's face in the mirror before turning around to look at him directly.

"You are planning something."

"Not yet, my love, not yet. Merely, seeing possibilities newly presented."

Narcissa rose from her bench, allowing the gown that Lucius had been unlacing to fall to the floor. Those cool silver eyes darkened, taking in her naked form.

"And what possibilities lay before you now, Lord Malfoy?"

With a throaty growl, Lucius lifted his wife and carried her to their bed.

Some hours later, as Narcissa fell into a deep, sated slumber, and thought wormed its way into the back of her mind.

'What if Harriet was to be as powerful, magically, as the Dark Lord himself?'

And with that, she drifted off to sleep, curled up against her husband.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the long haitus! I am currently attempting a doctoral program, which has left me little time for anything else. But the muse has struck, and if I didn't get another chapter out, I was going to go crazy. Don't give up on me, folks, the story is not abandoned, but I will be somewhat slow to update. As always, please read and review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** This chapter takes us to the present time... for those of you who have been wondering what has happened to our Persephone. Don't forget to review!

* * *

I awoke slowly. My head felt heavy, my thoughts scattered. My eyes opened, but I could make out little beyond light and shadow. I blinked several times, trying to bring the room into focus, all the while trying to recall what had happened to me.

Tom… an attack on the manor… amber eyes… and then, nothing. I tried to move, and instantly regretted it. My whole body ached, joints stiff and protesting, as if I had been put through a training ring for hours on end. Wisely, I chose to remain still, moving only my hand, slowly, across my abdomen. I let it rest just below my navel, closed my eyes and felt with magic.

A warm pulse met the probing tendril of power that reached out from my core. Light met light in a calming embrace, and I felt myself become more clearheaded. Smiling, I recalled my magic, content, at least, that one member of my family was safe and sound.

I remembered Nagini restraining me, and then collapsing on top of me, stunned. Her great weight had pushed the air from my lungs with enough force to cause a black out.

Amber eyes… There was something familiar, something resting at the back of my thoughts which I could not place…

And Tom. What of my husband?

'Morgana, let him be safe,' I prayed silently. If he lived, he would come for me, of that I was sure. And if he were dead… No, I would not allow myself to finish the thought. My husband was the greatest Dark Lord of all time – he was alive and he would come for me.

Which left only the question, where was I?

I opened my eyes again, finding it easier to make out my surroundings. A single candle burnt at my bedside. A chair, currently unoccupied, and looking to have been in use recently, was pulled up against the bed; an old, worn outer-robe hung from the back, a leather satchel swung over it.

The bed itself was a large, ancient looking four poster. Musty, moth-eaten curtains barely shielded my view of the rest of the room. An armoire – which had to have known better days – occupied one corner, a writing desk and chair the other. Several large portraits hung on the walls. Abandoned by their subjects, they were merely colored canvas.

There was a door on the wall adjacent to the bed. I thought about venturing out of this room, wondering how many obstacles lay between freedom and that door… but my body was tired, and I would move to slowly on foot to be of any use to myself.

A quick pulse of magic outwards told me that an antiapparition barrier surrounded, at the very least, this room. I recognized the signature of the caster – Albus Dumbledore – and knew for certain that I was firmly in enemy territory.

The Light knew nothing of me, beyond rumors that Lord Voldemort had a consort. If I played the situation to my advantage, they would never know who I was. And that, would be my key to freedom. All I had to do was to wait, observe, and plan. One of Tom's spies would see me eventually and report back. I just had to last until then. I knew for certain that I must never reveal myself – for what better leverage against Tom than to hold his wife captive?

I heard footsteps approach the door, and voices whispering, too soft for me to discern the words. I shut my eyes and slowed my breathing, allowing my body to go limp.

"I am telling you, Arthur, it is _her_. This is Jamie's little girl," a quiet voice insisted. The door opened and two sets of footsteps came into the room.

"How can you be sure, Remus? I want to believe it, but after all this time? And what would she be doing in the Dark Lord's manor of all places?"

"I know that scent, Arthur," the first voice, Remus, said. He sounded strained, as if trying to hold back some powerful emotion. Curious, my magic reached out lightly, not enough for either to notice. The first one it touched was a Light wizard, through and through. He was not strong, strictly speaking, but strength of heart, conviction, was embedded into his magical core.

The second one was far more puzzling – Light magic, but something Dark wrapped around his core as though binding it… I felt wildness, primal earth magic. A Dark creature? Yes… I immersed myself in that bit of Darkness… I could almost smell the wet grass in the evening, the closeness of the pack, the freedom that came out of the hunt…

A werewolf. With Light magic. How odd. And still more, there was something familiar about this aura, something calming, something that my magic recognized though my mind did not.

"Remus, it has been seventeen years –"

"But I am telling you –"

"Remus, if it were my own children, I would never have given up hope. And you haven't. In all these years, you haven't given up. But it is time to accept the fact that Harriet Potter died a very long time ago."

I fought not to react to that. My name… well, my first name. What importance did it have for these men? And how did this… Remus, know who I was?

"You are right, Arthur. I didn't give up hope. And now I have brought her home. Just look at her, and tell me that you don't see Lily Evans face."

There was a haggard sigh. I felt the air shift as someone moved closer to me, leaned over me. It was the first aura that I had felt – the Light wizard, Arthur. So, Remus was the wolf, then.

"I can see why you want to believe, Remus, I do."

"And you don't?"

"I just don't want to get anyone's hopes up. If you are wrong, it would be like losing her all over again."

"I swear on Merlin's grave, Arthur, the woman in that bed is Harriet Potter."

Another sigh. The wizard – Arthur – moved away from me, toward the door.

"We'll see what the others have to say, Remus. I want to believe, truly. I cannot blame you for hoping."

Arthur left the room. The door clicked shut behind him. The other wizard, the werewolf Remus, took the seat next to the bed. I felt a hand touch my face, brush my hair from my forehead.

"Where have you been, cub? All these years… We never gave up on you, not ever. Padfoot and Moony kept their promise. They'll all see the truth. They'll have to… We brought her home for you, James." He fell silent at that.

Internally, thousands of questions burned in my mind. Who was this man? Who was hi to me? How did he know me? Why had he been looking for me? Who were Padfoot and Moony? Why did Arthur – and presumably the mentioned "others" – believe me to be dead? And, most importantly, why did they care?

I wondered if I should "awaken" and question this man. A great commotion from below prevented me, however. Remus rose from his chair and rushed out of the room. There was the sound of many voices from below. I knew that it would be impossible for me to escape this night.

Exhausted, confused, and more than a little frightened, I allowed myself to fall back into a heavy sleep.

* * *

_I could feel him. The pull of his magic was intoxicating, addictive. My own core pulsed and heated with energy, eager to return to its mate. Yet, he was so far from me – I could not see him, could not look through his eyes as I had always been able to do. _

_He was calling me, I could feel it… demanding a response. _

_I tried. I pushed out, I ran towards him, towards his aura… and it remained just out of reach._

_I felt myself begin to panic, desparate to return to him, to answer the call. I was screaming, fighting with every ounce of magic that I had to cross that barrier, to reach him._

_Suddenly, I could hear his voice, clearly now, nearby. I was so close…_

* * *

I awoke suddenly, my heart pounding in my chest, breath ragged.

He was alive – Tom was alive… but our connection was blocked somehow. That had never happened before. Since, our bonding ritual, I had always been attuned to his aura, been able to visit him in my dreams, know his thoughts in the waking state (if his Legilimency shields were down, that is.) I did not know what this meant, and it frightened me.

At least he is alive, I told myself. 'Take comfort in that.'

"Are you all right?"

I turned and met amber eyes. It was Remus, the werewolf who had brought me here, who knew my name. I nodded. I had so many questions for this man, but they could wait for now.

"Where am I?" My throat felt dry, my voice raspy and little above a whisper.

"In a safe place," Remus replied. He took a glass from the bedside table and filled it with an antique porcelain pitcher.

"Water?" he offered. I accepted and drank greedily. I pretended not to notice how avidly those eyes watched, taking in my every move

"Do you know me?"

I put the glass on the bedside table. I studied his face. There was nothing remarkable about his features, really, apart from those eyes. His face was long, but soft, with a strong chin but round jaw. His nose was straight, aquiline, his hair a chestnut brown, flecked with grey. He looked much older than I knew he must be. There were faint scars marring his flesh, just noticeable in the harsh candlelight. And those eyes… they were soulful and sad; the way he looked at me… like I was some… answered prayer. I felt my heart ache for this man, for whatever torment had plagued him for so long.

Finally, I said, "I don't know." I could not recall meeting this man ever in my life, and yet something nagged at the back of my mind. I felt that I could trust this man.

"You would have been very young, just a baby," Remus said. "I suppose you wouldn't remember." And there it was again, that terrible sorrow. Yet, when his eyes came back to mine, there was a desperate hopefulness – I wanted to give him something to alleviate the pain which was etched into every line of his body.

"There is something familiar about you, but I don't recall what."

He smiled and his face lit up – I would have even called him handsome, then. I felt myself happy as well, happy to have caused that grin.

"What is the name of this place?"

The smile faded somewhat.

"Well… you're at Gri…" He cut off, brow furrowed in consternation. He tried again, and then twice more to say the name, but he could not. "I suppose Albus will have to tell you."

'Fidelius charm,' I thought. We were in a Light stronghold, then. I decided to switch topics.

"What is your name?"

"Remus. Remus Lupin. I knew your parents." I looked at him questioningly. "We were in school together at Hogwarts – the Pride of Gryffindor."

But that wasn't right – my father had been a Slytherin, like all of the Blacks before him. This man must be mistaken then… and yet, he knew my name.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course, cub!" Lupin replied, laughing. "You're Harriet Potter."

In a moment, I had to decide whether or not to go with the moniker or correct it.

"I have been called that," I said.

"I knew it!" the man exclaimed, practically leaping from his chair. He reached for me and, before I knew it, enveloped me in a fearsome hug. "I knew it was you. They don't believe me… but I would never forget your scent, cub."

I was released just as suddenly.

"I must get Albus," Lupin continued, excitedly, going to the door. "Everyone will celebrate your return, Harri. We'll show them all that you've come home!"

"But –"

The door clicked shut before I could utter another word. I sat there, bewildered. The man said that he knew my father – he meant James Potter, my mother's second husband. So, it was not common knowledge that my father had been Regulus Black. I would definitely have to watch myself on that subject…

And now, Albus Dumbledore was coming to talk to me.

'You can do this,' I told myself firmly. 'You were trained for this. You will make Tom proud of you.'

I was both frightened and dreadfully curious to meet the great Albus Dumbledore. He was the only wizard alive to rival my husband's power. Influential, inspirational, even – the Light Lord of England. I knew his profile, of course. The Dumbledores were an old, powerful Light family. He had defeated Grindelwald at only 17. He was a half-blood – like Tom and me – though curiously, his father had died in Azkaban for laying waste to a muggle village. I had always wondered at that… why would a man who had taken a muggleborn for a wife later on slaughter a muggle village? And then, both mother and sister had died mysteriously…

What I was not expecting was the flourish of canary yellow robes that entered the room moments later.

Power surrounded this man in a manner that I had only ever felt in my husband – formidable, tangible, almost visible in the air around him. And yet…

Long ago, I had learned to read magical auras. All pureblood children were taught, so that they knew how to appropriately greet strangers – you had to know if you were addressing your inferiors, peers, or betters. And, as strong as Dumbledore was – indeed, the strongest light aura I had ever been in the presence of – I did not feel as though he were my superior. Was he masking himself, somehow? To appear less threatening? Or perhaps to puts others at ease around him? My husband let his magic be free, using it as a tool to intimidate those of lesser power into submission.

His hair and bear were purely silver. Clear blue eyes twinkled at me from behind half moon spectacles. He looked amused, as though some great joke were going on that only he was aware of. He smiled at me and took the chair beside the bed.

"The resemblance is remarkable, Remus." Lupin beamed at me from behind Dumbledore's shoulder. "What is your name, my dear?"

"Harriet Potter," I replied quickly.

"And do you know who I am?" I blinked, unsure of what he wanted. Dumbledore was a master Legilimens, I knew. Even now, I could feel the faintest brush against my mind. Were I not trained, I never would have noticed. I would have to tell as much of the truth as possible, then, to better camouflage any lies that I would have to conjure up.

"Of course, Lord Dumbledore."

"Albus, please." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. That periwinkle blue sparkled in the candlelight with fatherly affection and warmth, but I saw mistrust in that gaze, however deeply buried.

"Are you aware, Harriet – may I call you Harriet? – that the wizarding world believes that you have been dead for seventeen years?"

"An obvious exaggeration," I replied dryly. Dumbledore laughed outright, and Remus smirked behind him. I smiled, satisfied. My gut told me that my natural humor would endear me to these people, and I intended to use it.

"Lord… Albus, I am confused. Why would the wizarding world care about me?" I asked, truly curious. I watched him ponder over this answer. No one had ever told me that I was important to the world at large. I understood my position as Tom's spouse, as a relatively strong witch, and as a Black. Yet, something about _Harriet Potter_, and not Persephone Black, was important.

"Well, my dear, you are the Girl-Who-Lived," Dumbledore said, finally, as if _that_ explained everything. I'm sure that my expression revealed my confusion and Dumbledore gave me a hard look.

"Do you not know who you are, Harriet?"

"I'm unsure what you mean by that, my Lord," I responded candidly. I felt that prove in my mind once more, not as subtle as the first attempt. I showed him the truth, that I had no knowledge of anything to do with Harriet Potter.

"Curious, indeed."

"I'm sorry, but what's curious?"

"Where were you raised, my dear?" Dumbledore asked, blatantly avoiding my question. This irritated me, but I answered him. After all, what choice did I really have? Weakened and in Dumbledore's territory?

'Could have been worse,' I thought. 'I could be in the hands of the ministry.' Aloud, I said, "Bellthorn Cottage."

"That's were Siri and Reg grew up," Remus said, quietly, sounding surprised.

"And who lived with you?" Dumbledore continued.

"Just house elves, my Lord."

"Where do you reside now?"

"That is still my home." Again, the truth. I remained at Bellthorn while Tom was abroad, which was often. We tried to stay there as often as possible while he was in Britain.

"With house elves?" Dumbledore asked. I could feel his magic humming in the air around me. He was pleased, but I wasn't sure why. It put me on my guard.

"Yes, my Lord."

"And you have been trained in magic?"

"Of course."

"By whom?" Ah, now to the tricky part.

"Mistress Bella."

"What was her surname, child?"

"Black," I replied. That was, after all, how she referred to herself. As a rule, Blacks did not change their names, regardless of marriage.

"Lestrange?" Remus asked, voice sharp. Dumbledore held up a hand, and the werewolf appeared to bite back whatever comment that had come to his mouth.

"Which subjects?"

"Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Magical defense and offense, Magical Theory, and Arithmancy."

"No history?"

"Well," I replied, furrowing my brow. "Some, but not as a separate subject."

"And what do you know of Lord Voldemort?"

'More than you ever will,' I thought flippantly.

"He is the most powerful Dark Lord of all time," I responded, rattling off the words taught to me as a child. "Heir of Slytherin, a Parselmouth, and the half-blood son of Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle. He studied under Lord Grindelwald before his defeat in 1945."

"You are surprisingly well informed, child," Dumbledore said. "But do you know of Voldemort's role currently, in the wizarding world?"

"He is leading a war against the British Ministry." The old man's eyes really did twinkle at me then.

"Against Light, my dear, against Light witches and wizards all over the world. As well as the muggle world."

Dumbledore appeared to actually believe what he was saying. Tome wasn't fool enough to wage a war of Dark magic over Light – the idea was ridiculous. We need each other, to keep the balance. One could not exist without its opposite…

No wonder they thought him mad. I would not correct Dumbledore now – it would reveal too much – but I would have to discuss this with Tom. Why did Dumbledore believe that he was trying to eliminate the Light? No wonder we had a hard time recruiting people to our cause…

"Do you know of your place in this war, my dear?"

I did not answer, unsure of what to say.

"I wasn't aware that I had one." At the very least, I had no idea what place Harriet Potter seemed to hold. Dumbledore smiled at me brilliantly.

"We will have to discuss that in length over tea some time," he said genially. "For now, I have but one more question, and then we will leave you to rest."

"I am rather tired," I acknowledged; inside, I was restless to learn whatever it was that Dumbledore knew about me. And what of this "Girl-Who-Lived" nonsense?

"I am sure that you are, child. And you have been most accommodating to an old man. There is but one thing that puzzles me. Dear Remus, here, found you yesterday evening, most extraordinarily, in a chamber at the headquarters of Lord Voldemort," he said, in the tone of one remarking on the weather. "How did you come to be there?"

Quickly, I threw up the memory of the first time that I had ever been brought to meet Tom privately. I felt Dumbledore enter my mind not a moment later.

"An elf, Bauble, woke me just after I had gone to bed. She told me that her master requested my presence but did not give me his name. She brought me to a manor and showed me my room. I was waiting for some time and then –" a quick change to my memories of last night "- I heard a loud crashing sound, and the whole building shook. I don't remember much after that. I believe that I fell."

Dumbledore rose, nodding in satisfaction.

"You must be exhausted, child, and rather confused, I expect. We will not tire you further with introductions. For now, rest, and tomorrow you can meet the rest of the household."

He reached for the door, Lupin trailing behind him, smiling and giving me a wink.

"Fear no, child," Dumbledore said, pausing. "You will sleep undisturbed tonight. You will be well guarded."

"Thank you." They left the room. 'Damn,' I thought. They believed that I was Harriet Potter – well, I still wasn't too sure about Dumbledore – but now I was wondering if that was a good thing after all.

"Hurry, Tom," I whispered into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** You know what to do. The review button is right there. All it needs is a little push...


	10. Chapter 10

Sirius Black arrived home rather early that evening. He had spent most of his day sorting out paperwork at the office. The Minister was currently on a "round up the dark wizards" kick that had Aurors searching through homes for incriminating evidence instead of out there gathering real intel on the Dark Lord's activities. Sirius himself had been out for three days, Kingsley Shacklebolt as his partner. Fudge wanted to show the people that he was doing something, determined to throw as many wizards in Azkaban as he could, whether they were really Voldemort's supporters or not. Poor Stan Shunpike, conductor on the Knight Bus, had been locked up without trial. The whole thing was a ridiculous waste of time, as well as a complete travesty of justice. Stan was no more a supporter of the Dark Lord than Molly Weasley, Sirius would have bet his life on it. But things were precarious at the Ministry, and anyone caught protesting found themselves dismissed on the spot. Dumbledore needed the intelligence that the Aurors could provide, not only about Voldemort's activities, but the Minister's as well. And so, Sirius found himself repeatedly acting the good little soldier while all he wanted to do was punch Fudge square in the jaw.

Things had been more in control when Alastor was still head of the Auror Corp. But Fudge had ousted him, and now Rufus Scrimgeour was in charge. The man had been a great Auror, but his hatred for the Dark reminded Sirius sharply of old Barty Crouch. He feared that Stan would not be the last innocent wizard to be hauled in by Aurors. These were increasing dark times, and what was most surprising was that Voldemort had been quiet for some time. It was the Ministry people were scared of now, whether they admitted it aloud or not.

To top it off, the raid on Voldemort's manor had been a complete cock-up. By the time the wards had completely fallen, Voldemort had been able to Apparate his entire army to an unknown location. On the bright side, none of the Order had been killed – though Frank Longbottom had taken a nasty cutting hex to his throat, but Poppy had been able to patch that up in a moment. With the Death Eaters gone, they were at least able to get into the manor itself. There was no indication of where else Voldemort might set up headquarters next, but they did learn something of his plans. The Dark Lord, it seemed, had gained the allegiance of two of the most powerful vampire clans – in Romania and France – and that was something that scared Sirius to the core. Not even Grindelwald had succeeded in getting the vampires on his side.

What did surprise Sirius, however, was that while they found many plans within Voldemort's war room, none of them corresponded to the attacks that had been accredited to the Dark Lord over the past year. Even Dumbledore seemed stumped at this one. Why leave everything else out, but not those? There was always the possibility, of course, that these had simply been taken out of the manor. And yet… every instinct Sirius had told him that they had successfully surprised the Dark Lord, and that he had left in an awful hurry. Clothes, books, heirlooms, even the Voldemort's enormous serpent, all had been left behind. (The serpent was currently in a cage, sedated with potions, in the basement of Grimmauld Place.) Surely details on attacks that had already happened weren't the one thing that the Death Eaters had to have with them…

Sirius walked up the steps of Grimmauld Place and tapped once on the shabby black door with his wand. He heard several clicks, and then the door creaked open. Once inside, he heard a great commotion coming from the back of the house, so loud that he had thought his mother's portrait had been awakened again. But no… the voices appeared to be coming from the kitchen. He walked down the hall, and pushed open the door slowly.

The entire Order appeared to be there, all talking at once; Remus was at the head of the scrub board kitchen table, trying to quiet everyone else. Dumbledore did not appear to have arrived yet, and he heard Molly Weasley's voice, magically magnified over the din,

"Quiet down!" The room stilled, and Sirius almost laughed to see their looks as they took in the irritated face of the Weasley matriarch.

"There is no point in continuing to argue until Dumbledore returns!" she said firmly. "And the very least you can do is let Remus finish!"

"Thank you, Molly," Remus said gratefully, before clearing his throat and addressing the lot. Sirius stood back in the doorway, as yet unnoticed by the others. He was very curious to learn what it was that had them in such an uproar. Had they found Voldemort's new hiding place? According to Snape, he had not yet been summoned to the Dark Lord's new headquarters, and it was doubtful that he had gone to ground yet. Not that Sirius trusted Snivellus, but Dumbledore seemed to believe the greasy snake, so that had to be enough.

"As I was saying, Albus has seen her, and he believes that there is a strong possibility it really is her."

"But he hasn't said definitely, either way."

"No, Emmeline, he hasn't, which is why we are waiting on Albus's arrival before bringing her down to meet all of you."

"And what was she doing at Voldemort's manor in the first place? Where has she been all of this time?"

"Those are all very good questions, Elphias, but we really ought to wait—"

"When are we going to see her ourselves, then?"

"When Dumbledore says you will," Molly said firmly. "And not a moment sooner!"

"But that's ridiculous," Doge insisted. "We ought to be able to have a look at least—"

"Dumbledore clearly said—" and the rest of what Remus was saying was lost among the many voices that broke out, once again, into heated conversation. Sirius made his way farther into the kitchen, greeting Order members. Remus appeared to have given up, and was talking now with just Molly and Arthur Weasley and Alastor Moody.

"What's this about, then?" he asked, coming to stand beside his best friend. Remus, he noted, looked rather better than he had seen him in some time. Curious…

"Dumbledore called the meeting, but he's tied up at the Ministry with the Board of Governors," Arthur said. "Everyone's getting impatient, though. Hopefully he gets here soon. This lot is likely to break down the door–"

"Sirius," Remus interjected, taking his friend by the arm and steering him out of the kitchen, "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure thing, Moony," he replied, even more curious and now just a bit worried. They made it out of the throng and down the hallway to the first floor study. Remus closed the door behind him quietly, and then sealed it with privacy charms.

"I found her, Sirius," Remus said finally, looking him dead in the eye. Those amber irises were practically glowing with excitement.

"Who?"

"Harri."

Sirius just stared at him. Suddenly, he understood the look in his friend's eyes – hope was there, for the first time since Lily and James…

"Are you sure? Remus, where – "

"I know it's her, Paddy, I know it. I know her scent like I know yours." Remus was speaking in a low, excited voice, moving towards him. "I found her the night of the raid."

"In the Dark Lord's manor?" Sirius said, slowly, remembering the conversation in the kitchen. This thought caused even more confusion in his heart and mind. Could it really be true?

"Do you want to see her?" Sirius just nodded, still rather speechless in his shock. He let his friend guide him out of the study and up the stairs. At the third floor landing, they stopped just short of the guestroom door.

"I'll let you have your time, Padfoot," Remus said, patting him on the shoulder. "I need to get back downstairs and wait for Albus."

Sirius remained frozen before the door. He had always known that she was alive. The Black Family Tree hung in his parent's old room – his room now – hidden from the view of others. It did not say Harriet Potter on the tapestry, but Persephone Black. He would remove the spell keeping it from view and stare at that name for hours. If she had died, it would have been recorded on the cloth, automatically, in dark green thread. He had not looked at it in over two years, afraid that he might see a new date under her name.

It was the one secret he had ever kept from Remus – the one thing that he vowed never to mention after the Potter's deaths. He would not betray Lily's memory with the truth of her daughter. Without revealing Harriet's true parentage, there was no way for Sirius to prove that his niece still lived. And still, he knew she was alive, knew it for a fact, even though no one else believed. Even Remus had begun to lose his conviction. But, Sirius had never really thought that he would ever see his niece again.

Yet, here she was, on the other side of that door. There were so many questions, so much heart ache… and for the first time in nearly a decade, Sirius felt like crying. His family was home. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the door knob and entered the room.

* * *

I saw the door open, and a man entered the room. He had been standing outside of the door for some minutes, quiet, unmoving. I had felt his presence as soon as he had come up the stairs with the wolf – Remus. His magic was strong, mostly light but more like the luster of old silver than the brilliant, glittering aura of Albus Dumbledore. There was something familiar about the presence, something like that I felt when Remus was around – a niggling feeling in the back of my mind that I could not shake.

He was tall, with dark hair that hung in smooth waves around his face, not quite long enough to reach his shoulders. He wore battered looking dragon hide robes – Auror's robes – and he needed a shave. His eyes were a stormy blue-grey; they stared at me with a look of shock and recognition.

We remained silent, taking the other in. I noticed little things about him, about his face, that reminded me of my own. The line of his jaw, the way his brow arched… so many similarities. I noticed then, the silver ring worn on his left hand. The crest of the Noble House was engraved, surrounded by emeralds. I would know that ring anywhere, though I had only ever seen a picture of it. About my neck was a long silver chain, with the smaller fellow of that ring strung upon it.

So this was Sirius Black, my Lord and kin. Would he reveal my true name to Dumbledore? Had he already?

No… from the two conversations I had had with the Light Lord, he believed me to be (or claim to be) Harriet Potter and no one else. I was under the impression that no one in the Order knew about Lily Potter's first lover, which meant that Lord Black had kept this information to himself. Did that mean that I could trust him? Should I acknowledge my real name?

Pure blood tradition dictated that I address the Head of the Family as such, to show respect. I was his willed heir, as well. Though my aunts had done their best to teach me my duties as heir, I could not fully complete my duties without the Head – there was a ceremony that had to be completed before I had access to the full magic of the family.

He still had not spoken, and seemed unlikely to. I got out of bed, slowly due to the stiffness in my body, and sank to the floor in as graceful a pose as I could manage. My knees protested, but I held my body with a hard won control, and was proud that I did not shake with the effort.

"Per aspera ad astra," I said, giving the greeting said only to the Head. He had not betrayed my identity, that I knew of, and there was some protection afforded me as his heir. It was possible, not likely, but possible that this man could be my means of escape.

"Astra non mentuitur." He replied automatically, murmuring the words, but he looked surprised at himself.

What happened next was wholly unexpected. The Lord of House Black fell to his knees and wrapped me in an embrace fierce enough that I had difficulty breathing. He said nothing, but I could feel his shoulders shake, and felt the wetness of tears against my shoulder. Unsure how to respond, I remained still and silent, and let the man cry.

* * *

Sirius breathed in the scent of her hair. Lilies… Merlin, she smelled like lilies! He wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around her small frame, comforted in how solid she felt, how real. She was real, she was here, they had found her.

And she knew who he was! She had given him the greeting that he had not heard in nearly twenty years – the greeting that he had last heard when his father had died, on Black Family greeting for the head of the house…

But then…

Sirius released his goddaughter, and looked into her eyes searchingly – those eyes, so like their Lily's eyes, such a startling, pure emerald green… If she had given him that greeting, then she knew. She knew who she was, who her parents had been… But she had not said this to Remus or Albus, surely. Moony would have mentioned it to him – all he had said, all that any of them has said, was that Harriet Potter had returned.

"You know me," he said finally, more a statement than a question. He saw a brief flash of uncertainty in her gaze, and then nothing. Her mask was near perfect, that emotionless face that all pure bloods learned to wear in public. Never show fear, never show doubt, never show triumph…

"Yes, Uncle." Her voice was soft but deep, lyrical in the way that Regulus's had been.

"Have you—?"

"Told anyone? No," she said, finishing the sentence for him with a shake of her head. All that think, curly black hair swished back and forth with her movement. "Do you wish me to?"

"I…" And he didn't know how to respond. He had kept the truth a secret for so very long. Could he break that trust now? Did it matter?

There was some prophecy that Dumbledore hinted at every so often, when the subject of Harri came up – it stated Harri specifically as the key to Voldemort's downfall. Did this girl's true name affect that prophecy? Names could hold very powerful magic, and true names could be used to bind a witch, to track her, to call her magic… It that case, the wording of the prophecy was important to know. If it was Harriet was named in the prophecy, then it did matter… But did he want her in that much danger? He had always disagreed with Albus on the matter – if she was ever found, the Light Lord wanted to train her, to prepare her to fulfill the prophecy. Sirius was not about to let the last surviving member of his family, his heir, be trained to fight the Dark Lord. It was suicide…

"No," he said, though not completely sure. Something in his voice must have revealed his reluctance, because she said,

"Why shouldn't they know who I am? Is it because of my father?"

"Yes. No one knew about your mother's relationship with… Regulus. He was a Death Eater." She did not appear to be surprised by this information, but even curiouser, she did not recoil at the idea as so many had.

"He was killed by the Dark Lord before her marriage to James Potter."

"That is not true," she said, with a passion that startled him. "He was drowned by Inferi."

"Who are controlled by Voldemort, it is the same –"

"No, he knew nothing of it until Regulus was already dead. He did not murder my father."

Why did she sound so sure? They had never found Regulus's body – Sirius had never heard that he had been killed at the hands of Inferi. It was his cousin Bellatrix who had owled the news that yet another Black son wasn't good enough for the Dark Lord's service. Lily herself believed that Regulus had been murdered. So, how could his niece sound as if she knew, for fact, the contrary?

It was then that Remus's words came to the front of his mind – she had been found in the Dark Lord's manor.

"Persephone," he said, using the name on purpose, "where have you been this time?"

"I thought the tapestry would have shown –"

"Sirius, Albus is here. We need you downstairs," came Remus's voice through the door.

"We have much to discuss, Uncle. I ask that you keep my secrets as I keep yours," Persephone asked, voice low, as if she knew that Remus could hear from the landing two floors below if she spoke louder than a whisper.

"Yes."

"Swear it." That look was back in her eyes that he did not understand, a passion that he had only seen in her mother's eyes once, on the night she was born, when he had learned the horrible truth.

"By blood and the stars, I swear it," he said formally. She nodded, satisfied, and only then did he see the hint of a smile around her eyes and mouth.

He stood, and helped her back to her bed. As soon as she laid down, her eyelids fluttered shut. He left the room quietly, taking one last look at her as the door closed.

He moved down the hall, but stopped at the first door before the landing. His parent's room. The door opened silently – its hinges no doubt carefully oiled by Kreacher this afternoon. There were no lights in this room, and there was little to see in the darkness. Sirius cast a silent Lumos; he did not have to go far into the room to find the Black Family tapestry, fastened prominently to the wall. The thing was enormous – magically expanding with each new generation.

He moved his wand down the center bottom. His name was at the very bottom – the direct line heir. Next to his name was Regulus, in smaller script. A line connected Regulus to Lillian Potter (nee Evans), which gave way to a single line that led to Persephone Aurora… Riddle? A thick gold line connected Persphone's name to another – an indication of marriage. The name at the other end was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

It was all Sirius could do to leave the room, quietly, mask his expression in a manner that would have made even his mother proud, and not faint from shock.

* * *

**Latin Translation: "Per aspera ad astra" = "through the thorns to the stars"; "Aspera non mentuitur" = "the stars never lie"**

**A/N: **Well, another chapter done. Hopefully the POV change wasn't too much. Next chapter will be a return trip to memory lane - look for it in February! As always, please take the time to read and review!


	11. Chapter 11

I closed my eyes as soon as I got into the bed, feigning exhaustion. I heard the door close slowly, and footsteps down the hall. Another door opened, and then closed again, after a moment, and footfall down the stairs. Once I was sure that my Uncle had reached the first floor and that no other was coming up to my room, I got out of bed. I took several tentative steps around the room, gaining a little strength with each step. I was mostly sore and stiff, likely bruised from where Nagini had fallen on me, but not truly injured. I needed to move, work the ache out of my body slowly.

_Where was Nagini now?_ I thought absently. _With Tom, surely_…

I was not sure that revealing so much to my Uncle had been wise, but he had taken oath, and I believed that he would protect me, for now at least. I wondered that he did not seem to know that I had married – it should have been threaded into the tapestry as soon as the bonding ceremony was complete. Perhaps he had not looked on the family tree in some time…

I concentrated on taking one step at a time, keeping my balance, walking as straight as possible. Like as not, the Lord Dumbledore would be soon coming to talk with me, perhaps with audience. I had to work on clearing my head, and gaining my composure.

It had been an emotional experience, meeting my Uncle for the first time. I had not known exactly how much of a wound remained in my heart from growing up an orphan. The look in his eyes before he had embraced me… love was there, a strong, fierce love, the love of family; it was something that I had so desperately lacked as a child. Narcissa loved me, sure, but I was never more aware of my loss than the first year spent in Malfoy Manor.

* * *

It was the September that followed my sixth birthday, and I was to begin magical education alongside the Malfoy Heir. All around me were trunks filled with my clothes and books and dolls, all lovingly packaged and placed by Ginger. I sat on my bed, watching the elf finishing the trunks. Nagini lay beside me, a great black adder nearly twice as long as I was tall. I loved her very much, just as much as Ginger, even, though she had only been with me a month. She tucked me in at night, and told me stories about great wizards and magic that she had seen. It had been Nagini who explained to me that I was a Parselmouth, and that not everyone else could understand her. She told me that her former master had been a Parselmouth, and that it was a rare gift that I should be proud of. I had asked her about her former master several times, but she would not tell me anything about him. She seemed so sad when I asked, that I was sure that he must have died.

"Why won't you come with me?" I asked Ginger again, for what was likely the hundredth time in the past few days. I was excited to be moving to Malfoy Manor, but I could not imagine what my life would be like without Ginger, or any of the other Bellthorn elves.

"My duty is to this house, Young Mistress," Ginger replied, not looking up from her work. I stroked Nagini's smooth scales absently, trying to calm myself.

"Don't you want to take care of me?"

"You is knowing that I love caring for Young Mistress," she scolded. "But Young Mistress is to become a young lady now, not a child. Ginger is only taking care of babes, and Young Mistress is not a babe anymore."

"I'm only six," I protested. "I'm not grown up. I don't want to leave you, Ginger." Tears welled up in my eyes, and my lip trembled. This was the strongest emotion I had ever felt in my young life, the first taste of grief. It was as if my sorrow was trying to choke me as it filled my throat, making it hurt, and my cheeks burned as the first drops fell from my eyes. I felt Nagini wrap herself around me, firmly, squeezing in a way that reminded me of a hug.

"_Do not be sad, young one. You do not lose your friend simply because you move to a new home. You will see her again."_

"_I will?"_ I asked, staring into those acid green eyes, trusting.

"_Yes_."

"Is it true, Ginger? Can I still come and visit you?" I asked, turning back to the elf. She came to the bed, and Nagini released enough of me so that Ginger could wrap me in her own arms.

"Of course, Young Mistress. This is always being your home, and Ginger is always being here." She held me while the rest of the tears fell, and then pulled away. She pulled a small clothe from the pocket of her apron and wiped my face. "You is not needing to cry for Ginger, Young Mistress. Ginger is only wanting smiles and laughs." I nodded solemnly, sniffling a little, feeling only slightly better.

"There now," she said, smiling at me, "Young Mistress is crying no more. You is not wanting to meet Mistress Malfoy's family with red eyes."

"No," I agreed with a little hiccup.

"And you is needing to say goodbye to the other elves, for they will miss their Young Mistress as she will miss them."

"Alright," I said. She sent me out of the room to bid my farewells. Nagini came with me. I did not know why, but the adderess seemed to make the elves nervous. I supposed it was simply that she was so much bigger, but I knew that Nagini wouldn't hurt any of them. I thought that she was very pretty, with her smooth, shiny black skin and glowing eyes.

I made my way through the house, to the kitchens and the garden, and then the many rooms that the elves were cleaning. I said goodbye to all of them, and hugged them, and promised to return as soon as I could. Bellthorn was my home, and always would be, for I loved the house and the creatures that were a part of it with my whole being. I was still sad, but I did as Ginger told me and did not cry again. By the time we finished, Ginger was in the main hall with my trunks, and we were awaiting the strike of the clock, when the Floo to Malfoy Manor would be open to Bellthorn.

"How will my trunks get there, Ginger?" I asked, truly curious. I wasn't sure that they would all fit in the great fireplace with me, even though it was big enough for two adult wizards standing together.

"I is worrying about that, Young Mistress, not you."

"Alright." The chimes sounded, and I turned to the elf that had raised me. "I love you Ginger, and I shall miss you," I said, hugging her one last time. She patted my back with her long fingers, and then straightened my cloak, and sent me into the green flame.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy returned to her private office. Harriet had arrived that morning, and was settling in to her new home. After a light lunch in the garden, she had sent the girl to arrange her room to her liking and unpack her bags.

The child had been impressed by Malfoy Manor, naturally. The Manor was considerably larger than Bellthorn, and far grander. Harriet had gazed in wonder at every bust, statue, and portrait – the treasures of the Malfoy family, displayed with a museum quality elegance that encouraged visitors to behave accordingly. She had loved the library, especially, which did not surprise Narcissa at all. She had told the girl that she was welcome there at any time, so long as she was careful with the books. Not that Harriet would ever abuse a book, of course, but rather, Narcissa wanted to make sure that the girl didn't happen upon any books that might harm _her_. She herself had not been through the entirety of the collection, despite having been mistress of Malfoy Manor for nearly ten years. There was no harm in practicing caution when it came to anything in the Manor – one never knew what sorts of artifacts had taken the fancy of a Malfoy ancestor.

Narcissa felt surprised at the pleasure she felt in having the child there. Harriet was a delightful girl. She was eager to please, quick to learn, and had a generally warm and open personality. She expressed true gratitude, so rare in a six year old, even rarer in a grown wizard. Lucius was hesitant to have the girl take lessons with Draco, but Narcissa knew that if he spent some time with Harriet that he would find nothing wanting.

Draco…

He had been upset when Narcissa had told him about Harriet coming to live with them. He was, of course, jealous of her and Lucius's attentions. It was natural, she told herself. She recalled the experience she had felt as a child when Bellatrix had been born, and told herself that Draco would adjust in time. It would be good for him to have another child to play with. Narcissa felt a pang of regret that she had been unable to give Draco a sibling. It had been a miracle that she had carried him in the first place, and the healers had declared in no uncertain terms that another child would be dangerous. Lucius was content – he had a son and heir, and so she had not failed in her duty. Still… she would have liked to have had another child. Perhaps that was why she was so attached to Harriet.

Regardless, the child was her ward. It was merely happy circumstance that she enjoyed the duty.

With a sigh, she sat down at her desk, sorting through the post. There was a small black linen envelope, sealed with green wax and the familiar ensignia of the House of Slytherin. She opened it immediately, having expected the letter.

'I require a copy of your notes. Inform me when the child is settled. I expect continued information on the child's progress.'

The Dark Lord's missive was a brief, as always. He was currently in Belgium, and likely to remain there for some months, garnering favor with the noble houses and the Belgian Ministry. Belgium was largely a neutral country, magically speaking, and while Narcissa had no doubt in the Dark Lord's skill, it would prove challenging to court the Belgians to their cause. In their favor was the fact that the Muggle Belgian government had recently attempted to force a tax on wizard landowners, without the permission or agreement of the wizarding House of Lords. The upset might be enough to convince the nobility that further contact with the Muggle world would only lead to loss of their rights.

She shuffled through the stacks of leather folios neatly arranged in the desk drawer, extracting a bulky file. These were her notes on Lily Potter's work. It had taken little effort to obtain the key to the Potter vault, considering that Narcissa was Harriet's guardian; the discretion of the Gringotts goblins was easily won, considering that the Malfoy, Black, and Potter families had been Gringotts clients for centuries. The goblins took care of their clientele, and thusly securing the influx of gold into their vaults, and held no loyalty to anyone but themselves.

The Potter's personal belongings had all been transferred to the vault prior to their placement under Fidelius. Lily's notes filled several large journals, a miriade of potions logs, experimental charms, short essays, and musings. Narcissa had sent Lily's brewing experiments to Severus over a year ago, knowing that his expertise far surpassed her own, to glean usefulness from the extensive potions notes.

What was of value to Narcissa were the pages of magical theory. It seemed that her late friend had spent years researching the nature of magic, starting with charm creation and ending with the magical origins of Muggleborns. It was a pity that Lily had never published her work - she truly had a brilliant, inventive mind, and a startling insight into the essential nature of the Light and Dark. Lily had proposed that the two branches of magic existed only in communion, and that magic itself was a balance of opposing forces. She went further, suggesting that the existence of Muggleborns came from the need to balance the magical and nonmagical populations. She pointed to data that she herself had assembled, demonstrating a surge in the occurance of Muggleborn witches and wizards in direct correlation with a rise in the Muggle population. Similarly, she highlighted decreased birth rate in the generation of wizards that followed the Muggle Dark Ages – the plague had wiped out the Muggle population, while wizards had survived, creating a dramatic increase in the ratio of the wizards to Muggles. Even the populations of magical creatures declined at the time, confirming that the magical balance worked both ways.

Her theories suggested that magic itself was almost sentient, and most definitely self regulating. If one side, Light or Dark, became overrepresented, magic compensated. The conclusion was that the frequency of powerful Dark Lords corresponded with an increase in the general use of Light magic, acting as a counterbalance. This left the rest of the Dark population weaker magically, but with stronger leaders. Lily even suggested that future generations of Muggleborns would likely tend towards Dark magic, and powerfully so. She expressed a fear, however, that magic itself was growing generally weaker.

Narcissa couldn't agree more. Current prejudice against Dark magic might prevent those born to it from practicing, which would weaken both sides. Those who naturally tended towards the Dark could use Light spells, but the effect would be much weaker than a naturally Light wizard. As more and more Muggleborns entered the wizard population, it was essential that they been allowed to foster their natural magic, not be restricted to only to the Light. Furthermore, it was necessary to keep those children in an all magical environment during their formative pre-adolescent years, in order to foster their connection with their inner magical core; the more exposure a child had to magic, the more quickly they were able to control their own power, and the more strongly their natural tendencies were felt. It would be increasingly difficult for a Dark child, raised in a Dark home, to perform Light spells, and vice versa.

At the end of the journals, it appeared that Lily had been working on a spell that would identify the magical potential of infants, so that appropriate training and education could begin even before school age. She was trying to not only be able to recognize Light and Dark, but also the myriad of subclasses of magics on both sides – divination, necromancy, elemental magic, all of it.

Needless to say, Narcissa had been fascinated by Lily's work and had spent the past two years working to complete the magical potential spell. She was nowhere near the charms mistress that Lily had been, but she hoped that with Severus's help, a combination potion and incantation might work. The Dark Lord had been pleased with her work, and in her comprehensive abstract of Lily's theories. He was using them to win over the educated minds of Light and Dark leaders alike. It was what he had been fighting for – to gain recognition for the Dark, to determine what it was that was weakening the magical population overall, and to eliminate that weakness. If they could only get the Light leaders to stop this war against the Dark and accept that they must exist together for the sake of the entire wizarding world. Lord Voldemort, she was convinced, was the only wizard alive strong enough to stand up for the Dark, and brilliant enough to lead their world back into balance.

She arranged her treatise, complete with the comprehensive population studies that Lily had conducted and Narcissa's own conclusions, and bound it with black ribbon. The ribbon had been a gift from Lucius – enchanted to prevent anyone from untying it save the intended recipient. She used it only for her communication with the Dark Lord. Completing this, she pulled out a free sheaf of parchment and penned a quick note to the Dark Lord, informing him that Harriet had arrived at the Manor that afternoon without incident, and that her lessons would begin on Monday. She provided a brief list of the subjects that would be covered by herself and Bellatrix. Narcissa knew that the Dark Lord would likely respond with amendments to her lesson plans, but she hoped that there would not be many.

His interest in the child had not faded in all these years, and despite his busy schedule, every week, Narcissa faithfully reported Harriet's progress and activities and received a brief response from the Dark Lord in return, expressing simply his pleasure or dissatisfaction with her report. She had yet to uncover the mystery of her Lord's interest in the child, but had long since suspected that Harriet might be his own daughter. Lucius vehemently disagreed, insisting that while Lily had been favored, she had never been shown such interest. Still… what other explanation was there? The child was a Parselmouth, after all. The trait could only be inherited, either by blood or magic. If she was not Voldemort's blood heir, it was also possible that he intended to make her his magical heir and had transferred some of his power to that effect. She was powerful – as a babe Harriet had shown great potential, and as she grew, Narcissa felt the child's magic more and more. Already her aura rivaled Narcissa's own, smelling strongly of vanilla and mint. She had not seen much in the way of accidental magic from the child, however, nor had Ginger ever reported an incident. This was somewhat of a concern – Draco had had several bursts of magic by age four. The Dark Lord was concerned with this as well. It had occurred to her that Nagini was there to watch the child on the Dark Lord's behalf. Narcissa hoped that with the child residing in the manor, she would have greater opportunity to observe her.

Narcissa looked up as a house elf appeared before her with a soft pop.

"Mistress is needed upstairs!" the elf exclaimed in high pitched alarm. She was wringing her hands in the fabric of her tea towel dress, anxiously darting her eyes from Narcissa to the ceiling and back.

"What is it Winny?" Narcissa asked, rising immediately, body tensing with worry.

"Is the Young Master Draco, Mistress Malfoy! He is hurting himself! Winny be trying to stop it, Mistress! Winny is a bad, bad elf for not stopping Young Master!"

"Take me to him," Narcissa commanded, grabbing the elf's hand before she could begin gnawing at her fingers.

* * *

"_Isn't it wonderful, Nagini?"_ I whispered to the snake, taking in the enormous play room.

My bedroom was almost as big as the Rose Library back at Bellthorn, with a huge soft bed and lots of stuffed dolls on a bench that sat under the window. My room was on the third floor, and the window looked down into the main gardens. There were two other doors in my bedroom – one of which led to a bathroom that had a tub and sink all sized so that I could reach them, and the other which led into the play room.

There was a large circular table set rather low to the ground, with little stools tucked under it. Two walls of the room were lined with books, and to my delight, I found some of my favorites from the Bellthorn library within easy reach on the shelves. Another wall was covered by a black board.

'This must be where we will receive our lessons,' I thought excitedly.

"_It is very nice, child,"_ Nagini hissed. By her tone I could tell that she liked the room too, and she set off in another direction to investigate.

I walked over to the bookshelves and sat down before them, looking over the titles and deciding whether or not I wanted to read while I waited for Narcissa to come and fetch me. I pulled a few into my lap, undecided.

"Those are mine!" came an angry voice. I looked up and saw a little boy storming across the room at me. He had the same color hair as Narcissa, a pale butter yellow, but his eyes reminded me of Lucius Malfoy.

This must be Draco.

I stood, brushing my skirt in to place nervously, and put on my best smile. I hadn't ever spent time around those my own age. Was I supposed to curtsey? I wasn't entirely sure… I could barely feel any power coming from his body – not the way that adults felt to me – and it was difficult to judge where I stood in comparison.

"Hello, my name is Harriet," I said, at last, offering my hand. He stood before me, mouth a thin line, cheeks pink as if he had been running for a long time. He was an inch or so taller than me, but I was used to everyone being taller, so that didn't bother me. As he stared at me, though, those grey eyes looking so angry, I felt myself growing nervous. Was there something on my face?

"Who told you that you could touch my books?" he demanded, sounding just like his father.

"No one," I replied, unsure what I had done to make him angry. "I didn't know that they were yours."

"I am a Malfoy," he said imperiously. "That means everything here is mine. You have no right to touch anything."

"I live here too," I said, starting to get upset. I had never in my wildest dreams thought that Narcissa's son would be so disagreeable.

"But you aren't a Malfoy," he snarled, as if that explained everything. "You're just a stupid Half-Blood orphan, and you aren't allowed to touch my things!"

"Take that back!" I said, feeling tears come to my eyes. What had I done to him? Why did he hate me so much? I had never been in a confrontation in my life – I had never had a cross word with anyone. What right did he have to be so cruel?

"I will not!" he yelled, reaching out and shoving me hard enough that fell back. My arms flailed out trying to catch something to balance on, but I just ended up hitting my wrist hard against the bookshelf instead. My wrist hurt badly, and my face screwed up in pain.

"Remember that, orphan, before you come near my things," he said nastily, standing over me with his arms crossed. "You don't belong here."

I began crying in earnest, holding my wrist against my stomach.

I didn't see what happened next. I only heard the sound of something hitting the carpet and a muffled cry. Looking up, I saw that Nagini had wrapped her massive body around Draco and was squeezing him tightly enough that he couldn't move. He stared up at her in horror, eyes wide.

"_Nagini, stop!"_ I cried, scrambling to my feet.

"_This nasty little worm has no right to speak to you that way,"_ she hissed angrily, _"You are worth ten of his kind, more powerful than he could ever hope to be!"_

"_Nagini, you'll hurt him! Stop, please!"_ She gave me a look, and then let him go.

"_He will never be grateful for your kindness. Learn that now, Harri."_

To make things worse, Narcissa opened the door of the play room that moment. She looked to Draco first, then to Nagini, and finally, to me.

"Explain, Harriet," she said, voice stern.

"He - he frightened me," I said quickly, "I yelled and Nagini thought he had hurt me. She was just protecting me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, but I couldn't look into her eyes while I did. I hated myself for lying, but I just couldn't tell Narcissa what Draco had said to me. He was her son, after all, and I was just an orphan that she had to take care of. He would blame me, I knew, and make her hate me, and then I would have to leave.

"Very well. Winny," Narcissa said, and a worried looking house elf appeared from around her skirts, "Take Draco to his room and bring my bag of potions, please."

"Of course Mistress," the elf said, and then quickly scooped up the unconscious Draco in her arms and disappeared. Narcissa came to me, kneeling down and reaching for my hand.

"Harriet, what happened to your wrist?"

"I fell, and I hit it against the bookshelf," I replied. At least that wasn't a lie. Narcissa looked into my eyes, and I almost blurted out the truth. She was the closest thing to a mother that I had – surely she would believe me!

"Let me fix it for you," she said softly. She drew out her wand and with a flicking movement, she tapped it against my wrist. Immediately the pain went away, and I sighed in relief. "You need to be careful here, Harriet."

I nodded solemnly. "I will."

* * *

**A/N:** As promised, another chappie this month. I'm sure you think this isn't fast enough, but I'm rather proud of myself... Anywho, this begins one of several chapters that deal with Persephone's life at Malfoy Manor. This is going to skip around in time a bit, covering years 6-12, but the sooner I cover this, the sooner we get back to present day. As usual, please read and review.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Been a long time, dear readers. This chapter dedicated to Brandy Bandshoe.**

* * *

I slammed my door shut behind me as soon as I was in the room.

"_Harri-?"_

"_I can't stand it, Gini, I can't!" _I cried, flinging myself on my bed. My hair had fallen out of its braid, and I knew that my dress was dirty and torn from where Draco had pushed me into the rose bushes. I could feel the stinging cuts on my arms where the thorns had bitten into flesh, and knew that some of them were bleeding. My eyes burned already with tears. I felt Nagini's weight on the bed as she slid on top of the comforter beside me, her tail curling around my back, stroking gently.

"_What did that nasty runt do this time?"_

"_It's my fault," _I said into the covers. _"If I was a better witch I would have been able to stop him."_

"_That's ridiculous," _the serpent hissed angrily, _"You are the most powerful witch I've ever seen."_

"_I can't even cast a simple shield spell, Gini. Draco cast a disarming jinx at me. I _should_ have been able to block it. I can't cast anything!"_

"_What were you using?"_

"_This stupid wand, of course," _I spat angrily, throwing the miserable stick across the room. I sat up, wiping my eyes and sniffling. _"Draco's right. I'm useless as a witch. We've been taking lessons for almost a year, and Draco gets every spell Madame Black shows us, and I can't light my wand. I've read everything I can, and practice and practice-"_

"_There is nothing you cannot do, Harriet," _Nagini replied, her tone firm. _"You can cast spells perfectly when you aren't trying to force it with that ridiculous bit of wood. If you would just used your hands-"_

"_That's not how you're supposed to do it, Gini. A proper witch can cast magic with her wand. I've been able to cast spells with my hands since I was a baby. It isn't even hard."_

"_Exactly my point, child. What you can do is much more difficult."_

"_Then why don't all of the adults use their hands?"_

"Harriet? Are you in there?" Narcissa's voice asked through the door.

"Yes," I replied quickly, trying to sound calm. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Are you alright?" I could hear concern in her voice.

"Yes, I'm just changing my dress for dinner." I held my breath and waited, hoping that she wouldn't open the door. If she came in and saw me like this, she would ask what had happened, and I would have to lie to her. In the time that I had been here, I had received no rest from Draco's tormenting. But I just couldn't bring myself to tell Narcissa about it. Draco had never done or said anything hurtful to me in his mother's presence – had even given me a present on my birthday two weeks ago, and wished me well. He had been very careful so that if I ever revealed his cruelty, it would be a simple matter of my word against his. I wanted to think that Narcissa would believe me if I did tell the truth, even over her own son, and for that very reason, I couldn't tell her. As much as I hated Draco's treatment, and thought him a bully, I had no right to make his mother angry with him; it was the only mother he had, and I would hate myself for causing any argument between them.

On the other hand, part of me felt like Draco was right. I was a terrible witch. Madame Black had told me that I was hopeless more than once. In some way, maybe I deserved what Draco did to me. He would wait until we were alone, and then challenge me.

Today was no different.

_I had been reading on a stone bench near the roses. I heard footsteps and looked up. Draco had just come round the corner of the hedge, carrying his broom in one hand. I felt my stomach tighten, and my heart began beating faster._

"_There's the Half-Breed," he sneered, spotting me and coming straight to the bench. "No use reading all of those, you know. You're clearly too stupid to understand it."_

"_Please leave me alone, Draco," I said softly, keeping my eyes lowered. It only served to irritate him if I looked him in the eye. _

"_I can be fair," he continued, as if I hadn't said a word. I could hear the steel in his voice and braced myself for violence. "I'll even count to three before I curse you. If you can cast a proper shield charm, then I'll leave. Fair, isn't it?"_

"_Draco, please –" I said, pulling my wand out, but not holding it aloft. Draco, on the other hand, had his training wand pointed directly at my face._

"_One."_

"_Draco, I don't want to fight you-"_

"_Two."_

"_This is stupid. Draco, stop," I pleaded. In my panic, I could feel my magic bubbling up inside of me, filling my whole body, demanding to be released. It was a useless gesture – I could call the magic, but I couldn't channel it. I closed my eyes, knowing that there was no chance, but preparing to cast the shield regardless._

"_Three. Expelliarmus!"_

"_Protego!" I cried. My wand tip sparked futilely, and I could feel the pressure of the spell left uncast, hurting my lungs, making it difficult to breath. The jinx hit me a moment later, sending me directly into the rose bushes behind, my wand flying from my hand._

_I could hear Draco laughing maliciously. He kicked my wand back towards me, where I lay, sitting in the mud and thorns, trying not to cry._

"_Can't even use a wand," he sneered. "Better learn how to do laundry, Half-Blood, and maybe you can work as a house-elf." He left me there, and all I could hear was his laughter as it slowly faded in the distance._

I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard Narcissa's footsteps retreating from my door.

"_Next time you should just use your hand, Harri. I think it will surprise you to see what happens," _Nagini said quietly.

"_And have Draco make fun of me for that too?" _I hissed back. "_No thank you."_

"_Try Harri. For me." _I sighed in defeat, running a hand over Nagini's rough belly scales. Her response reminded me of a dog when you scratched its belly – not that I would ever tell her that. The serpent hissed contentedly and curled her body around me in her equivalent of a hug.

"_Alright, Gini. I'll try."_ I detached myself from her and set about making myself cleaner and more presentable so that I could go down for dinner and pretend that nothing had happened.

I would like to say that my life at Malfoy Manor improved. I did take some joy in Narcissa's company, and was happy to have her near me. Our lessons were interesting, despite my own frustrations with spellcasting, and I enjoyed history, theory and potions. I showed some natural talent for the latter, and worked hard to please Narcissa. Narcissa herself was the instructor for those subjects, as well as social etiquette. Her sister, Madame Black, was our other tutor, and was in charge of charms, dark arts, and practical spellcasting. She taught us to duel that first year, and, I thought, got some pleasure out of watching her nephew beat me soundly every time. Madame Black did not reside in the Manor, and for that I was grateful.

I did not meet other children, although Draco had visitors to the house quite frequently. On these occasions, I was sent to my rooms or went into town with Narcissa – disguised, of course. I knew their names. We had been made to memorize all of the pureblood family lines, which was primarily for Draco's benefit as he would befriend and interact with those people socially. Draco was forbidden to tell anyone that I lived in the house, a fact that bewildered me greatly. I wondered if the Malfoys were ashamed of me, ashamed of my Muggleborn mother, and didn't want anyone to know that they harbored a half-blood in their home. Narcissa insisted that it was for my protection, but I always felt that nagging doubt.

Lucius never demonstrated any interest in me, and indeed, seemed to take pains to avoid me whenever possible. He doted on his son, however, and there were always trips and presents and special outings that Draco was allowed and I was not. Narcissa tried to compensate, and bought me new books and dresses when I fancied them, but I knew that her husband did not approve of the expense.

For his part, Draco continued to eschew venom in my direction whenever possible. He openly put me down in the presence his Aunt, for she did nothing to discourage his taunting and malice. In front of Narcissa, he never betrayed his true feelings for me, nor before his father, although I do not think that Lucius would have been disapproving. He let me know that he hated me; he hated me for my mother, for being in his house, for having a claim on Narcissa's affection… I suffered many bruises at his hands, and even more wounds to my pride.

Without Narcissa, and Nagini, my life would have been terrible indeed. But I loved Narcissa, and tried to be good for her. I was dedicated to my studies, and practiced with my wand as often as possible, futile though it was. I learned the pureblood traditions with the same fervor that Draco did, though I would never use the lessons myself. I tried to find happiness where I could, because she did not like to see me melancholy.

With Nagini's help, I learned to do all the spells that I could not do with my wand with my thoughts alone. She was very patient, and knew much more about magic than I could have imagined. By mastering the spells first without the wand, I found it somewhat easier to perform them with the wand. Still, the results were never as good, and at times, I couldn't cast at all.

I thought that her previous owner must have been a very powerful wizard, indeed, because of the number and variety of spells she was able to teach me. She referred to him every so often, when she would say, _"My Tom would find you very funny,"_ or _"You learned to do that even faster than Tom did!"_ as though comparing her children's accomplishments. If I asked about him directly, though, she would change the subject. She seemed so sad at times, and I knew that it was because she missed him. I thought, sometimes, that Tom must have died. This made me only love Nagini more, because we were all the other had left to care for.

* * *

Samhain was in three days. This was one of the most important holidays in the wizarding year, and the Malfoys had planned an extravagant ball that would open the season. There was a special significance this year because Draco was finally seven years old and could begin his training as the Malfoy heir. He would be the first of the pureblood children in his circle to do so. There would be a ceremony at exactly midnight in which Lucius would bestow the Malfoy heir ring upon his son, and Draco would take the vows of honor demanded by the family codex.

Draco, of course, had been intolerable for the past week, and I had done everything to avoid his presence. I would be allowed to attend the ball, which was a rare treat, but I would have to be disguised as usual. Still, I was excited to stand with the seamstress that morning for the final fitting on my dress for the occasion. It would be dark green satin with black lace and flowers, and a matching black velvet jacket. It was the prettiest thing I had ever seen, and I couldn't wait to wear it.

I sat on a stool, my fitting done, and watched while the seamstress worked on Narcissa's gown. She would wear navy and silver, the Malfoy colors, as would Lucius and Draco. She looked beautiful in blue of any shade, and the richness of the velvet outerrobe made her eyes look at the same time darker and clearer. I couldn't help but smile as I watched, content to just sit and watch.

The floor length mirror in Narcissa's dressing room had three panels so that she could see herself from every angle. She was scrutinizing herself now, taking in every detail of the costume, and finally nodding ever so slightly in satisfaction.

"That is all I require, Lady Malfoy," the seamstress, Madame Malkin, said, rising from the floor where she had been pinning the hem of the robe. "These should be ready by tomorrow. And I will deliver them myself."

"Thank you, Madame," Narcissa replied. "Your work is, as always, the best." Madame Malkin thanked her graciously and stepped out of room to allow Narcissa to change back into her clothes.

"Are you excited about the ball, Harriet?"

"Oh, yes," I said truthfully. The energy of the Manor had increased exponentially over the past weeks as the preparations began. The flurry of activity was apparent in every part of the Manor – the house elves were going to lengths to polish every surface, wizard gardeners and florists and decorators were in and out of the Manor, and of course, Narcissa herself had been busy with invitations and responses, as well as organizing all of the work.

"There are going to be many important people there. The Dark Lord himself might attend."

She stared at me through the mirror, waiting to catch my reaction to this. I didn't know much about the Dark Lord, other than Madame Black's crooning, and Draco's boasts that the Malfoys were in favor with him. I knew that he was important, and a very powerful wizard, and that even those who seemed to respect him also feared him.

"That would make Draco happy," I replied. Narcissa smiled.

"Yes. It would be a great honor for our whole family." She hung the unfinished gown on the mirror and then turned to face me directly. "The Dark Lord might ask for you, Harriet."

"Me?" I asked faintly, rather disconcerted. "Why?"

She looked at me searchingly, before deciding what to say. "You should know, Harriet, that it was the Dark Lord who found you the night that your parents died. He brought you to me."

To this, I had no response. There were so many things that came flooding through my mind at once; could he tell me how my parents died? Did he know them? What was he like? Would he like me? How could I tell him just how grateful I was that he had given me Narcissa when my own mother was gone?

The door to the dressing room opened and Twilly, one of Narcissa's personal house elves, entered and curtseyed deeply.

"Mistress, Twilly is announcing the Gringott's goblin, Hornbeak." Indeed, a rather stern looking goblin in formal attire entered the room behind her.

"Thank you, Twilly. Master Hornbeak, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Narcissa asked, stepping off of the dressmaker's stool and extending her hand to the goblin. Hornbeak reached his long, rough-skinned fingers and barely touched hers. He cleared his throat in a gruff, rasping cough, and, extracting a pair of thick lavender envelopes from his breast pocket and held them out for Narcissa.

"It is my obligation today," the goblin said, his voice as graveled as his cough, "to deliver the Heirloom Signet of the Houses Malfoy and Black to one Narcissa Aglaia Black Malfoy, who, by right of blood and magic, may bestow said articles upon the worthy scions as determined by the respective Codex Sanguinae."

"I accept responsibility," Narcissa replied, her tone formal. The goblin nodded and relinquished the envelopes. With a deep bow, he let himself out. Narcissa walked to the dressing room door and closed it, staring at the parchment in her hand.

"What was that about?" I asked, extremely curious and near to bursting from remaining silent through the short exchange.

"These are Heir rings, for the Malfoy and Black families." She began to open the first envelope, marked with the seal of the House of Black. "I didn't think that Draco would be able to receive this," she said, more to herself than to me. "Surely Sirius wouldn't…"

"Sirius Black? Your cousin?"

Narcissa nodded. "He is the Lord of my family, but he hasn't spoken to any of us in years. He is on the opposite side of the war. I thought he would have named another heir."

This was all somewhat vague for me – I knew the history of the Blacks, of course, but I wasn't clear on what war Narcissa was referring to, or why she would be on the opposite side as her family. I watched Narcissa as she pulled a sheet of parchment from the envelope, hoping that she would provide more information. What I did not expect, however, was the exclamation the came from her lips as she fainted dead away.

* * *

I stood nervously, pulling at the hem of my jacket.

"You will do just fine," Narcissa said soothingly, straightening my collar. "There is no need to be nervous." She turned as her husband whispered to her.

Beside me, Draco gave me a venomous glance. A very small, petty part of me enjoyed that he was hating this so much. I squashed that down under the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach. I was excited in a sense – finally, for the first time in my life, I knew that I belonged right where I was standing. I could hear the murmuring and the soft lull of music coming from the room before us.

Lucius motioned to the house elves and the doors to the ballroom opened before us. A flood of light and sound came pouring out, and I saw the hundreds of wizards and witches turn towards us. Magically magnified, Madame Lestrange's voice came booming out over the rest of the party,

"And now, may I present our honored guests, the Heir Draco Lucius Malfoy and Heiress Persephone Aurora Black."

Draco and I walked into the ballroom to the applause of the guests and made our way to the head table, place on a platform opposite the door. The crowd parted as we passed, and there were many congratulations given to Draco and curious looks granted to me. I smiled at the crowd, as Narcissa told me to, and it was then that I noticed a very strong magical presence in the room. Casting my eyes about, I tried to find the source, but none of the guests standing immediately on either side of us was giving off that much energy.

"You're still a half-blood freak," Draco hissed at me, keeping that proper smile for the party the whole while.

"You're just jealous, cousin," I replied. We mounted the platform and waited for Narcissa and Lucius to take their seats between us. Madame Lestrange – who had been insisting for an entire two days that I call her "Aunt Bella" – was already seated to my right. Draco would be a safe distance on the opposite side of Lucius.

Narcissa and her husband gave a few words of greeting and thanks and then signaled to the orchestra to begin playing. There was a magnificent feast, and there would be dancing, and at midnight, Lucius and Draco would leave the ballroom to complete the Heir ceremony. I would leave with Narcissa and Madame Lestrange, but this was all for show – I would likely never complete the ceremony, seeing as Lord Black did not even know that I existed. Regardless of this, Madame Lestrange had emphatically vowed, I would be taught everything that I needed to know.

Between the Malfoys was an empty seat at the exact center of the table. This was a space reserved for the Dark Lord, who was supposedly at the ball in disguise. When I asked Narcissa about this, she told me that because he was so powerful and important that he had many enemies and that it would be dangerous for him to be there unmasked. I felt some sympathy for the Dark Lord, having spent many years of my life in hiding.

His seat would remain empty, but to those who supported him, its presence was necessary.

An hour or so later, dinner was finished and the Malfoys and Draco had taken to the dance floor. Too shy to engage in conversation with anyone, I managed to find an alcove to sit in and watched the guests, content to see the beautiful gowns of the ladies swirling as they were led by their partners across the floor. I spied Draco with his crowd of friends, determinedly ignoring me. That was fine in my opinion. I wondered if perhaps I would be allowed to know other children my age – surely not all of them were friends with Draco?

I began to get sleepy, as the hours passed, up long past my usual bedtime.

"_Why are you hiding, child?"_

I looked up. A wizard was standing next to the alcove, seemingly watching the party. I could see only half of his face, and watched as one of the purest sapphire eyes I had ever seen turn to me. It was him! This was the presence that I had felt when I first walked into the room! But it was so much less now… could a wizard learn to hide how much magic they had? Why would they want to?

"_I don't know anyone here,"_ I replied finally.

"_But isn't this your party?"_

"_It's more Draco's party than mine."_

"_Are you not excited to begin your training?"_

"_I haven't known about this long enough to be excited about it."_

The wizard snorted at this and his lips curved into a smile. His smile made me feel like smiling, so I did.

"_You have potential, Persephone. More so than anyone else in this room." _

I blushed and smiled more broadly.

"_Thank you." _We remained silent for a time, watching the party. _"How do you keep your magic so much lower than it is?" _I asked, unable to curb my curiosity any longer. The wizard turned and looked at me fully. He had a pleasant face, and I felt myself blushing again under the full gaze of those eyes.

"_Maybe I will teach you some day," _he said, smiling. _"I think you will need to learn how."_

"Persephone?"

I turned and saw Narcissa approaching the alcove. She spotted the wizard next to me and froze.

"My Lord," she whispered, bowing her head.

"Lady Malfoy," the wizard replied. "A lovely party."

"You are most gracious, my Lord. I need to take Persephone now," she said, motioning for me to come to her. "It is getting close to midnight."

"Of course." He turned and knelt down so that he was at eye level with me. He gathered my hands in his, and I felt a jolt of warmth travel up my arms at the contact. "I look forward to seeing you again, Persephone. Very soon." With that, he rose, nodded to Narcissa, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Who was that, Narcissa?" I asked, taking her hand and moving through the crowd, back toward the platform.

"What did he say to you?"

"He said that I have potential and that he's going to teach me some day." She looked back at me and I got the feeling that she was unhappy about something, but I wasn't sure what it was.

"That was the Dark Lord, Persephone. And you must always be very careful around him."

* * *

**A/N: **Hope this was worth the wait! I covered a lot of ground here. It will be a bit before I can get another chappie up, but the next one will jump ahead to Persephone's 16th birthday and the start of her courtship.

Please review!


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So, here it is! A new chapter! FINALLY! (Grins) Thank you so much to my faithful readers - this chapter is dedicated to you all. I hope that you approve. Please review. **

* * *

"I can't believe it's finally here!"

"Stop being ridiculous, Daphne."

"But we're going to be out! Officially!"

"Oh, how silly of me. I didn't realize. Allow me to find a jar to contain my excitement."

I smiled and turned to watch my friends as they bantered back and forth. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were sitting on my bed; Daphne was on her knees, doe eyed with an expression of near ecstasy on her face, while Tracey had her arms crossed before her, rolling her eyes skyward in exasperation. They had just arrived at the Manor and would stay with me over the next week while preparations for my birthday party were underway. I was just finishing dressing for our trip into Daigon Alley to meet with Madame Malkin. I would go in disguise, as I always did when in public, but I had long since learned to perform the Glamour myself.

Thankfully, we didn't have to go with Draco this time. In the first place, I couldn't stand the little weasel. Secondly, Daphne had the most distasteful affection for him.

Within a few short months of learning who I really was, my entire life had changed. Aunt Bella became determined to teach me to spellcast properly. I finally gave in, tossed my training wand aside and just used my hands. Draco was unconscious for nearly two days. I cast wandlessly thereafter.

Draco and I continued to take our lessons together, but we had the added weekly visits by the children (and Heirs) of the other pureblood families that the Malfoys socialized with. I was drawn to Daphne and Tracey immediately – they both had the strongest magical energy of all of the others and they didn't fawn over Draco. I enjoyed Daphne's extroverted energy and optimism, and valued Tracey's level-headedness and sharp wit. They had been my best friends for years, and it was with their help that I was able to find the confidence that it took to stand up for myself.

"I just can't believe that we only have a month left of summer," Daphne said with a dramatic sigh, collapsing against the bed.

"Then we'll just have to make the most of it," I said, standing and pulling on my cloak.

"Why can't you just come with us, Seph?"

"Because it's dangerous, you twit."

Daphne pulled a face at Tracey before turning back to me.

"Seriously, though. What is so terrible about Hogwarts?"

"I just can't attend, Daphne, you know that," I replied with a sigh. It was an old argument that had begun on my eleventh birthday. I had been told by Narcissa that I would not be going to Hogwarts that fall with Draco and my friends. As with most things in my life, there was some allusion to a danger and a need to be safeguarded. I trusted Narcissa's judgment, and I had come to accept the secrecy as a part of my life.

That did not prevent me, however, from longing to go with my friends every September and get to learn at Hogwarts. Some of the greatest witches and wizards of the age had taught and studied inside of its prestigious halls, and a part of me longed to gain experience beyond what Bella could teach me. I bought the same textbooks that Draco used and read them every year, determined to not miss out on anything that my peers were learning. It did please me a little when I was able to master something before Draco had, and I was proud when I could help my friends learn a new spell or brew a particularly complicated potion.

Bella continued to tutor me throughout the year, and trained me in dueling, etiquette, and the Black Family Codex. There were some secrets that could be taught by the Head of House only, but Bella was determined that I be trained as a proper Heir regardless. This tutelage would culminate with my birthday ball, when I would be regarded as a young Lady, eligible for courtship and marriage. It would be the beginning of my adult life, and I would be allowed to attend the social functions that children were not allowed to. My birthday itself would be a small affair, by Malfoy standards, consisting only of those friends of the family who were deemed worthy enough to be trusted with the secret of my actual relationship to Narcissa and Bellatrix. I was a Black, and while it was still one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain, the House was in turmoil and little was known about me. Very few people were told that I was the daughter of Regulus Black, and no one was told the name of my mother. I would be introduced as the Black Heir only – it was well known that Sirius had no children, and so it would not be unexpected for a more distant relative to have been named Heir according to the Codex.

"It's still miserably unfair."

I just smiled at my friend and we all left for Diagon Alley.

* * *

Wandering the halls of the manor at night had been a habit of mine for many years. It always began with a dream, a woman screaming and a flash of green light, that left me with a consuming emptiness that I could not explain. I never got back to sleep right away, so I would don my robe and slippers and enjoy the peace and quiet that fell over the place while the household slept. Sometimes I made my way to the library – which was my favorite room in the entire Manor – where I could curl up with a book in front of a low fire until I fell asleep.

The night preceding my birthday found me retracing my all too familiar path through the Manor's halls. There was a particular book on Transfiguration theory that I had in mind, and I knew that eventually, I would make my way onto my favorite chaise in the library.

I came to the railing of the grand staircase and paused when I saw Narcissa and Lucius standing in the foyer two floors below. There was a figure standing before them, cloaked. There seemed to be a brief conversation, and then Lucius gestured toward the doors to his study. The cloaked person led the way and the two of them disappeared from view. A pair of house elves appeared at Narcissa's side. She gestured at a three large trunks piled by the front door. The elves gathered them up quickly and disappeared, no doubt heading for the guest quarters on the second floor.

I wondered briefly if I should continue my way down to the library, which was across the hall from Lucius's study, or just go back to bed. Uncertain, I remained where I was. Narcissa turned then and saw me standing at the rail. We locked eyes for a moment, and then she pressed her finger to her lips in an unmistakable motion. Just as suddenly, she looked away and followed in the direction that her husband and the stranger had just taken. I heard the door to the study closing, but did not hear it shut completely. Curious now more than anything, I made my way softly down the stair. Once at ground level, it was easy to hear the voices coming from the study. With a flick of my hand, I opened the library door silently and positioned myself behind it, lying on the floor so that I could listen through the crack between the door and the carpet. Thanking fortune that the house was silent to the point of morbidity at this hour, I cast a quick charm on my ears to enhance the sound and settled comfortably against the floor.

"…need to know the source, Lucius!" My pulse jumped as I recognized the voice of the Dark Lord himself.

"It takes time, my Lord, you know that."

"Time is the one commodity that we lack! _Every_ day, my life's work is undermined on the front page of the Prophet! I am in the middle of negotiating the end of a civil war in Belgium – I _cannot_ have our allies doubting my objectives."

"We have our men in place, my Lord. Everything is going according to plan. It is just a matter of time –"

"According to plan? Is that what you call it?" the Dark Lord spat venomously. "Exactly what part of the plan, Lucius, involves Dementors in a feeding frenzy in the middle of Muggle London? Hmm? How _exactly_ does that inspire confidence? How does that convince our potential partners that we will successfully isolate the magical population? Clearly, I am lacking the appropriate perspective, because as far as I can tell, it is incidences exactly like this which set our progress back ten bloody years!"

"My Lord," Narcissa's voice now, calmer than the other two. "You are very close to taking the Ministry. You cannot allow yourself to be distracted. You must trust us to determine the identity of the imposter, and to take the appropriate measures."

"And how am I to trust anyone anymore?" the Dark Lord asked, a sudden weariness in his voice.

"There are those of us who never lost sight of the beginning, who followed you to the brink of madness and back, because we _believed_," Narcissa replied, her voice rich with emotion. "Once the Belgian royal family is restored, it will be imperative that your presence in Britain is felt. Your supporters exist, but they require some reassurance that the goals have not changed, and that our first real victory is imminent."

There was a sigh.

"You are, of course, correct, Narcissa." The room fell silent for a moment. "Most of the inner circle will be here tomorrow?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied.

"Very well. Arrange a meeting for tomorrow evening, after the festivities are over. I will discuss the appropriate course of action then."

"It will be done, my Lord."

"Feel free to retire – I think I will sit here a while. I can summon an elf to show me to my room."

"Yes, my Lord," the Malfoys said in unison. I heard the rustle of fabric, then the creak of the door, and footsteps in the hallway. Silence some moments after let me know that they were climbing the staircase. I sat up, ending the _Amplificato_, my mind racing. Bella rarely, if ever covered modern wizard history with me. I knew that the Dark Lord was waging a campaign to restore the rights of Dark Families throughout Europe, and that Britain was considered a predominantly Light country. I also knew that he was working to protect our culture by isolating it from Muggle influences. Other than that, I had no clue what they were talking about.

Why on earth would Dementors be in Muggle London? What exactly was the Dark Lord planning to do to the Ministry of Magic? And what did he have to do with a civil war in Belgium? And what was the inner circle? And what… What was that sound?

I realized that I was hearing footfall in the hallway, and it seemed to be coming toward me. My heart jumped into my throat. Was the Dark Lord about to walk into the room? He would catch me eavesdropping… Sweet Merlin.

Scrambling, I got to my feet and looked about for a place to hide. There weren't a lot options… Desperate, I ran to the first shelter I saw – the large wing-backed chairs that faced the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. I pulled my legs and the skirts of my nightgown up out of sight, and held my breath.

The door knob turned almost silently, and I heard the door brush across the carpet as it opened.

A scent filled the air – earthy, like a warm lawn on a summer's night – and I felt my pulse begin to slow from the frantic beating it had been. It was the strangest dichotomy to be extremely relaxed and nervous at the same time.

I felt the weight of his magic in the air, as strong as it had been the night of my seventh birthday.

And suddenly, he was right behind me. I could hear soft breathing just above my head, though he was totally silent otherwise. Through the nerves, the curious part of me wondered if he used magic to move that way…

"_This is a late hour for a young lady, isn't it?"_

"_I…I couldn't sleep,"_ I whispered back. The warm rich scent that I had begun to associate with the Dark Lord fell upon me. I also realized that, for the first time that I could recall, the Dark Lord was not masking his power. And he was _powerful_…

His magic was like running water – fluid and unyielding at the same time. It ebbed and flowed through the air, as though exploring the room, sensing, tasting, before drawing back to his body. The Dark Lord was a fountainhead of magic, and it moved from him, through him, and away from him, simultaneously, a constant swirl of energy…

He was the most powerful wizard that I had ever felt, and I knew then why he was a Lord among us. Magic that wonderfully tangible made all those near it seem pale and weak; it was the kind of raw energy that drew lesser beings to it like moths to the flam. I felt the pull of his aura, demanding my attention, it seemed, promising both life and terrible destruction, like a river – a raging force of nature…

I felt a tendril of his magic lick over my aura and I gasped at the sensation. My own power came alive at the contact; in my mind, I had the image of a great cat, stretching luxuriously, rubbing its fur along a velvet carpet, purring with pleasure… only, it wasn't carpet – it was the Dark Lord's magic. My own power reached out, welcoming, coaxing, wrapping itself in that delicious energy like a warm, soft blanket. My magical core, deep in the center of my body, grew hot, and I could feel my skin flushing with it. A warm weight began building in my body, in low places that I had never known I had. I felt a giddy joy that I had only ever experienced once before – the first time that I had set foot in Diagon Alley, and had been surrounded by magic for the first time.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and my breathing came is quick, short gasps, my breast rising and falling as rapidly as the heartbeat that pounded in my throat...

And then, it was gone. Just… gone. A quiet sound came from my lips, half protest, half despair. I opened my eyes and saw the Dark Lord kneeling before me. He held both of my hands tightly in his own, almost painfully.

"_Are you alright?"_

I nodded, unsure of my voice just at that moment. My pulse was slowing, my breath calmer. My body was aching, as if I had been running for hours. I was exhausted.

The Dark Lord continued to stare into my face, his gaze heavy.

"_I am well," _I whispered, finally. _"What… what just happened?"_

The Dark Lord released my hands and rose, in on fluid movement, and turned to face the empty fireplace. He stared into the naked hearth for some moments before speaking.

"_It has been a very long time since I have done… that," _he said quietly, and I thought there was some emotion in his voice, but could not place it. _"And even then, the experience was… far less… pleasant."_

"_My Lord?"_

"_We…" _He sighed and seemed to struggle with the words. _"Only very strong wizards can mix auras. It is generally used as a way to pull power from an enemy. To… combine magic is…it's said to be impossible."_

I stared at his back, shocked. My academic mind was racing – it had been done only once in history, when the four founders of Hogwarts had combined their magic to create the school, and it had taken seven years for them to do it… Yet, we had combined power… I had combined power with the Dark Lord… Sweet Merlin…

"_You have surprised me this night." _The Dark Lord glanced at me from over his shoulder. _"I… You should get some rest." _

He fell silent then. I rose, completely unsure what to do. I simply stared at his figure a moment, and then turned quietly and made my way to my room. I would be lying if I didn't say that I half wished he had ordered me to stay.

* * *

The Dark Lord sat at the head table with the hosts. The birthday party was in full swing before him, the premieres of wizarding society mingling or dancing. This was an event for his supporters only, and therefore one of the few chances that he had to be out undisguised.

Currently, his focus was on a young woman in an emerald green gown. She was directly across from him, standing with a small group of witches and wizards her age, her face lit with amusement. He had not been able to take his eyes off of her. The memory of the night before was etched into his mind, and it distracted him. He desired her, in a way that he had never desired a woman before. It was more than just sexual attraction, though that was not insignificant – he craved to feel that power again, which had formed from the joining his magic with hers. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he knew that he would never experience that much magical energy without her. Of course, part of him wondered how much more intense the connection would be if he were touching her bare flesh…

"My Lord?"

He turned to Narcissa. She was looking at him inquisitively, an eyebrow arched ever so slightly. He realized then that she must have been speaking to him, and that he had paid her absolutely no heed. He was distracted – _this will not do,_ he thought.

"Forgive me, Lady Malfoy. I was… in my own thoughts." He saw her eyes flick to the dance floor, to her young ward; her insight was one of the things that he valued most about Narcissa, yet sometimes her ability to read him was maddening.

"The guests you requested are in the library, whenever you are ready, my Lord," she said smoothly. He nodded in return, and rose. Those nearest the table acknowledged him as he passed out of the banquet hall, Narcissa following in his wake, exchanging pleasantries with her guests.

Lucius was in the library, waiting with the others. When the Dark Lord entered the room, conversation ceased and all rose to their feet. The Lady Malfoy went to join her husband by the fireplace. Her sister, Bellatrix, stood near her, flanked on either side by the Lestrange brothers. Cassandra Zabini stood next to her current lover, Antonin Dolohov, and the Lord and Lady Rosier. Severus, of course, would be along later to provide his reports.

_So few_, the Dark Lord thought. _Could there really only be ten people in the world that he could trust?_

"First, allow me to congratulate our hosts on a wonderful celebration," he said, taking his seat in a wingbacked chair that faced his Inner Circle. Lucius nodded in turn, as the room raised their glasses in toast.

"We are honored, my Lord, that you could join us for this small party," Narcissa said gracefully, smiling at them all.

"Let us conduct our business, then, so that we can all continue to enjoy your hospitality." He took a moment and looked each one of them in the eye. There was no falsehood that he could sense, no overwhelming guilt or ill feeling… Still, many of the witches and wizards in this room were powerful Occlumens… _No, he would not second guess this. He needed their help…_

"As you all know, there has been much published in the Prophet about myself and our cause. What you may not know is that the activities that have so sensationalized the wizarding world of late, have not been my doing or at my command."

It was plain on their faces that there had been doubt…

"There is… I fear, an imposter. A false Dark Lord acting in my name. I do not yet know the motivation for this – whether they seek to depose me, or are attempting to drive my followers from me…"

"What can we do, my Lord?"

"We must weed the traitor from our midst, Dolohov, and destroy them." Eyes turned to the door of the library, which had just opened and shut silently. Severus Snape stood in his heavy travelling cloak. The Dark Lord nodded to him in acknowledgement.

"Whatever the truth, we must repair this. We are meeting the premiere Dark families of Europe on the Winter Solstice – you have five months. We will not win a war without allies, and those allies will forsake us if they believe that we are driven by madness. Use whatever tools at your disposal. Be discrete." The Dark Lord's voice dropped dangerously in volume, so that the last few words came out in punctuated whisper. "Bring. Me. the. Imposter."

* * *

It was nearly three in the morning when all of the guests finally left. I found myself sitting outside in the rose garden. I loved it there, because it reminded me so much of the Manor where I grew up. The warm summer air was sweetly perfumed by the blossoms growing around me.

I was still floating. I was finally seventeen. I was finally an adult! I toyed with the delicate silver ring on my right hand… the Heir Ring of the House Black, given to me ten years before, the first night that I learned who I really was…

Unable to help myself, I spun around, laughter bubbling out of my lips.

"_You have a beautiful laugh_."

I froze in place, arm extended, skirts still swirling about me. There was the Dark Lord, leaning against the stone archway that led into the garden. He was still in his dress robes from the party. I couldn't help but just stare at him, as I had been staring at him all night. Not once had he spoken to me all night. He had sat at the head of the table, between Narcissa and Lucius, and every so often, those blue eyes turned to me with an intensity that was frightening. And how I had wished that he would descend from that platform and take my hand in a dance…

Heat flushed through my body.

"_Thank you, my Lord."_

"_Did you enjoy yourself this evening?"_ He moved into the garden, standing just a few feet from me. In the moonlight, I could see him clearly… there was… a heaviness lining his eyes and mouth. I had a fleeting desire to kiss the worry from his face…

"_Yes, my Lord,"_ I whispered. _"Did you?"_

"_I'm afraid that there was one thing that I missed out on."_ He took a step towards me.

"_Oh?"_

"_A dance. With the birthday girl."_ He held out a hand. I couldn't help but reach out my own to meet him, in a daze, unsure whether this was actually happening… He pulled me towards him, his other arm reaching around my waist, fingers pressing ever so slightly into my corset… I met his gaze, and we moved for a while, silently swaying in the garden…

Quietly, like a breath of air against my skin, the magic began uncoiling. It was much more subtle than what had happened the night before, much more… intimate. I could feel the heat of him wrapping around my skin, and my own magic reached out of my core, greeting his like an old friend.

"_I am going to ask you a question, and I would like you to answer me truthfully."_

"_Of course, my Lord."_ He studied me for a moment.

"_Do you feel the… attraction between us?"_

I looked down, feeling my cheeks flush, embarrassed. I simply nodded, unable to voice the absurd pleasure I felt from the Dark Lord saying that he was attracted to me.

"_And do you want to learn what we can do with _this_?"_ he asked, as a flair of magic lit our skin with golden light. I lifted my eyes back to his, and nodded again. The power around us was incredibly seductive in its own right, and for the first time in my life, I recognized sexual desire burning in the deepest part of me.

In less than a second, he closed the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine, pulling my body flush with his. I could feel then that his own body was reacting, and I grew bold – I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back forcefully. It was not a delicate thing, as described in romances – it was harsh and commanding, and I could feel my teeth bruising my own lip. An explosion of power poured from our bodies, and for a moment we were bathed in light…

* * *

_That first kiss was the beginning. He left the next morning, before I could say goodbye. But the letters came every day thereafter… And I fell in love with the Dark Lord._


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks to all of those who have stuck with me these long years. Updates are slow coming but they do come, I promise. This chapter is dedicated to all of you who continue to read and review. Your feedback is much appreciated.**

* * *

I felt another wave of nausea hit me and promptly emptied my stomach completely. I sat back on the cool tile floor, breathing heavily for a moment, trying to recover. I was going to have to find a way to get some message to the outside… I needed my potions, to stave off the morning sickness, and the nutrient potions for the baby.

The baby.

I clutched my abdomen and felt tears prick my eyes. I took another deep breath and stood. The mirror above the sink showed my face; my skin was a bit pale, not surprising considering that I'd been vomiting for the past hour.

"You are going to get out of here," I promised myself, looking into my own emerald eyes, cold and determined. "You will find a way. You must. Tom would be disappointed if you continue to sit here and do nothing."

I splashed some cool water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair. When I was presentable, I walked out of the bathroom and into the small bed chamber that I had been in for the past two weeks. I wasn't allowed outside of it, and my only visitors were Dumbledore and a red-haired woman named Molly. My uncle had not returned, and I began to despair that he would help me escape. Yet, it was clear that he had not betrayed my identity…

Dumbledore sat with me for an hour each day, questioning me about my knowledge of the war, my life before I had been found, and what I knew of my parents. I suspected that he knew I was blocking him from my thoughts, and tried over and over again to penetrate deeper into my mind. I had been successful thusfar, but who knew how long I would be able to maintain the pretense of total ignorance? My mental shields were firmly in place, but that might be keeping Tom from contacting me…

There was a swift knock on the door before Molly entered the room carrying a breakfast tray.

"Good morning, Harri, dear," she said cheerfully. "How are you today?"

"My stomach is still upset," I replied, taking care to look as pathetic as possible. To my satisfaction, she reacted just as I thought she would, coming over and putting a hand to my forehead.

"You are warm, dear," she said kindly. "You just drink your tea, and I'll see about getting you something."

"Is there any chance I could get out of this room? Just for a bit," I added hastily, noting her worried expression. "It's stiflingly warm in here, and I could use some fresh air." I could see her mulling it over, her brow creased in apprehension.

"Well… Albus said it was safer for you here."

"Oh," I said, looking down. I began to blink rapidly, causing tears to well up in my eyes. "I understand, Molly. I'm just… I'm just lonely cooped up here."

"You poor dear!" she exclaimed, exuding maternal affection. She gave me a quick hug and said, "I'll see what I can do. I don't see why you couldn't move about the house. This is the safest place in England, after all."

I made sure that my eyes were wide and sincere, and said, "Would you, Molly? That would be so kind."

"Think nothing of it, dear. I'll be back in a tick."

I smiled the moment the door clicked shut behind her. Finally, some progress… I settled back into the armchair and poured myself a cup of tea and waited.

* * *

"Harri, dear? I've brought someone to see to your fever," announced Molly from the landing outside my door. She poked her head in and I smiled at her. She really was a kind woman, and part of me felt guilty at manipulating her.

I felt all breath leave my body as I saw Severus Snape enter the room behind her. He stilled, and it was a good thing that Molly was chattering out an introduction instead of watching him, because the look on his face was full of shocked recognition.

"Thank you, Molly," he said, recovering himself and cutting her off midsentence. She bristled slightly and turned to me.

"Is there anything else you need, dear?"

"No, thank you," I replied, unable to take my eyes from the dark haired wizard.

"I believe you brought me here to examine the girl, Molly," Snape said in a curt tone, "Which does not, in any way, require your presence. I'm sure one of your many offspring is in need of you."

"Be polite, Severus," she snapped back. "Don't frighten the poor girl with your bullying." He narrowed his eyes at her as she left. It took him just a few strides to cross the room. He knelt down and took one of my hands in his, looking up into my face searchingly.

"My Lady, how is it that you are here? I was under the impression that I was coming to tend to the long lost Potter brat – "

"And I am she, Severus."

"That is impossible," he said, voice low with some emotion that I couldn't quite place. But then, few people had ever claimed to be able to read Severus Snape's moods. I knew that Tom wouldn't like it, but I saw no other option than to reveal the truth to this man. He was one of my husband's most trusted Death Eaters, and spy. This was my way out.

"I am going to entrust you with information, Severus. But know that the cost of breaking this trust will be your life. Do you understand?"

"Of course, my Lady." I brushed my mind against his, and felt his barriers go down freely – a sign that he was willingly allowing me access to his thoughts. He was loyal ultimately to himself, but I could sense the truth in his words.

"My mother was Lily Potter," I said finally. His eyes widened just a fraction, a crack in his normally flawless composure. "And my father was Regulus Black."

He jolted to his feet in surprise.

"So, you're – "

"Harriet Potter, yes. But my true name is Persephone Black."

"Does… does the Dark Lord know?"

"Of course," I replied, confused. "Why wouldn't he?"

"There was a prophecy, my Lady," Severus said, those dark eyes boring into me with a sharp intensity. "A prophecy naming Harriet Potter as the one who would defeat the Dark Lord."

"That is ridiculous," I spat, anger beginning to rise in me. "How dare you say that to me?"

"It is the truth, my Lady. That is why Dumbledore has you holed up in this derelict – he believes that you will be the ultimate weapon against the Dark. The entire wizarding world believes it."

I rose from the chair, anger transforming into rage. "That bastard," I hissed out, "wants me to be his puppet against my own husband! I'm going to kill him!"

I lunged towards the door, only to find myself in the surprisingly strong grasp of Severus. Futilely, I pushed against his chest, trying to get away, trying to get out of that room… I sank to my knees, feeling the tears begin to fall.

"I'll never get out of here, will I, Severus?" I whispered. "He'll never let me go if that's what he believes."

"The Dark Lord will level the Ministry of Magic itself if it means your safe return," he replied, voice surprisingly soft. I looked up at him, pouring all of my fear and desperation into my eyes so that he could see the truth of it.

"I'm pregnant, Severus. Tom… the Dark Lord… Severus, he doesn't even know." I watched his features change, become hard and unreadable.

"I will return you to him," he said with the brevity of a vow. "And I will see to your medical needs until I can." I nodded, wiping the tears from my cheeks. He stood and helped me to my feet.

"The Dark Lord will hear of this, my Lady. I will deliver the message personally. And I will send potions for you in the morning, with instructions."

"I shall owe you a debt, Severus. Your loyalty will not be forgotten."

He bowed to me and left, and for the first time, I began to feel hope.

* * *

Snape hurried down the stairs to the first floor landing. Dumbledore had wanted to meet with him that afternoon, but he had to get to the Dark Lord immediately. He would come up with some excuse later to make the old man happy.

_Lily's daughter is alive._

The thought filled him with emotions that he had long believed were no longer possible. Finally, after nearly twenty years, he had a chance at redemption. It was his fault that the Dark Lord had pursued the Potters in the first place. And all Snape had hoped at the time was that Potter would be killed and he would have a chance to bring Lily back over to their side... His own selfish wish to impress the Dark Lord, to fulfill a child's need for revenge, had lead to the death of one he saw as a sister, and of her innocent child.

Or so he had thought. This time, this time he had another chance, to save Lily's daughter, to keep another child from losing its parents to this war.

They had only a few short weeks to get Persephone out of Dumbledore's clutches. After that, the signs of her pregnancy would become noticeable, and it would be impossible to maintain the pretense that she had been living sequestered from the world. If Dumbledore had any inkling that he had not just his prophesied Girl-Who-Lived, but the wife and unborn child of the Dark Lord in his hands… The Lord of the Light was, at his core, a good man, and for years had fought for his vision of peace… but he would not hesitate to sacrifice others if it would mean bringing the Dark Lord to heel.

And Snape was going to do all he could to keep that knowledge secret.

Pressing his wand to the Dark Mark, Snape apparated to the Dark Lord.

The new headquarters was in one of the older homes owned by Cassandra Zabini. The manor was set on the shores of Bassenthwaite Lake, well isolated from any muggle populations, and large enough to support the permanent members of the Dark Lord's household. He appeared just outside the front gate, which opened at a touch of his wand, keyed to recognize bearers of the Dark Mark. Quickly, he hurried up the gravel lane to the house.

It was near lunch, so there shouldn't be too many in the house. Indeed, when he entered the front hall, there was only a house elf to greet him.

"Take me to the Dark Lord, immediately," he barked out, interrupting the creature as it greeted him.

"Of course, Master Snape," the elf replied, leading Snape through the west wing of the house, through several halls to a conservatory. The Dark Lord sat at a table with Ladies Malfoy and Zabini, clearly in the mid-luncheon. It was Narcissa who saw him first.

"Severus?" The other two turned to him, and Snape could see the Dark Lord frown in confusion.

"Forgive me, my Lord for the interruption." Snape hesitated, glancing at the ladies. "I need to speak with you privately, my Lord," he said at last in a low voice. The Dark Lord looked at him curiously, but nodded his head. With a wave of his hand, the witches rose and excused themselves from the table. Snape could sense the heavy gaze that Narcissa was giving him, but he was sure the Dark Lord wouldn't want an audience.

"What is it?"

"I have seen your wife, my Lord."

The Dark Lord tensed visibly. "Where?"

"Dumbledore has her, my Lord. With the Order."

"Damn it!" his Lord exclaimed, jumping to his feet. A pulse of magic flooded the room momentarily, causing the lunch table to be thrown some ten feet into the air, landing on the other side of the conservatory. Porcelain and glass shattered as they hit the floor. The Dark Lord was pacing, his body shaking with unmistakable rage.

"Is she…" he hesitated, and for the first time that Snape could remember, the Dark Lord had true sorrow in his eyes. "Is she well?"

"She is strong, my Lord. The Order believes that she is Harriet Potter, and she has Dumbledore completely fooled. It will offer her protection, for now." The Dark Lord nodded and resumed pacing.

"My Lord? What of the prophecy?" Snape knew that he was in very dangerous territory, but he had to know…

"That prophecy," the Dark Lord spat in disgust, "was a fraud, perpetrated by Lily Potter."

Of all of the things that Snape had expected, _that_ had never crossed his mind. Oh, sweet Merlin – the prophecy was a fake? Lily had died for _nothing_?! But… why? Why would she paint a target on her own child?

"My Lord… I am afraid that I don't understand. Why -?"

"Why would Lily Potter fabricate a prophecy about her daughter?" the Dark Lord finished for him, a sardonic look on his face. "Lady Malfoy has spent the past eighteen years trying to answer that very question. If you could provide any insight into the matter, Severus, I'm sure she would be delighted to hear it."

Snape frowned. There had to have been a reason… perhaps a diversion? But to hide what? _What were you hiding Lily?_

"We will need to devise a way to retrieve my wife, Severus. It must be done cautiously. I need you to maintain Dumbledore's trust, especially with the election in just five months. Thicknesse is favored to win, which would finally give us control of the Ministry… I will select some others that I trust to assist you… It may take a few weeks to extract her without suspicion… I have no doubt that Persephone will be able to handle the Order herself for another few weeks. Dumbledore will keep her safe so long as he continues to believe that she is the Girl-Who-Lived. But that will make it even more difficult to get outside of the antiapparition barrier around their headquarters – "

"We may not have that much time, my Lord," Snape interjected quietly, dreading the reaction. "There is one more thing that you must know." The other wizard paused in his movement, his back to Snape.

"Yes?" he hissed out, in a tone that brought lesser wizards to their knees in fear.

"She is with child, my Lord." The Dark Lord turned to face him, eyes wide.

"You are certain?"

"She… she told me herself, my Lord."

Snape felt the magic just in time to throw up a shield charm around them both. All around them, the glass walls of the conservatory were blown apart, showering shards down upon them in a blast that shook the manor itself. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Narcissa Malfoy appear in the doorway, eyes wide in shock.

The Dark Lord's gaze bore into him, glowing red with fury.

"Bring me my wife, Severus. I don't care how. Next time that I lay eyes upon you, it had better be at her return. Do you understand me?"

Snape nodded slowly, knowing that his life now depended upon this mission. He turned and left the room. As he crossed the threshold, he grabbed Narcissa Malfoy and pulled her with him, away from that scene of destruction. She protested, but he didn't stop. He required her assistance, and right at that moment, the conservatory was not the safest place to be.

The wrath of the Dark Lord was going to be terrible, indeed.

* * *

Narcissa would have been proud, I thought. I didn't even flinch when Dumbledore entered the room. He was in magenta today – a color so bright that I would not have believed of its existence if it wasn't before me. Dear Merlin – were those Berty Bott's Beans dancing along the hem of the robes?

"Harriet, my dear! How are you today?"

"Well, Albus," I replied, falling into the now familiar script of our afternoon tea. "And yourself?"

"As well as one can hope for when you reach my age," he replied genially, accepting the cup I had poured for him. I might be a prisoner, but that was no excuse to forget my manners as a hostess.

"What would you like to ask me about today?"

"Oh, my dear girl, I thought that today you might like to do the asking yourself."

This was new, I thought suspiciously. Carefully, I thought about how I wanted this conversation to go.

"Is there any reason why I cannot see the rest of the house?" I asked as innocently as possible. "I grow awfully restless and lonely here in this room. I'm… I'm not used to being trapped inside."

"Ah. Molly mentioned as much to me the other day," the older wizard said, appearing to mull it over.

"I just want to go home, Albus," I pleaded. Those cornflower blue eyes softened behind his spectacles.

"You are here for your own safety, my dear. You would be in terrible danger if our enemies learned of your survival."

"But what enemies? I have lived my entire life with house elves – I hadn't met any other wizards until I came here. How can I have made enemies?"

"The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are the enemies of the free wizarding world, my dear," Dumbledore said in a tone one would use with a child. "And he has every reason to want to harm you."

"I don't understand." I saw Dumbledore pause, and I knew what was coming next. I prepared myself to show the appropriate amount of surprise.

"There is a prophecy, child. A prophecy concerning yourself and the Dark Lord."

"Prophecy?" I asked incredulously.

"You are the Chosen One, Harriet. You are the one who will defeat the Dark Lord." He watched me process the information, assessing my response.

"You must be mistaken," I stammered, eyes wide. "I… I don't have anything to do with this war of yours."

"This war impacts all of us, Harriet."

"But I am no soldier! How am I to defeat the greatest Dark Lord of all time? With tea and scones?" I shot back, allowing some of my true anger into my voice.

"If you had been raised with your parents, we would have trained you for this, Harriet," Dumbledore said. There was the tiniest hint of remorse in his tone, though whether it was over the loss of my parents or the opportunity to mold me into his perfect tool, I could not say.

"Why is the Dark Lord your enemy? What threat is he really?" I pushed, genuinely curious about the answer.

"He seeks to rule us all, my dear, and to make half-bloods, like you and I, and muggleborns second class citizens or slaves. The world would become a dangerous place indeed if the only wizards in power practiced Dark magic."

"But Dark magic is not inherently bad. Does that not make you just as prejudiced?"

Those cornflower blue eyes studied me intently, and I fought not to look away. I knew that I was right, and that Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, was absolutely wrong. My husband was many things – fierce, passionate, and yes, even cruel – but he was fighting for his people. He was fighting for the Dark witches and wizards whose power was fading and might soon leave them altogether.

"That is a fair point," he said at last. "I used to have interesting conversations with your mother about the nature of magic."

"Have you read her work, then? Her theories about the balance of Light and Dark?"

"You have her research?"

"There was a copy in my library at home," I replied coolly. "She argued fervently that the eradication of Dark magic would throw the equilibrium so far from center that wizards might lose their powers for several generations. So if I am to destroy this Dark Lord, who will step in to help Dark wizards preserve their own magic? Who will keep Dark children from being neutered and forced to practice Light magic? Tell me that, Lord Dumbledore, and I will consider working with you!"

By the end of it, I was practically shouting at him. It was clear that the Lord of Light was not accustomed to being questioned in such a manner with any frequency. He was pressed defensively into his chair, with almost an expression of alarm on his face.

"I had no idea that you were so passionate about this issue," he said, finally, attempting to recover some composure.

"Well, clearly someone must be, Albus," I hissed, "Because you do not appear to have considered this side of your war."

"Do you truly believe that Dark witches and wizards are incapable of practicing other forms of magic? That there is no choice in how we practice our gifts?"

"If I could but have a chance to return to my home," I said, taking advantage of this sudden opportunity, "I could bring you my mother's work, and you would know the truth of what I say. Do not fight for freedom of one class when the cost is freedom of another."

"I cannot do that, Harriet. You must trust me when I say that your very life is in danger outside of these walls." Dumbledore reached out and took one of my hands. "You are our only hope against the Dark Lord. He fights for the freedom of no one."

I tore my hand away, fighting to control my anger. Standing, I moved toward the door and opened it, my back to the man in the armchair.

"I will not be your tool, Dumbledore, in a war that I do not believe in. And I cannot support a man who would hold an innocent woman against her will. Please leave."

I heard the rustle of fabric as he stood, his footsteps coming towards me and then past the threshold onto the landing.

"We will speak again, Harriet," he whispered, and the door closed after him. I went to my bed, exhausted, and finally let the tears fall.

* * *

I awoke some hours later in the darkness. There was the sound of two people arguing quietly outside of the bedroom door, and I fought through the thickness of slumber to focus on what was being said. The door opened and light flooded into the room, causing me to pull my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sudden brilliance.

"This is my house, and I cannot allow this to continue!" I recognized the voice of my uncle, and blinked to clear my vision and take in the three figures that had entered the room. Sirius was closest to me, his back turned, arguing with the other two on the landing. One was a man that I had seen before – Remus, the werewolf – and the other was a rather pretty girl about my age with bushy brown hair.

"But Dumbledore – "

"I don't give a witch's tit what he said, she is my goddaughter, and I will not let her stay a prisoner!"

"Sirius?" I questioned, drawing their attention. My uncle moved quickly to help me up, pulling me tightly into an embrace.

"I cannot get you out of the house, but I can get you out of this room," he whispered directly into my ear, just enough that I could hear it… Well, the werewolf must have caught it as well, but perhaps not… I nodded into his shoulder, and he released me, still gripping one arm. Together we moved out of the room and onto the landing, the others staring wide-eyed.

"Harriet, let's go on a tour of my home, shall we?" Sirius said in a loud, challenging voice, eyes locked in challenge.

"Perhaps," the bushy haired girl said, her confident tone at startling odds with the pale, terrified expression on her face, "she would like to get dressed, Sirius, and not parade about the house in her dressing gown."

"These are my only clothes," I said. The girl turned to me, blinking in confusion.

"Surely not."

"I was taken from my bed in the middle of the night," I snapped, "There wasn't time to pack anything."

The girl blinked at me once more, and then an air of calm determination settled over her.

"Then you shall come to my room first and we will find something suitable for you. Sirius, Remus, you may see her at dinner." And with that, she moved to the stair with an expectant look at me. I had no idea who this woman was, but if she was willing to support my move out of that room, I would at least cooperate. When one has no other choice, cooperation is always the easiest path. I gathered my skirts, and moved down the stair behind her with deliberate grace.

My room appeared to be on the fourth landing, though I had no idea if there were more floors below. The home was clearly a Dark one, though it spoke of old prestige that had long since lost the wealth required to maintain it. The papers on the wall were cracked and peeling in some places, and the paintings that hung from the walls were nearly blackened with dust. There were heavy brocade curtains at intervals along the halls, behind which were the whispers of live portraits, hidden away for Merlin knew what reason.

I could hear the sounds of laughter and conversation drifting up from the lower floor, and the unmistakable aroma of preparing food. I followed the girl down to the second floor landing, and then along a hallway lined with doors.

"This is me, then," she said, turning to a door on her left and pushing it open. "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

* * *

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Harry Potter, Horror, Romance