It was a dreary winter evening, the night the Dark Lord first beheld the child. And he had not been pleased. Quite the contrary, the sight of the huddled form clutching for its mother repulsed him, and he had been quick to illustrate his displeasure with a few well-aimed Cruciatus curses at several Death Eaters in the nearby vicinity. His most faithful was crestfallen, but hardly surprised at this display. She left the shuddering infant in the care of Narcissa as she sought out her Lord--the childlike eyes that pondered her skeptically were too searching for her liking, too knowing.
“My Lord,” the dark woman whispered huskily, falling to her knees at the sight of her master’s silhouette before the fire. “Forgive me.”
“Closer, Bellatrix,” a high, cold voice hissed. “You are excused, Lucius.” The shadowy figure from the armchair nodded to Lucius Malfoy, who swept from the room with what seemed to be a moderately pitying glance for Bellatrix Lestrange’s prone form.
She rose from her knees, hesitantly moving to stand before her Lord, her eyes downcast from the thin slits that searched her expression. He surveyed Bellatrix silently, tapering fingers stroking Nagini contemplatively, considering her.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, her lips trembling in anticipation of her Lord’s wrath.
“The child,” he interrupted smoothly, “is useless to me. Kill it.” Mouth dry, Bellatrix nodded, striding into the hall to retrieve the bundle from her sister, which was now burbling happily and tugging on Narcissa’s hair.
“Come,” Bellatrix demanded, lifting the child from her sister’s arms and tugging the wobbly form though the door on unsteady feet. The infant toddled behind Bellatrix’s skirts, clumsily stumbling towards the fire until, once more, she faced the serpentine countenance of Lord Voldemort. The child, however, turned a disinterested eye to the sneering visage, and focused instead on the scaly face of Nagini who regarded the newcomer with much more interest than the latter.
Seeing the Dark Lord’s face contort at the sight before him, Bellatrix drew her wand. Avada Kedavra, she thought, Goodbye, Lysandra. She closed her eyes momentarily, blocking the view of her daughter plunked happily upon the carpet at her feet, and began to murmur the Killing Curse, her wand hand jerking into the slashing motion that would end the child’s life.
An icy grip closed on her wrist, and Bella wrenched her eyes open to see the Dark Lord surveying the child on the floor with a mixture of confusion and interest.
Nagini had wound herself around Lysandra’s chubby form, and was nestling her scaly head against the child’s neck as sticky hands patted her length affectionately. That, however, was not what had made the Dark Lord’s eyes widen with sudden amusement. From out of the young girl’s mouth, a low hissing had issued, and the snake had returned in kind. The unlikely pair cuddled on the floor, murmuring and playfully snapping at one another until another low hiss caused them both to sit up and glance at the imposing figure before them.
Bellatrix watched as Lysandra’s features split into an impish grin and she responded to Lord Voldemort in their serpentine language. Her daughter giggled, rising unsteadily to her feet and tottering towards the man in the armchair, resting her fists upon his knees for balance. At this, Bellatrix flinched towards the girl, ready to swat her away, but Voldemort waved a hand at her, carrying on a low, rapid conversation with the child on his lap who seemed delighted with the attention.
“Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord interjected after what felt like ages of the silky hissing language. “Make the arrangements with the Malfoy’s. She is to live as a guest under their protection until she comes of age. You are to remain with me--yes, you have pleased your Lord, Bella.” Blinking back jubilant tears, Bellatrix nodded, waiting for the rest of his orders. “And bring me my wand.”
From the mantle, Bella lifted the bone-like sculpture that was the Dark Lord’s wand, holding it out to him reverently, aware that the honor of touching his wand was near the highest that he could give. He took it from her, but was now watching Lysandra with interest. He addressed her once more in Parseltongue. Cocking her head, the girl acquiesced to his unknown request, offering her arm to the tip of the wand outstretched towards her.
“Tell Lucius and Narcissa to shelter her with the respect owed to the daughter of Lord Voldemort.” A bright jet of light engulfed the child’s arm, and before the shrieks of pain began, the twisted figure of a snake protruding from a skull was writhing across her forearm.
Dark Lord's Bane by katjak
Story Notes:
JKR owns all characters.
Chapter Notes: I wrote this on a whim a few years ago, and I've never really had any reason to show it to anyone, but read/review if you like it. More to come.
Chapter Endnotes: Read/Review?
I'll preview what I've written of the next chapter and post.