Hello! I got kinda bored and stuck with my other writing and so I decided to write this! It's pretty much unedited and it started off not even being a story! So bear with me while I figure it all out. My first Harry Potter fic, here it goes!
Oh, and its kinda dark and squicky and stuff, so umm, yeah. HarryBellatrix
Bellatrix, her husband Rodolphus, brother-in-law Rabastan and Barty Crouch jnr went into shock when they realised their Dark Marks had paled, all but gone. Their Master had fallen, there was no other explanation. Days were wasted arguing, waiting and panicking before eventually they agreed and went to Godric's Hollow in disguise to discover what happened to their lord. Surely he had slain the Potters with ease? Unless Wormtail had betrayed them?
What they found was worse than they had ever imagined possible.
Their Master had failed to kill the Potter child, already hailed a saviour, The-Boy-Who-Lived, of all things. They searched and could find no trace of their lord's presence nor clue to his whereabouts and the two men decided that perhaps their time would be better spent on the other possible candidate for the Prophesy. About to apparate away, Bellatrix noticed some familiar gouges on the ground and begged off to investigate something else. The men and boy shrug and leave without her, she can handle herself better than they and they all know it, and loathe it.
Unmindful of the mourners and interlopers around her, Bellatrix moved to the motorbike tracks and began casting subtle scrying and tracking spells. She'd know those tracks anywhere, Sirius had always loved his bike. Rumours were already spreading about his murder of Peter Pettigrew and betrayal of the Potters, but she didn't believe a word of it. Sirius was no Death Eater, and he'd sooner gnaw his limbs of before betray his precious Blood-traitor family. And it was clear to see on his face that Peter was beyond cowardly. How anyone couldn't see what had really happened was beyond her, but then she had never accused the so-called 'Light Side' of intelligence.
Casting complete, Bellatrix summoned one of the many brooms leaning against a nearby wall and took to the sky, uncaring if anyone saw her theft in her polyjuice-altered form. The trail she followed was not as she expected, lacking the taste of her cousin, but then it made sense for him to give the babe to another for safe-keeping while he went and failed his attempt at revenge. Typical Gryffindor.
Eventually the polyjuice wore off and her natural form emerged. Thick, long black hair with slight curls blew past her beautifully elegant face to trail behind her, shining pure black in the sunlight as the wind swept over her. High cheeks flushed against the sting of chilled air and her perfect features seemed to glow, belying their usually noble pale colour. Long eyelashes framed beautiful glittering dark hazel eyes that saw more than most.
As the transformation finished, she belatedly remembered to cast her usual muggle-repelling charms and wards against notice; it wouldn't do for some random Auror to get the drop on her. The trail began descending right into the most muggle-looking area she'd ever seen. What on earth were they doing here? Then she snorted. It would be just like that muggle-loving fool to have his precious hideout right in the middle of such filth.
The trail came to an end before changing direction, straight to Hogwarts it seemed, and lacking the subtle extra presence of the babe. So they had switched couriers, they were not as incompetent as she had thought, then. Ten minutes was spent floating around in closer circles, checking for any traps or trails leading away. They wouldn't have apparated with a baby, surely! But as more time passed and no further trail appeared, it seemed her opponents were even more ruthless than she thought. She landed in an alleyway and held her stomach. Apparating with a child! Surely there could be no chance Dumbledore would allow such a thing.
Visions of having a baby of her own torn apart and reformed while still so unstable, so immature, had her nearly losing her last meal. How could they!? The risks... The damage! Nails bit through her robes and into her sides, arms across her cursed womb. To have such a precious gift and to throw it away, to hurt it like that...!
Lost to her daydreams of a child with black hair and pale skin looking up to her with sweet smiles and being able to smile back, and her rage that others would have this and dare damage it, Bellatrix forgot that her Master had fallen, that she was lost without him. Time passed unmarked as she vacillated between righteous fury and regretful longing. Then the piercing cry of a baby cut through to her and she was aware once more.
Her wand was up and ready and her other hand out for subtle wandless magic as she looked for the source of the noise. The chances of it being the babe in question were perhaps slim at best, she only had to look down the street to get some idea of how fast these muggles must breed, but something pulled her to check anyway.
Bellatrix moved forward with all the grace and stealth of some stalking predator, disillusionment and warding up fast as ever. Her hand and wand moving slightly in curious, small motions before her before she stopped dead in her tracks.
A Blood Ward. A Powerful Blood Ward. This was beyond anything she had expected. What the hell was going on? One of the most powerful Blood Magicks, protecting a muggle home? Why would anyone-
They wouldn't dare...
They couldn't possibly...
Harry Potter, the only one to have survived the killing curse, only one to defeat Lord Voldemort, already the Wizarding World's hailed saviour, was left to rot in the hands of muggle filth.
Hours flew by as she stood there in shock, hands moving without her conscious will as part of her absently tried to unravel the nature of the ward. The crying had stopped but she noticed it not. Eventually it seemed she blinked and the sun had long since set, with the conditions of the ward mostly laid out before her in traces lingering in the air.
Nothing with magic could pass the ward if they had any ill will towards the babe. Some subtler protections would be extended to him if he passed the boundaries, but that was it.
That was it. She or any other could pay some muggle to bring her the baby with faked goodwill, and once they were far away for long enough the protection would fall. Hell, she could probably walk through it herself once she satisfied the ward of her lack of ill intent.
It took her several careful attempts, all abandoned at the first sign of rejection lest the ward warn those that set it of intrusive attempts, but Bellatrix won through in the end with a binding Vow not to harm the boy in anyway until sunrise. She could feel the tentative acceptance of the ward as it peeled back to allow her entry, but it stayed bubbled around her like a second skin, ready to expel her as soon as the dawn broke.
The door opened silently and shut behind her with a flick of her wand and she stalked through the house, nose wrinkled in distaste. She found the master bedroom and sneered at the filthy couple. Thoughts of their blood painting the walls idly danced through her mind as she left to explore the rest of the house. She climbed the stairs and identified the only inhabited room with a silent spell. Toys and bright colours assaulted her as soon as she entered the room; the child was clearly spoiled beyond belief.
The cot held the fattest, ugliest baby she had ever beheld, but it was not the one she sought; there was no scar and everyone knew what the Potter boy looked like from the pictures in the Prophet. Where was Potter? She had cast the spell on every room and found only the three ugly muggles, yet she could taste young magic flowing, it had to be his.
"Homenum Revelio" she gave in and whispered aloud. Maybe she was losing her touch... But no. A fourth presence swooped over her and she quickly made her way out and down the stairs, following the sense of human presence.
Bellatrix stopped dead in her tracks at what she beheld.
There, under the staircase, was a smallish cupboard. Behind it danced the magic of a young wizard, no more than a baby, barely over a year old, sleeping. In. A. Fucking. Cupboard.
Again she lost track of time as her rage swept over her. She would keep them and everyone responsible in agony, the likes of which was yet unknown to time itself, for decades and decades before finally showing them exactly how much blood it took to paint a room, perhaps using their flesh for brushes.
Again it was the cry of a baby that brought her back to the world. Not loud and piercing like last time, but soft and somehow melancholy, as if the babe knew what had befell its parents and itself. Instantly she knew the other cry had been the fat muggle brat upstairs. A wave of her hand had the area warded against sound even as she put her wand away and opened the door.
It was dark and filthy and crawling with spiders and creeping things, and she recoiled from the idea that anyone could do this to a baby. Another wave had the small creatures vanished. On the ground atop some kind of cloth lay a pale babe, whimpering and calling softly for something he knew not. Dark black hair was not yet long enough to hide the cursed mark on his forehead, nor the brilliant green eyes that had already seen so much. The babe was small, far too small, and something inside her cried out as she felt and knew he hadn't been fed since he had been left here.
Bellatrix hesitated before the baby, completely unsure and lost. His skin and hair were exactly as she pictured her own child, even his face had something of her family's noble features. But his eyes were so green, never in all their line had a child had green eyes. Never in all existence had a child had such eyes. It made her freeze, made her stop, made her stare.
Then he stared back.
Their eyes met and the boy quieted, seeming to drink in her very soul. Eventually she blinked and broke the contact, whatever it was, for a moment, and the boy cried softly once more. That same sensation stabbed through her and suddenly she was kneeling and had the babe held in her arms. Soft sounds and meaningless words came from her lips as the small warmth from him soaked through her, washing over her like a slow tide in ever growing little waves.
The baby was hungry and it was perfectly natural that she feed him. Her clothing was not suited for feeding so she simply cut it away from her chest with a careless flicker of magic. It never crossed her mind that she might not be able to feed him, to produce milk, and it never crossed his mind that there might not be food there.
She watched his beautiful little face as she held him with both hands and guided his small little mouth to her nipple, and swooned as he latched on. Power grew and raced through her veins even as milk and magic flowed from her now-full breast. It was exhilarating and exhausting at once.
She could feel him drawing magic from her very essence, from the core of her power, and yet she felt more swelling up somehow to replace it. The sensation of his lips suckling from her breast was beyond description, and yet paled in comparison to the raw energy flooding every part of her, somehow pulled from her core. It travelled through her to return but divert to her breast where it filled the baby still drinking away, yet instead of draining it was constantly being refilled and leaving her to glory in the unbelievable power shifting through her.
The flow of milk and power seemed to suddenly slow to a stop before either she or the baby was finished, and she almost wept before the dull ache in her other breast announced itself. She carefully moved the precious babe in her arms and guided his eager mouth to her other nipple, and a low sound escaped her as the flow of magic resumed.
Bellatrix had no idea how this was happening, or even what exactly was happening, but she was addicted even before it had fully started. Wave upon wave of power and pleasure rushed from and through her even as she felt the growing presence of the babe's magic. He was feeding off her very magic and yet somehow replenishing it, growing it only to drink his fill and regrow it again. The world had shifted in that first moment, nothing was more precious than this baby, and nothing more pleasurable or powerful as feeding him.
Slowly but surely the flow decreased and she felt empty and full at the same time. She wanted the feeling to continue, and yet she felt complete, at ease somehow. The babe had fallen asleep in her arms with his little hand still held against her breast, and she smiled softly down at him.
"You are the most beautiful, the most precious babe in the world, and I will keep you forever."
She bent and kissed his forehead, not even noticing his scare, before sighing quietly with content and absolute satisfaction. Nothing else mattered except keeping this baby. Keeping him safe and fed and happy, and just keeping him.
A wave of her hand repaired her dress and removed the ward against sound. She frowned and then wandlessly transfigured the dirty rags covering the babe into soft, warm black fabric. Later she would realise with shock the ease of this transfiguration without her wand, but for now it barely registered. She stood as high as the tiny cupboard allowed her and carried the sleeping baby out, leaving the dirty blanket behind.
What to do now? If she simply left with him it would no doubt alert Dumbledore and who knew how many others. Maybe...
A smirk crossed her face, then fell into a frown. She would have to cause the babe some slight pain for this to work, but it would not harm him and would allow them to live happily together for years to come. Even the ward around her seemed to agree as it pulled back to fade into passive waiting, recognising that she meant its charge no harm. That decided her.
Bellatrix went upstairs once more, moving with even more grace and care this time, and entered the overly bright room of the muggle pig. It didn't seem right to place her new favourite being next to such filth even for a moment, but it had to be done. She gestured and her favourite fell deeper into slumber where no pain could be felt, and then she vanished the fat pig's clothing. A small silver knife made the quickest of slices over the beautiful babe's foot, healing it just as quickly behind it and gathering barely three drops of blood on its edge. One drop was placed on the fat one's forehead, one above its heart, and the last over its lips.
Muttered words and intricate gestures over the pig caused it to slowly morph into the image of his better, even leaving a trace of her beloved's magic. Such was the power of blood magic. Even as quick and unprepared as this ritual had been, it still had great power and would fool many for a long time. Though it failed to mimic the curse-scar...
She had too much fun fixing this oversight.
Bellatrix removed the charmed sleep from her beloved and carried him down the stairs for the last time and then into the disgusting excuses for humans' room. Memory charms were tricky things if you wanted to do them right, even more so to hide them, but she had the entire spectrum of magic to call upon and it became simple.
Their son had died of some illness prior to receiving Harry Potter, they don't talk about it, in fact they would decide to go through the house and remove all evidence of their son and hide it somewhere before forgetting about it.
A wicked smile crossed her face.
They resented being reminded of their loss, and would take it out on the new boy and each other with ever growing hatred. Eventually, a decade or so later when the blood magic wore off, they would remember that their son wasn't dead, realise what they had done, before slicing themselves apart and setting the house on fire around them while clinging to their son, holding him down as they bled to death wailing until they all burned alive.
Rather satisfied, if still annoyed that she couldn't inflict their pain herself, Bellatrix replaced her wand and left the house carrying her precious cargo. The true beauty of her little blood trickery lay not in the fact that it left them thinking her beloved still there with them physically, but in the way it tied in with the blood wards as well. The old bastard Dumbledore and anyone else monitoring the more subtle magicks of the area would detect nothing amiss.
Just before she carried the babe across the blood ward, Bellatrix stilled. Where to go now? She obviously couldn't take the Wizarding world's saviour near any of her fellow Death Eaters; they would try to kill him and she wouldn't allow that, or they would listen and then want him for themselves, and she wouldn't allow that at all. Her Harry was too special.
So she calculated her options even as she layered protection over protection upon her still sleeping charge. She would have to take him home first, to Lestrange Manor to collect some of her more useful items. If she was lucky the men wouldn't have returned yet. Strange how they had gone from annoying yet useful allies to mere hindrances and possible threats. Never mind.
Babe now secure against any harm, Bellatrix wrapped him against her chest with summoned cloth before obscuring the faint traces of her magic that lingered in the area. Even the almighty Dumbledore would have difficulty discovering much less unraveling the magics done here.
Finally crossing the blood ward was somehow disappointing. She had expected it to react somehow, at least give a twinge to show it realised its true charge had left its protection, but nothing happened. A silent Up command had her borrowed broom float towards her and then they were off. Twisting this way and that way allowed her to reach around and muffle her trail with much more caution than usual, one hand needlessly curled around the babe even though he was most definitely secure there.
An hour passed, then two, before she was ready to consider using her portkey. Unlike apparition, travel by portkey was perfectly safe thanks to the use of an outside physical object and the more precise nature of the magic. This was no will-driven harnessed accident, this was planned and controlled and safe to use with a baby.
Somehow she had forgotten that the bastards hadn't actually apparated with her precious Harry.
Higher and higher she flew, letting the broom take them as high as it could and then forcing her magic through it to make it fly higher still. Then with a whisper and a touch of her wand, she finished the incomplete portkey inside the kitchen knife she kept for... fun, and they were gone.
Miles upon miles away, they appeared with a flash in a small forest clearing. The stolen broom was vanished with a very useful dark variation of the standard spell that allowed larger, less common stuffs to be removed from existence, and Bellatrix cautiously made her way out of the forest.
A large manor seemed to suddenly appear as if grown from the earth just like the dark trees surrounding it, and the woman sighed in relief. Were the men, she refused to call the fools anything meaningful, already at the manor it would have been there and not just then appeared. Such was the power protecting the Lestrange manor; it only existed when those tied in to its bloodline, or those added by them, were nearby or willed it to. Much better than most silly wards, in her opinion.
Bellatrix quickly made her way through the grand entranceway without bothering to open the doors. Tied in as she was to the protections, the doors merely swirled into smoke before solidifying behind her. She was barely inside before she called out.
"Tinker!" With a small pop, the house elf appeared and bowed low, knowing his Mistress didn't care for idle words unless the mood struck her. Which was not often. So he remained bowed and silent as he waited for her commands. "Pack my things, all of them, and everything my husband and his brother own and bring them here ready for travel. And do the same for everything in the nursery. And everything else worth taking, I suppose."
Tinker's eyes bulged even larger at that but he bowed lower and popped away to follow her instructions. Could it be that his Mistress was with child? Another Lestrange to finally secure the line? But it was not his place to ask, so the small elf went about his work with magical efficiency. Such was the protection and warding around the bundled babe that even the unusual magic of elves could not detect him.
Meanwhile Bellatrix went through the manor shrinking and packing everything of worth to her. Some things were valuable, others useful or rare, and some few were simply rather sentimental. For some reason she had the feeling this would be the last time she graced the manor with her presence. It was... oddly satisfactory. She had never truly lived here, much less call it home. It was her husband's home and ever since the curse on her wedding day, it had been more like a bad dream than a place to live.
A vengeful former lover of Rodolphus' had gleefully taken her revenge even as they finalised their vows. He had realised exactly what the curse was and knew it would be impossible to dodge or block it with no wand in his hand. Rather than suffer it he had pulled his new wife in to shield himself. Any chance of her having children died that day, as had their fledgling romance. The bitch had died quickly, even enraged as she had been Bellatrix knew the curse had not been meant for her.
That night, what should have been her wedding night with all it entailed, a very young Bellatrix had to stun her husband to ward off his amorous advance. To her mind, he had forfeited his right to her body when he pulled her into the path of that curse. Where before she had dreamed of growing to care for him, now she loathed him and yet could do little about it. They were married and her womb was cursed, none would take her even if she were 'sadly' widowed. She would have to make do, as countless purebloods had done before her.
So she had delved into her husband's mind and used the knowledge gained there to place a powerful and complex ongoing memory charm upon him. Every time he grew lustful and sought her out, he would perceive her where she was not and end up ruining his sheets while she either ignored him or looked on and scoffed. The memories she had gained of his past conquests had overwhelmed her seventeen year old mind with disgust and curiosity, though she was not nearly curious enough to allow her 'dear' husband to actually touch her.
She had of course immediately cursed her husband's seed, though he didn't know it. It would not do for him to sire some bastard to carry on his line without her.
So she comforted herself and locked away her dreams of beautiful pale babies. No chance of adopting, not into a proper pureblood line such as theirs. One day she and her husband would perform a dark ritual to create life from their blood, but the permanent cost of power was so great that even she had admitted it was best to wait until they were stronger and the war was over.
Dark rituals that required sex, blessings and empowerment ceremonies that she had intended to do with her husband were first abandoned, then later adapted. She would not lay with another man while she was still married, their contract was no laughing matter and she was rather soured towards men in general, but it had said nothing of women.
So she had altered the rituals and proceeded with witches not likely to be missed. The power and pleasure brought on by such acts had made her forget for a time her pain, but afterwards when she came back to her self she was almost sickened and without fail disposed of her one-time lover. Besides, if she could not have a meaningful tie with her husband it would be folly to form such powerful ties with others and let them live. Such magic was not to be taken lightly.
After the first time, she purposefully chose muggleborn witches to make it easier on herself. After the second, she started looking into rituals that required death; no sense in wasting all that blood.
And then she was Marked.
Between apprenticing with her master and learning from him, following his orders, training, running her household small as it was, and experimenting with magic, Bellatrix had grown powerful and developed a subtle understanding of magic. She could taste the differences in magics, feel lingering traces where others couldn't detect any, and literally see the power rolling off her lord. Sometimes, in her deepest thoughts, she wondered if even the Dark Lord, for all his might, could sense magic as she could. It did not matter though. His power was beautiful and she would do almost anything to be allowed near it, to feel it flow with pleasant emotions as she brought back good news of success.
That his teachings let her own power grow was no small matter, either. She would likely never be as strong as him, even as he had been when she first saw him, even if his strength grew no more. But it was enough that she could become his shadow, become strong enough to stand by his side and bask in his power. Besides, she agreed with his ideals. Of course she would follow this Dark Lord, to the very end.
But if she was not mistaken, that end had been several days ago.
Oh, she knew he had taken steps to achieve immortality, even had guesses as to what some of the rituals had been, but he had been vanquished by the babe in her arms, and it had been more than three days. The ritual effects on his body had been such that no matter how damaged, no matter how weak, his body would be restored fully before the third day had passed. His body was strong and brimming with magic, it should have been all but impossible to destroy it.
And yet he had been obliterated.
No trace of his corpse remained, no trace of his living magic remained. The Dark Lord, her master, was dead. He might still exist in some form, in fact it was more likely than not considering the object he had placed in her care, but he was without a doubt technically dead.
At the hands of a baby.
A baby that she was even now carrying around her house as she stripped it of everything worth keeping. Somehow it didn't seem like a betrayal at all. Eventually the house had been well and truly ransacked and properly stored away into four large trunks, which were then themselves shrunk and secreted away in her pockets. Who said the dark arts was all about pain and death? Even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to store so much away in so small a space without dark magic. A full ancient bloodline's manor worth of belongings, many so seeped in generations of magic they resisted virtually all external magic, now barely filled her pocket.
"Thank you for your help, Tinker. Obliviate!"
The elf's expression went completely slack, not that it was visible with him bowing so low. It was a shame he technically belonged to her husband, she could use a good house elf like him. But her husband would never give him up, so there was nothing else to do.
She left the manor without looking back to see it disappear in a swirl of smoke. Perhaps she should have kept the broom. No matter. A full minute is spent crafting an illegal portkey, complete with every tracking counter and obscuring spell she knew. No one would follow this trail, or even know it existed.
A final tap of her wand finished the spell and the pair disappeared from the face of the earth.
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