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( 𝕸𝔦𝔡𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝕺𝔦𝔩 ! )(PARTIALLY) INSPIRED BY:

❛ write my name in crimson red. cross my heart and back again. i want a kingdom where my love can stand. come on, show me if your love can. we're burning that midnight oil. you know we put this love on trial. ❜﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏( 𝕾𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰... ! )DESTINY OF THE DARKCHANGING THE NARRATIVE

❛ there is something uncanny, demonic, and fascinating in her. ❜— leo tolstoy, 'anna karenina'﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

❦ 𝕿𝔥𝔢 𝕮𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢 of the Black family's practices, perhaps, was the very small pool of matches to pick from in the form of unions. Marriage in wixen society had once been just as sacred as the vows made in blood. The conjoining of families wasn't just a practical and functional union of families, it was not just simply politics, but magic as well, as it always was. To bind the magics of two joining bloodlines together, it was something that had been a scrutinized pick by the family of the wizards and witches. Though, in these more modern times, even that had fallen to the practice of marrying for love and partnership, with no exchange or combining of magics, as the muggles did. So it was no surprise the fast dwindling of the size of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Fertility had become an issue, as well as the famed family madness that often cropped up in members.Bellatrix Black herself was a fine example of both. For years she had been unable to conceive or even grow a child steadily to term, often losing them in devastating miscarriages when indeed she did conceive, so rarely did it happen. It had taken a toll on her already strenuous hold of her sanity, she knew, as what had once been a swinging of sharp moods, often flighty and fierce and a storm like the silvery-grey of her eyes, had become near full-blown demented mania. Perhaps she had always been this way, deep inside, but the loss of each babe was pushing her closer and closer to the edge of the precipice. And then she had lost her baby crow.Corvus, she and Rodolphus had agreed on, as both a constellation and a tradition of his own family's naming practices. Born, but never given the chance to live, as he had been birthed into the world without breath in his lungs, without the beating of his own so very tiny heart, stillborn. It had been the last straw between both her and her husband, who was now becoming impatient over his prospective heir— as if he didn't still have his brother Rabastan there with him as his heir for now, though considering they were amid a war, she could concede his worrying demands for an heir of his own in these troubling times. Still, it burned her to find, not even three months into her mourning period for her little baby boy, he had plans to set her aside. For some Italian chit with another dying yet ancient lineage traced back all the way to Rome.A Prince, not even of the main branch, but a witch of House Prince nonetheless. As if it did not rankle her enough that the solemn, dour young man with the blood of House Prince's scandalously deposed line had gained the trust of the Dark Lord over herself, but to shove her face with the blatant humiliation from that scheming little harlot. It boiled her blood, and coloured her rage red.She trusted Severus Snape little, even if she could begrudgingly respect him, at the very least. He had proven himself to be powerful, intelligent, and had shown his merit after being pulled into their sphere by Lucius all those years ago when he'd still been but a young lad brought into the Malfoy home like some pathetic, rescued pet. He was control where she was instability, silence where she was screams, his mind closed where hers was such a whirl like the winds of a tornado that there was no point to even attempt to read or penetrate the depth of her thoughts. But like her, he was lethal and unpredictable. This distant cousin of his was barely a mind more than the scheming, reaching lady she had been raised as. Sibella Prince, a petty little girl of Italian and Bulgarian ancestry, would gain nothing from this new elevation in station, however, for the tides had already begun to turn.He would not humiliate her this way, taking on a second wife, a mistress, that would succeed in having his children where she had failed. Not with her, not with a daughter of House Black. Never. Bellatrix had been quick to divorce Rodolphus, she did not even care for her share of his riches, though he had signed it away to her as his former legal wife. Signed away a small portion of his wealth from the Lestrange vault in Gringotts— though there would be no harm in his family affluence for there was still the money and treasures kept safe in the vault of the great French bank for Witches and Sorcerers— and had even tacked on a couple of her more favoured properties that had long been owned by the Lestrange family. A nice property in the Northern Yorkshire countryside, near Skipton, a flat and shoppe in Edinburgh, Scotland, and a surprising property in Washington of America of all places.For all that their marriage had been a political one, arranged by both of their families, with just a year of chaperoned courting before their marriage vows had been spoken, there had still been respect and fondness that had been built in their near decade together. A bright flame of passion that had once been lit between them since the night of their consummation, now forcefully snuffed out in wake of such a scheme. It ached to feel the keen wounds of betrayal in such a delicate organ symbolizing her sensibilities and emotions. A small part of her heart had loved him, just as he had loved her... it just had not been enough in his quest for heirs to continue his family line.It stung, the shame of his actions and such consequences now carried onto her name, dragged through the dirty mud by the vultures of their peers, jeering at her and pouncing on such perceived weakness. But she kept her chin up, proud as ever, she would suffer little to no sentimentality over this marriage. No man would shame her so, she would not let him or anyone else affect her. Petrifying her heart to stone, so she could be unmoved, for she could not be the gorgon Medusa to turn all around her to stone as defense against the hurt in her heart. So she had thusly began to dedicate her wrath and rage against her perceived enemies, spilling her affection and devotion to her sister and nephew, as she recovered from her disgrace, only for it all to so abruptly come falling apart with the fall of Lord Voldemort himself. To be felled by a mere babe, the Potter's babe, and he disappeared without a trace.Bellatrix herself had been unawares, spending that Halloween night with her sister and nephew, the little dragon hatchling himself. She had scorned her ex-husband's offer to join his raid against the Longbottom family, if only to be a difficult and disagreeable. Rather, she set her attention on Little Draco as she stayed the night with her little sister at Malfoy Manor. A light and source of unending happiness, was her little draconian star, in the aching absence of little hatchling of her own to hold or love or nurture. Which had saved her life, seemingly, as Lucy was able to finesse his silver tongue into convincing the court of their shared burdens under the Imperius for the duration of the war and beyond. A feat only managed after Cissy had threatened her into keeping quiet."I will not have you ruining this!" Narcissa had hissed, after taking her to the side. Cissa's desperate grip on her hands were like a vice of thorny vines like devil's snare. Ever tightening with every resistance, claw-like for her nails pierced her skin in pinpricks, it hurt. "We have lost enough from this war, and I will not lose you, too! Draco needs you, still— I need you! I will not allow you to be sent off to Azkaban and be the next kiss of the dementors!"So Bellatrix had conceded and played her part well. Even implying some fraction of blame on her ex-husband, just to be that much more petty, which had given her immensely dark satisfaction at the outrage and uproar her little confession had caused. She would never play the cowardly maiden, never one to allow weakness to be shown. She was a Black witch, taught at the feet and direction of Lady Walburga herself. For the sake of her sister and her sister's little hatchling, she allowed all others to see what they wished to see, if only so she could build her strength and protect what was left of her family. Anything for you, Cissy.Life went on after the war, or so it seemed, as the wizarding world rebuilt itself in the shadows of the muggles. The Light had won, and they now lorded it over them, or so Lucky begrudged when he deigned to complain in her presence of his days at the Wizengamot or even the Board of Govenors. But in these shadows, lie a transgression that none had been aware of. One that would change the wizarding world forever, but most certainly her own life as she knew it. Hidden in the light of the plain muggle world, was a beautiful treasure, a magnificent gem, sparkling like a beacon of hope for their family. For her especially.Sirius Arcturus Black, her cousin, the deposed prince and former heir of House Black, burned from the magical family tapestry and replaced as heir by his younger brother- who had, in turn, perished tragically and mysteriously during the war in the midst of December of 1979- had unknowingly conceived a child from a one night stand with some unknown, unworthy woman residing amid the dense overcrowded bustle of muggle London. An illegitimate child, a halfblood child, but a child all the same, with great growing magic roaring through its veins so powerfully it notified all in their family for all of their blood could feel this pulsing urge to search and chase and find and catch in their veins and magic. And none felt this call in their heart more fiercely than Walburga and Bellatrix themselves.This discovery, this uncovering of a secret that none had even known or thought to hide, would change everything. Not just for Bellatrix herself, but for everyone with the blood of House Black flowing in their veins. The blood of their house was proud, old, and powerful, but it was thinning. Perhaps it was now time to switch things up, change old and perhaps even she could admit outdated views, and embrace at least some semblance of evolution. They would need to, they would have to, Bellatrix was in no doubt, to survive, to continue the legacy of their name and blood and house, their ancestry. And while many would mark the start with the birth of this little halfblood witch, perhaps it had begun even before that, when Lady Bellatrix Black had divorced Lord Rodolphus Lestrange.⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.

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( 𝕱𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤... ! )THE WIXEN FAMILY,A MOONFLOWER & THE NIGHTSHADE.

❛ love me. i am pitch black, sinful, blind, confused. but if not you, then who else is going to love me? ❜

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE MOONFLOWER𝕸aia 𝕻ersephone 𝕭lack.( Grace Revna Vidar )born. October 31, 1979.legitimized bastard • heir

Named after the blue Maia star, the eldest of the Pleiades sisters in Ancient Greek mythology, and a Member of the Pleiadesopen star cluster (M45). Maia, designated 20 Tauri, is a star in the constellation of Taurus. It is a blue giant of spectral type B8 III, a chemically peculiar star, and the prototype of the Maia variable class of variable star. Maia is the fourth-brightest star in the Pleiades open star cluster, after Alcyone, Atlas and Electra.Maia was seen by the Ancient Romans as their Spring Goddess which is why our fifth month is called 'May.' At one time, her star shone brighter than any of the others. Similarly, her middle name Persephone is a Greek name that means "bringer of destruction." It is also the name of the Ancient Greek Goddess of Spring Growth, wife of Hades and Queen of the Underworld.

THE NIGHTSHADE 𝕭ellatrix 𝕴one 𝕭lack.born. November 1, 1951death eater • lady regent

Bellatrix is the name of a star in the Orion constellation. It's the third brightest star in the constellation and is located where Orion's left shoulder would be. Bellatrix is also known as the Amazon Star, a reference to a Greek legend about a female warrior tribe. The name Bellatrix is a Latin word that means "female warrior". It comes from the Latin words bellāre, which means "to wage war," and -trīx, a feminine suffix.The name Ione is a girl's name deriving from Ancient Greek ἴον (ion) meaning "violet flower." This was the name of a sea nymph in Greek mythology. She is commonly referred to as Belladonna or Nightshade, though, by Walburga Black. It is a poisonous flower plant with bell-shaped, purple petals and black berries. Deadly nightshade, or Atropa belladonna, was said to be the property of the Devil, meaning that anyone who eats the berries is punished for eating his fruit. Atropa is in reference to Atropos, one of the Three Fates in Greek mythology who snipped the string of a person's life and decided their death. In art and poetry, it represents danger and betrayal.

𝕿𝔥𝔢 𝕸𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝕬𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱 & 𝕹𝔬𝔟𝔩𝔢,𝕿𝔥𝔢 𝕾𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝕳𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝕺𝔣 𝕭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨

⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.  
1 }   Lord Pollux Black (b. 1912 - d. 1990), Pureblood; Slytherin; + m. Lady Irma Crabbe (b. 1913 - d. 1965), Pureblood; Slytherin;

2 }   Lady Walburga Black (b. 1925 - d. 1985), Pureblood; Slytherin; + m. Lord Orion Black (b. 1929 - d. 1979), Pureblood; Slytherin;

3 }   Former Heir Sirius Orion Black (b. November 5, 1959; disowned for running away from home and disgracing family values), Pureblood; Gryffindor; + one night stand; February 14, 1979, Eliza Freya Vidar (b. 1956 - d. June 18, 1981), Muggle.

4 }   Grace Revna Vidar / Lady Heiress Maia Persephone Black (b. October 31, 1979), illegitimate; halfblood/pureblood; blood adopted via ritual by Bellatrix Black on March 03, 1982; originally blonde, but became a ravenette.

3 }   Former Heir Regulus Arcturus Black (b. January 26, 1961 - d. December 29, 1979), Pureblood; Slytherin;

2 }   Alphard Black (b. 1930 - d. 1977; disowned for giving money to Sirius Orion Black), Pureblood; Slytherin;
2 }   Lord Cygnus III Black (b. 1938 - d. 1992), Pureblood; Slytherin; + m. Lady Druella Rosier (b. 1932), Pureblood; Slytherin;

3 }   Lady Bellatrix Ione Black (b. November 1, 1951), Pureblood; Slytherin; + e. 1969, m. February 1970 — March 21, 1979, Rodolphus Lestrange (b. 1950), Slytherin;

4 }   Many Miscarriages over the course of her marriage to Lord Rodolphus of House Lestrange (1971 - 1977)
4 }   Stillborn; Heir Corvus Lestrange (d. December 27, 1978)
4 }   Grace Revna Vidar / Lady Heiress Maia Persephone Black (b. October 31, 1979), illegitimate; halfblood/pureblood; blood adopted via ritual by Bellatrix Black on March 03, 1982; originally blonde, but became a ravenette.

3 }   Andromeda Kleio Black (b. 1953; disowned for marrying a muggleborn), Pureblood; Slytherin; + m. 1971, Edward Tonks (b. 1953), Muggleborn; Hufflepuff;

4 }   Nymphadora Tonks (b. 1973), Halfblood; Hufflepuff; Auror in Training;

3 }   Lady Narcissa Eos Black (b. 1955), Pureblood; Slytherin; + m. 1974, Lord Lucius Malfoy (b. 1954), Pureblood; Slytherin;

4 }   Heir Draco Abraxas Malfoy (b. June 1980), Pureblood; Slytherin;

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( 𝕸𝔦𝔡𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝕺𝔦𝔩 !  )PROLOGUE: WALBURGA❛ The Spark and the Tapestry. ❜ ⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.   The first time that Lady Walburga of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black had felt the spark of life, had been in 1979, mere months after the death of her husband and before the death of her beloved youngest son. The Witching Hour had just hit, signaling the transition of a new day, on the 31st of October. She'd woken from a restless sleep hours before, and was nursing a pot of tea in the sitting room, but she had merely shivered and ignored the spark, thinking she was mistaken. Instead, Kreacher had fetched her a shawl to drape over her shoulders and stoked the fire into a larger and stronger flame to heat her aging bones against the chill of the autumn cold. Perhaps it had just been, in her older age, a spark of anticipation for this year's Samhain, which begun on the 31st of October and ended on the 1st of November, all during the strike of the clock on the Witching Hour. After all, it had been only a few months since the death of her husband, Orion, and much of her thoughts as of late had been on their blood, their sons, both of them. She worried for her youngest. Regulus was doing his best to make her proud, fighting for their traditions and rituals, for their place in society that of which was being pushed out by the muggleborns and their demands for accommodations that were not only a disrespect to their history and culture, but a mockery of their longstanding civilization as well. He was the gentler of her sons, though, as duty bound as he was, and so she worried. War was an ugly thing, and this one had spiraled long out of anyone's control years ago. The Dark Lord was losing his grip on the reigns of control, of his own sanity even. Walburga could see it, even if others could not, and she was wary. The strategist, the intelligent wizard dedicated to preserving their most ancient of crafts was slipping, and where once he had approved violence for the sake of a purpose, a message— deaths that would be meaningful in their sacrifice, torture for the sake of getting a point across to those who were too thick or too dull to understand subtlety of other forms of intimidation or communication— he had devolved into full-blown psychotic violence for the sake of it. Killing countless of both worthy and unworthy blood because he had the gall to feel slighted by the enemy, throwing tantrums that left his own allies terrified of his shifting moods and instability. Those in the Light's midst were skillfully picking off their forces, even raiding the homes of those who were innocent in all of this nasty business save for the fact that they had what they deemed the wrong surname. The Carrows would later be the very example of this in a few years time, the whole family killed off when only the younger adults had been a part of the Dark Lord's circle of Death Eaters. All because they were an ancient family who practiced the "darkest" of magic and were not light-leaning, passing on their traditions from generation to generation. Leaving only the infant twins, Flora and Hestia, at the mercy of the Light, while Amycus was in the wind, and Alecto was all that Flora and Hestia had left. Rather they were now being fostered with their mother's Greek kin, a sister who had a brood of children of her own to care for, let alone the tween Alecto and her infant twin cousins. Walburga's thoughts often drifted away from her to her wayward son, as well, loathe was she to admit it aloud. Her disgraced son, who had never appreciated their traditions, flighty as he was, and never one with the patience for his duties as the heir. She had been extra hard on him, with high expectations, for he had been a brilliant young wixen, with some of the earliest signs of accidental magic as a babe than they had seen in years. He could have been one of their greatest Lords to usher them into a resurgence of the golden years of their traditions and rituals, only to fight them at every turn. At the time she and Orion had thought Sirius had needed the tough love approach, a firm hand to guide him, but he had slighted them at every opportunity, and had even begun to reiterate the propaganda spouted by his Light-leaning peers, preaching that their age-old traditions that kept them connected to the nature that had blessed their magic to begin with was barbaric. That all they cared about was blood status, as if the term blood traitor was only about bigotry, and not the true insult it was, an accusation made to someone who had broken vows or promises made of ancient magic, through blood. For they had rarely even used the term unless applied to the proper culprits or their families. And families like theirs held long memories, never forgiving, never forgetting. But what did they as adults who had learned and dedicated their lives to their craft know against the almighty, all-knowingness of a teenager not yet out of his school years, one who had never even taken his schooling seriously. Who thought naught of their history or their origins, of their tribulations or trials. Only of their pride and prestige as if it was arrogance and disdain to all those below them. They did not spurn muggleborns because they were dirty-blood, though the insult had always been used by the untenpered youths and the uncouth members of their society who knew not of their manners, no matter the generation, since their surgence into society. They scorned the muggleborns and halfbloods who had no sense of their history or pride in their magical bloodlines as they did not try to learn, without the dedication or even the open-minded understanding of their culture and history. All they saw was savage practices and brutal, lethal magic that ought to be outlawed. But all magic was dangerous. Yes, much of it could be wondrous, but it was all a risk if not handled with the proper care and under the strict guidance of those in its tutelage. No matter if it was arbitrarily considered light or dark magic. Hubris only held one outcome, and that was tragedy. It was tragedy that had visited the House of Black, alright, as in the span of one year their had lost their lord and heir, and then a few years later her sunshine son who had once been her whole world had been imprisoned by his peers, the very ones he had trusted, falsely accused of crimes she knew in her bones he did not commit, but was framed. So when it was for the second time Lady Walburga had felt the spark, in her grief for her youngest beloved son, for her husband, for her wayward son who had been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban by the very people he had dedicated his loyalty to, she had not noticed the spark.  Perhaps she should have. The third time she felt the spark, she had known something was amiss. Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence, but three times, now that is a pattern. She had been pulled into a visit with the Lady Druella Rosier, her sister-in-law and wife of her youngest brother Cygnus, who had come to call upon her, the year was now 1982. It was the start of the year, in the midst of Winter during this freezing, snowy January day. Druella and she had taken tea in the sitting room, as the Rosier witch had been trying to convince her to come join the overseeing of their ritual day of Imbolc at the start of February, which was nearing soon. The event would take place at Malfoy Manor, as it had since Druella had handed off the torch for her third and youngest daughter to continue maintaining such traditions as a part of the new generation. Druella had hoped that the visit would encourage their dearest Bellatrix out of her slump, as she had been since the end of the world, hiding and wasting away at Malfoy Manor as a guest of her sister. Alas, Walburga had staunchly refused to attend, having her own plans of quiet self-reflection in her own home. She would light a candle of her own, in quiet contemplation and self-imposed silence save for the right words of the ritual. Only to feel the jolt of the spark of magic in her blood, in her bones, in her gut. Druella had been distractedly prattling away on how much she would regret to not see Walburga there on the first of February, having thought nothing of the spark for her connection to the Black bloodline was relatively minimal, only because of her marriage to Cygnus would she feel such a spark. But Walburga felt it, she felt it with her whole body and in her soul, she felt it in her magical core and with all of her senses buzzing in the air like the calm stillness just before lightning strikes. Walburga is quick to usher Druella out and away in as much of a timely manner as is acceptably allowed. Druella thinks nothing of it, only seeing it as Walburga's grumpiness and fowl mood taking over as it had often occurred over the years. Only growing far worse as she receded into her isolation with the deaths of her son and husband, with the incarceration of her greatest pride-turned-shame. Druella, the beautiful blonde witch, takes it all in stride as she usually does, though leaving in a huff and the roll of her eyes.Walburga, left utterly and abysmally yet blissfully alone, tries to recall the spark and the intention of such a spark, but alas... It does not come back, no matter how long or how desperately she waits. It wasn't until that very fateful night of February 1st, 1982, during the midst of her prayers as she lit a candle for Imbolc, that she felt a resurgence in the spark in her blood and bones and magic. In front of the tapestry, she knelt, at the makeshift altar she'd set up herself, with the help of Kreacher. The flame had sparked to life near instantaneously as she pressed her forefinger and thumb over the wick quickly, magic thrumming through her veins pleasantly as she recited the words that had been passed down through their generations. Then the words of her prayers were next, after a long moment of silent reflection and contemplation, "Watch after my wayward son," she whispered such a treacherous plea, for only her and the gods to know, "I seek a spark that has alighted in my blood, in my bones, in my magic. I beseech the powers that be to show me the way, light the path in this utter darkness. Give me the answers I need."Almost immediately, that familiar spark jolts her, touching down into her magical core like lightning striking the earth in the midst of a storm. The flame flickered and danced in the still air, for there was no wind or air current in this room,  only the pulse of magic as the gods and nature allowed her to see that which she sought.In the shadows of the light that illuminated around her, she saw it. Then, there, the spark. I see it! It was no mere spark of magic, but the forging connection between someone of her blood. The establishment of a new branch. A new sapling, a new flower.For as she commanded Kreacher to switch on the lights, she saw it more clearly than she ever had before. How had she not noticed it? How many days and nights had she spent standing in front of the spot of the family tree that included her two sons. One was the face of her dearest silver boy Regulus, for whom she had screamed and sobbed and raged and cried and sat staring despondently at his many framed moving pictures but most especially his wilted picture on the tapestry, the flower and leaves of his branch withering away with his death. She had felt it, the pain a sharp, ever-present ache in her heart where he had taken his place so thoroughly, her perfect boy, only for that very flame of his life and soul to be snuffed out. Her obedient boy, her dutiful boy, her boy who had so much potential to be a good lord, a good son, a good future. All of it stolen from him and her both, for she would never see him married and with children of his own to dote on and teach and cherish and love and protect. She wouldn't even get to see or have a body to bury, for his casket had been empty, forever lost to her, yet another mystery that would never get solved.Then there was the other, the burnt out circle of what had once been her handsome golden son Sirius, who reminded her very much of Lord Arcturus; who had her brother dearest, maddening Alphard's rebellious personality, and his intelligence, and yet also his arrogance; but also her little brother Cygnus' charming smile and silver tongue. He'd had her temper, unfortunately, and little else from her. He who had her husband Orion's strength, her father Pollux's magical prowess, her mother Irma's ear for music, and Orion's sister Lucretia's sense of adventure. though where he had inherited his penchant for trouble and mischief, perhaps he got from his cousins, Bella, Andra, and Cissa. Her firstborn, her baby boy, the one she had pushed so hard she had pushed away; her sunshine child who had been forced to don the role of her stormy son, with whom only thunderclaps and lightning strikes could ever come of their conversations, to be their only exchanges near the end. Her pride and joy and hope and frustration and desperation.She saw it now. Saw it clearly. Right under the burnt out spot where her son's handsome face and devil-may-care grin had been, sprouted a new branch. A flower, still-growing and small, a sapling. A child. One borne of her line, her son's line, her blood and her kin. Her first and only grandchild. And there it was, that spark, on the tapestry and in her heart. It was both a spark of the magic borne of her line but also of the hope for the future, for their great and noble and ancient house. They would continue on, striving for their survival, thriving under the stars they dedicated their house to. "Kreacher!" Walburga rasped, the loyal elf popping to her side instantaneously, before she had even finished speaking his name. "My Lady requires Kreacher?""Get me my ritual bowl and the Black family dagger. I need a map and sage. Get me my niece Bellatrix, summon her. Bring her to me. Do it all, do it now. We must hurry. For all is not lost as I had feared."Kreacher did not dare to speak, only snapping his fingers as he popped away. The items were brought to her by some of the other elves still left in the house, but Kreacher was gone. Gone to Malfoy Manor where Bellatrix Black, her despondent niece lay defeated in her bed at the guest room she had occupied since the end of the war. Walburga's joints protested the surge of movement, her old and aching bones crying out from the energy she had suddenly found in herself, but she ignored it. A wicked grin began to grow on her face as she set up a new altar, placing the bowl down and grabbing the dagger, using it to slice at her finger. She lit the fires of the candles that were positioned around her on the table before her. She mixed the ingredients she had later commanded be brought to her by the other elves, and had even lit the sage and let it burn around her, waving it around in the air slowly and methodologically, then dropping it into the bowl. "Give me the sight." Walburga spoke after chanting the words to the spell, reciting a long forgotten spell from one of their more ancient grimoires. This was banned magic, dark magic. Blood magic. But it was the most effective for what she needed. "Show me the child!"She slowly dripped the concoction onto the table, over the map, before placing the bowl down and chanting once more. The flames grew, her power and magic surging, the rays of moonlight coming in from the window of the room shining down over the map as she worked the spell. And then it happened, the blood and herbs mixed together began to move, and the flower on the tapestry bloomed. Walburga suddenly froze and stopped her chants, as the spell worked its course. She stared in awe at the new flower that had bloomed under her son. Form every babe that ever was born from their tree, a new and different flower or plant took place before being accepted into the family and thusly replaced with the face, with only the flower or plant decorating the image of the scroll with their names. That was why her Bellatrix was their nightshade, their belladonna. Narcissa was named for her flower on the tree. Her Sirius had been a gladiolus, her Regulus an indigo— though now the flowers near Sirius' name had begun to wither, a reflection of his current state locked up in Azkaban, and the flowers near Regulus' name were fully wilted and dead, just like him. But her grandchild, her heir, their flower was growing and thriving and withstanding this very dark time. Basking in the pale light of the moon, hiding from the sun's bright rays. It was a beautiful flower of darkness and a showcase of serenity in the night. A flower of the stars and the moon, a true flower worthy of their name, if not matching in the color of their name. A moonflower. White and delicate and beautiful, seemingly glowing in the dark under the beams of moonlight that poured through the room as it stretched out and twirled out its petals from its previously furrowed and enclosed bud form.Beautiful and ethereal. Breathtaking and magical. A magnificent omen for the future of their house. Soon enough, a face would be added, once the child had been named and accepted into the family per the ancient rites. But he or she was here, and they were alive, and they had magic. For the sparks she had been feeling were no coincidence, it meant something. It was not just the spark of life she had been feeling, but the sparks of magic growing within this child. The sparks were the echoes of accidental magic being showcased within this child. Oh how powerful this child would be, Walburga thought, recalling she had been feeling this spark on and off for a couple of years now. This child would be their hope, their path to a better future and a stronger house. This child would be her everything. Now she must rest. She must wait, and plan, and set her plans into motion. Like a woman reborn, rejuvenated with hope and life and happiness, Walburga Black smiled as she left the room, moving to her sitting room as she requested a new pot of tea brewed. Earl Grey and Bergamot, with a pinch of brown sugar, for her darling nightshade Bellatrix and her endearing secret sweet tooth. All she must do now is wait, awaiting her niece's arrival for the very start of her plans to come together. Gazing over to the small frames of her family, captured in moving pictures, she tenderly grabbed the one with her family when they had still been whole, one of the few that survived, that she had kept and not been able to destroy or hide away when her lion for a son had run away from home, running to the Potters and replacing her with Euphemia Fawley. Her gaze slid over the face of her sons, then to her husband, and she allowed herself to take a moment as she closed her eyes and imaged the visage of her boys all in front of her, and she whispered a promise, a vow she intended to keep, if only to herself. "I shall do our new child right. I shall not allow them to be forsaken. I will do right to you, my sons, for you both will live on in this child. The best parts of you shall live on. We will not be forgotten. We will live on, through our moonflower."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

( 𝕸𝔦𝔡𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝕺𝔦𝔩 !  )
ONE: BELLATRIX❛ Finding a Moonflower. ❜

⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.

Bellatrix resisted the urge to snarl after a man had rudely shoved past her on the busy sidewalk. Instead she pushed herself to continue on this seemingly endless trek. It had been hours since she'd set out on the streets of the bustling city of London, and the winter chill was still quite prevalent in this early February evening.That she had been pulled away from her sister and nephew in the midst of their sacred rituals of Imbolc was absurd, though at the very least Kreacher had waited until the rituals themselves were over and saved her from the quiet but crowded dinner at the Malfoy Manor amidst all those who had come at Lady Malfoy's invitation. Including their own parents, who Bellatrix had been hopelessly avoiding since her divorce. That the summons had been from Aunt Walburga, the Lady of House Black, was an entirely different manner. One taken much more seriously, and to be fulfilled dutifully lest they chance their formidable aunt's temper.

⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.

"Must you leave so soon?" Narcissa asked softly, holding onto Bellatrix's hand tightly in between her own two hands."Aunt Walburga awaits, Cissy," Bellatrix grinned, "You know better than I that it can be considered quite rude to leave the Lady of the House waiting on a summons.""As if you'd ever cared about propriety," Narcissa scoffed lowly, shaking her head as she withheld her urge to roll her eyes. Her soft, pale blonde curls bounced about her shoulders at the movement, but remained perfectly styled in their rolling curls.Bellatrix paused for a second as she glanced around the room. Narcissa and Bellatrix had moved away from the guests who had all congregated in the dining room for a proper dinner. But when Kreacher had appeared, disrupting the peace that had lingered from their contemplations and introspective prayers, Narcissa, as Lady of the House, had followed her husband Lucius' recommendation they take this to another room. So currently they were in the library's sitting area, Kreacher stood expectantly at the door, awaiting for Bellatrix to join him in apparating to Grimmauld Place. Finally, Bellatrix glanced over towards her sister and noted the way she wrung her hands together, an imperceptible and subtle version of a nervous habit she'd had as a child, but one Bellatrix was keen on recognizing after spending an entire childhood with her youngest sister all the same."I'll be back soon," Bellatrix reassured softly, voice hushed, as she gripped her sister's hands back, stilling them from their anxious fidgeting.After a moment, Narcissa took a steadying breath. Her voice was so quiet, so small, Bellatrix was thrown into the past, a memory of her little sister coming to her in the dead of night, crawling into her bed, asking her to chase the nightmares away. "You don't think they finally found...?"Bellatrix's grip on her sister tightened, an action reciprocated. A piece of her heart hurt at the reminder of their loss, their younger cousin who had been more like a little brother to them, the poor silver prince of House Black who had perished mysteriously. "It's been just over two years, Cissa," Bellatrix's low response still seems to echo in the silent room. Her eyes flicker over to Kreacher, and then she shakes her head. "Though I wish it were so, you and I both know that Kreacher would be much more impatient than he usually is."Narcissa nodded, her expression shifting as she swallowed down her own grief as a wound reopened unintentionally. She glanced over to the grouch house elf's form, who was indeed standing impatiently, watching them intently. "Then I must not keep you," Narcissa took a steadying breath before taking a step back. Their hands remained linked until they were forced to part of the warm contact. Her face and demeanor finally regained their proper composure of a lady of a great lordly house such as she. "I shall await your prompt return."Bellatrix sent a crooked smirk back at her sister, as she allowed the thoughts of a boy who had been like their little brother to fade from her mind. She stepped closer to Kreacher, and before they knew it, they were popping out of Malfoy Manor and reappearing in Grimmauld Place.What she was greeted with was more or less what she had expected. At least, initially it seemed so."Well, that certainly took you long enough."There, in the sitting room, sat Walburga on her chair, back straight and head held high, like a queen holding court on her throne. A glass of wine rested in one of her hands, which looked as if she had been nursing for quite some time, swirling around in its clear glass cup to pass the time. Odd, considering Walburga seldom drank unless it was required for a social custom. 'One was less in control of oneself when one drank more than they should,' Walburga had always spouted to her."Considering you called me away in the midst of our Imbolc rituals, you could imagine my sweet sister's reluctance and displeasure at seeing me go immediately." Bellatrix spoke, examining her aunt before her.Walburga's own composure remained unchanged, her eyes ever narrowed in sharp observance of those before her. "Then you'll give my apologies to Lady Malfoy for the intrusion."Bella inclined her head in a single nod, still a little confused on why she had been brought to her aunt. "But of course, Aunt." Bellatrix mocked a bow, her arms sweeping around her in the gestures over exaggeratedly. One may even infer it was disrespectful, in front of a Lady of the House."Impertinent child, do you never learn?" But the chastisement had none of Walburga's usual bite, only mirth and amusement clear in her voice if not in the smirking-smile that grew affectionately warm on her usually stoic face. "Come here, child, let me have a look at you."Bellatrix grinned, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the older woman, allowing her to take her face in her hands, and examine her. "It's good to see you, Aunt.""How I have missed your ferocity in my house, Nightshade," Walburga murmurs gently, taking in the face of her favorite niece.Bellatrix had always taken great pride in being the coveted favourite of Lady Walburga. Knowing that the woman, who had only dutifully had children for the sake of their line, had always thought of her as the daughter she had always wanted. In truth, Bellatrix had spent much more time under the care and training of her aunt than her sisters, taken under her aunt's wing and groomed to be a proper lady by her aunt rather than her own mother, who had spent more time and attention training Narcissa and Andromeda."I have a favour I need of you to fulfill, my Belladonna," Walburga speaks haltingly, voice hushed into a quiet whisper, worn hands leaving Bellatrix's face and moving to take her own hands in her grasp."What is it?" Bellatrix asks curiously, inspecting the older woman. Her face was wrinkling with her age, but ever beautiful, as was the allure of those in their house, with dark hair greying and those sharp, dark grey eyes of hers, much darker than the eyes of Bellatrix' own father. Bellatrix had her aunt's same eyes, a darker stormy grey than that of her sisters. Narcissa seemed to have the blue of the Rosier line mixed into her silver-grey eyes, and Andromeda's eyes were of a regular, lighter grey like their father.But there was a lightness to her countenance that Bellatrix was just now noticing in her aunt's demeanour. A light of hope to chase away the darkness of her despair as had been her wont since the death of their prince of the House, her youngest son Regulus. Which had only darkened in the unfair arrest and imprisonment of her eldest yet disowned son Sirius. It gave Bellatrix pause, seeing it lighting her aunt's eyes in a way she had thought forever gone with Regulus."There has been a child," Walburga says softly, her hope heavily evident in her rasping voice. A happiness rising in her that left Bellatrix stunned, much more so by the words themselves than her aunt's show of emotion, but nonetheless affected by it. And yet a spark of green envy bloomed within her, knowing someone else in their family had gotten that which she had always wanted. "A blossoming bud on the family tree. Come, let me show you!"Bellatrix stumbled after her aunt up the stairs and to the room dedicated to their family tree. She saw the altar where her aunt had undoubtedly practiced the ritual for Imbolc, the gemstones and herbs and unlit yet burnt candle's wick clear evidence of that enough. She passed the nightshade flowers surrounding her own face and name, as well as the burnt-out face of her sister Andromeda with white, dropping pieris japonica flowers; as well as the serenely beautiful face of her sister Narcissa with the bright white and yellow daffodils of the narcissus flower. Under Narcissa was the Snapdragon flowers of young Draco, as the flowers of Narcissa's place on the tree branched out and formed a connection with a new tree, a symbolic demonstration to her marriage with Lucius Malfoy— a similar show of that was clearly seen with cousin Lucretia's marriage to Ignatius Prewett, the half-British, half-American adventurer who had charmed their own adventurous spirit of a daughter in the family.Beneath the withered Dusty Miller sprouting leaves of the deceased Lord Orion, and the Silver Anouk Lavender of her aunt Walburga's portraiture in the family tree tapestry, were the withering blooms of the purple gladiolus "sword lily" flowers of her cousin Sirius, and the wilted dark indigo blossoms of their silver prince Regulus. Her eyes lingered on the indigo's shriveled petals, missing the sight of the plant that often seemed to linger around Regulus, who took to the significance of his family tree representation with just as much meaning as Bellatrix and Narcissa themselves had. Though none had thought the meaning of an indigo, symbolizing wisdom, integrity, balance, and mystery would lead to his disappearance and subsequent unknown death in the midst of the war. To this day, Narcissa always nursed a small square in her garden dedicated to the plants and flowers of her most favourite and beloved flowers and plants of their family tree. But it was the branch that grew from the burnt-out circle of what was once Sirius Orion Black that drew her surprise, more than her grief."Our moonflower," Walburga's voice was soft, yet filled with an age-old pride that Bellatrix had not heard in years.A beautiful white morning glory sprouted from the branch, near glowing in the light of the dying morning that shone from the singular skylight window in the room."I don't see..." Bellatrix mumbles, eyes searching for whoever it could have been that ensnared Sirius' affections, but there was none. "Is the child illegitimate?" Bellatrix asks in surprise, turning to her aunt.There had been illegitimate offspring in the course of history for their house, littering the tree, but usually, that was not the case. Their family took to the traditions of powerful magical unions in their marriage much more seriously than other houses, and so unlike ancient houses like Malfoy that had in the past used the tradition of mistresses to give them heirs when an official marriage proved unfruitful, the Ancient House of Black had instead weathered the storm of the decline in births."Which is the reason I have asked for you, my Nightshade." Walburga comes closer to her side, taking her trembling hands in hers. "You must find this new heir, and I want you to use the ancient rituals to make this child your own.""You would allow me...?" Bellatrix's voice thickens with emotion, eyes welling with unshed tears."A shame, how Lestrange intended to dishonour you so," Walburga speaks, in her usual stern tone, taking on the venom of her ire when speaking of Bellatrix's lout of an ex-husband. "But my Belladonna, you bore it so well, divorced him and took what was yours by right, my vicious nightshade. And you would have been such a wonderful mother."Bellatrix let her tears fall, grief she had not allowed herself to feel over the miscarriages and stillborn of her would-be son she had suffered since their initial tragedy."You, my girl, deserve better than to bear the heir of a house like Lestrange." Walburga speaks, her hand moving to nudge Bellatrix's chin up so that their eyes could meet. "So you will find the heir of our Ancient and Noble House Black, and then you shall raise this child in the ways and traditions of our house, as you see fit.""You would not want to raise the child yourself?" Bellatrix asks.Walburga shakes her head, "I am an old woman, well beyond her days of motherhood, my Belladonna. But you, you my darling girl, could do what I could not, raise an heir worthy of the name to bring our house out of the shadows of our decline.""What if the child is not of pure blood?" Bellatrix asks, "Knowing Sirius, the child could be halfblood, from a muggle mother. What about our words, Always Pure?""Our blood has been thinning for years," Walburga says after a moment of thought. Walburga sighs, "Is it not the reason that you were unable to bear a child? The reason Narcissa had only been able to give Lucius one heir? I realize now that the troubles plaguing our line are of our own making."That in of itself was quite the shock.Bellatrix had been of the staunchest and most vocal of the pride of their pureblood lineage. The Old Traditions were of their most important tenets of their magic for a reason, and yet... of the pureblood families, only those that had been bathed in the light, ones mixing with muggleborns and halfbloods, only they were the ones blessed with large families, or even just easy pregnancies. All of Bellatrix's pregnancies had ended with miscarriages, with the longest pregnancy, the one which resulted in the stillborn birth of her boy, had been incredibly taxing on her body and a near dangerous endeavour. The Weasley family, branded blood traitors after the breaking of a betrothal with the Malfoy family a near century ago, and known for mixing with halfbloods and mingling with muggleborns, their own current patriarch fascinated with muggles, were of an ever growing family. The current branch itself had seven children spawned from that Molly Prewett."While I do still believe in the importance of our blood remaining pure," Walburga sighs, "The Dark families have lost much in the war, and we are in the midst of losing even more.""I don't understand." Bellatrix says softly, so overwhelmed by all that had been revealed to her."We have no heir, my child." Walburga says more firmly, her hold tightening on Bellatrix's hands. "Regulus is dead, Sirius, that disappointing son of mine, is lost to us. Lucretia gave up the heirship as firstborn to Orion in favour of adventuring with that American husband of hers, and their marriage remains childless." Bellatrix blinked at the knowledge being reiterated to her. "Your own union was childless. Narcissa has a son, but he is the Heir of Malfoy. He will not and cannot be the heir of our House. And as far as I know, Narcissa remains unable to bring forth another child that could be raised as the Black heir."Bellatrix's heart stings at the mention of her and her sister's difficulties. Narcissa had been distraught with her perceived childlessness, spending many nights in tears over her lack of child. She had not feared being set aside, for her union with Lucius had been as much a love-match as it was a political maneuver. But her feelings of inadequacy and perceived failing in motherhood had been hard for all of three of them. It had been only by the blessed help of Lucius' little pet potions genius Severus Snape that Narcissa's pregnancy with Draco had come to term, and even then, the birth had nearly killed her sister. Bellatrix had feared the worst during Draco's birth, and it had been the only time she had been glad for that spy's interloping presence, for he had been able to give Narcissa the ability for a child and had saved her life in the childbed with his potions knowledge."This child is a blessing to us." Walburga rasps, impassioned as she is by this news, "The eldest child of my eldest son, even if he is disgraced."Bellatrix finally finds herself centered in this moment, "You would legitimize this child?"Walburga nods, "We would bring our house into a new dawn, with this little moonflower, we could save the House of Black from its despair."Bellatrix chuckles, then, explaining her sudden spike of humour, "Old Pollux will be quite displeased by such surprises.""Let that old man stew in his own bitterness." Walburga scoffs, sharing in her humour. She affectionately pat Bellatrix's hands, which were still held in her own. "Even Old Lord Arcturus, should he voice any unpleasantness, you let me take care of it all."

⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.

So Bellatrix had been brought to the table containing the altar of Walburga's witchcraft. She had noted the Old Magick that the woman had done to find the child. Blood Magic, Tracking Magic, a mix of Spirit and Divination Magic mixed with the forbidden Blood Magic— untraceable as it was as it was not done with a wand, and with the charms of protection done on their old ancestral house.That the child lived in London was another blessing, for Bellatrix would not be gone for long, or so she had thought. It should not take much time to find the child, though perhaps it would take time to find the exact spot as she was unfamiliar with Muggle London. Even with the use of the magic pinpointing the child's direct location on the map. Still, it was cold and Bellatrix was forced to navigate on foot. Her apparition had only gotten her to the general neighborhood the child lived in, in this sprawling, densely populated city.So here she was, stalking the streets in London as she used her magic to stretch out far past its comfort in search of the spark of magic that Walburga had warned her of this child exhibiting. Finally, she got to her destination, though the sign on the entrance gave her pause.St. Jerome's New Hope Orphanage was not where Bellatrix had been expecting to find the child. It burned her to know that this magical child had been left parentless— though it made her wonder about the condition of the mother, had she died? Was she a muggle? This was certainly a muggle orphanage. Wizarding folk did not have orphanages, as it was dangerous for a young wixen to be without parental guidance— if there was not a direct blood family member than other families could take in a wixen child (which had been a proposal for those of muggle-descent so that they could more fully integrate into their society, but the Light frowned on the practice when it came to muggleborns or halfbloods because they thought that those of Dark families who offered to take them in to teach them would brainwash them away from the Light, when in actuality most families that had offered to take them in had only thought to integrate them into their traditions, to guide the young next generation in the dangers and wonders of their magic).Disguised in the muggle fashions appropriate for a cold wintry evening, Bellatrix had moved in. Lurking ever closer to the orphanage, she observed the space visible to her, and noted that the children must be inside for their evening meal. She had seen some children be escorted to a different building by some nuns. The children were dressed in drab, grey uniforms that looked as unstylish as they lacked personality of any kind.But that had not caught her attention. No, it was the commotion coming from the other building that she could faintly hear as she paused her meandering pacing around the sidewalk of the street across from the orphanage's property. Hidden as she was with a concealment charm, Bellatrix kept herself silent as she stalked closer to the property's gate. It became more apparent what she was hearing the closer they got, and it was the crying of a frightened child. Visceral cries rang out, accompanied with the sound of what she was sure were slaps or hits of some sort, and dragging, as a nun appeared outside, storming out, really, with the child in her clutches. Apologies and pleas echoed, mixed with the sobbing of the child. The commotion had drawn the attention of none else, even if the distress was clear for all to hear. The street was empty in this cold winter's night. None would be outside, and none appeared to even be watching through windows, from what Bellatrix could observe around her.The nun had been holding the arm of the child, dragging it behind her, before stopping past the gate. She maneuvered the child in front of her, then, bringing her arm back and forth down on the child's rear a good few times, before throwing the child down into the ground once they had made it outside of the orphanage's open gates. The muggle woman was spitting horrid Catholic rhetoric all the while, calling the child a freak, the child's mother a sinnning whore, and spouting nonsense that the child deserved its punishment for being so depraved to be so inextricably linked with the devil. "We will have no business with such evils in our house!"But the worst was when Bellatrix felt that spark of magic ignite in her soul, like a flame being lit, and her heart dropped in her chest. The child of their blood was there. A child of the House of Black's proud bloodline was thrown out onto the street of this blasted orphanage, near screaming to be let back in with cries and apologies, while this... this worthless muggle woman filled with none but spite, unlike whatever gospel these spiritual people touted in their day-to-day of their so-called loving religion... This loathsome monster was spewing such hateful venom at a child, an innocent little thing, barely more than a hatchling.Bellatrix saw none but red.With a vicious efficiency, Bellatrix snapped her wand into her hand from its holster and waved it as she silently forced the gate to close on the women harshly, the metal snapping and banging into the flesh of this hateful creature. The godly woman yelped at the startling pain, stumbling back. Then, with much glee, Bellatrix hexed the muggle woman. Ensuring she would remember none of this when she was done, Bellatrix was quick to stride to the woman. The spell was easy to cast, though she had truly never actually used it before. "Go back and remember naught what happens to this child!" Bellatrix commanded the compelled woman to comply.The nun left in a daze, bruising already forming on her arms from the gate slamming into her, and so Bellatrix turned to the child, inspecting the new heir of their most ancient and noble House of Black.Stunned, the child, merely a babe really, had quieted since Bellatrix's appearance, watching her. The little toddler staring up at her, face red with wide eyes, was frozen in place much like a doe caught in the crossfires, waiting to see what Bellatrix would do next— whether she would hurt her or not, Bellatrix assumed. The child was a dead-ringer for the black family, in her facial features if not in her coloring. Pretty blonde hair that was more a soft yellow-gold much akin to Narcissa's own Rosier inherited pale blonde hair rather than Lucius Malfoy's platinum-blonde hair, the child also had big, sparkling blue eyes, watery and wide as they were, filled with tears that were endlessly streaming down her face. But her brow, nose, and lips, the curve of her jaw and shape of her chin, the magical allure she could already feel emanating from the child,and that bright spark of magic, like a shining star in the dark night sky, those were all the gifts of the House Black. She looked little older than two years of age, which seemed to follow along the line of what Walburga had guessed was the age of the child.Bellatrix immediately crouched down and cooed, "Hello, little one, it's okay, I'm here now. You're okay, darling.""I Sorry," the child whimpered, flinching away. "Please, no more..."Bellatrix shushed the child, tentatively collecting the child into her arms. Immediately, the child tensed, uncomfortable with this intrusion in their personal space, and Bellatrix was quick to coo out soft reassurements. "It's alright, child, you're safe. I shall never dare to harm you, nor will I ever let another bring you harm."The child slowly began to loosen their posture, comforted by the soft voice Bellatrix adopted and the soft rocking she took on as she began to rise. The child was small and light, and judging by the feel of her in her arms, with thin limbs that dug into her flesh, the child was underfed. A concerning prospect for the child was so young. Bellatrix kept the girl's face in the soft curve of her neck and shoulder, not at all surprised when the child began to cry in earnest. This was a much less violent display of her emotions, as the cries petered out from the loud cries into ones of a softer whimpering, interspersed with hiccuping."It's alright, child, I'd never let those bad people touch you again. No harm shall befall you any longer." Bellatrix reassured as she held the child in her arms closer, comforting her to cease her emotional turmoil. The magic between them settled with the child's emotions, the bright spark seeking out the connection between them, even if unconscious as it was on the child's part, to the roaring hearth flame that was Bellatrix's own magical power.When the child calmed some, sniffling, Bellatrix pulled her back and settled the child on her hip to get a better look at her, and have easier access to use her wand arm. She was quick to magick the mess of the girl's face away, and any evidence of her crying off of her own clothes, which the child watched in staggering awe. That had brought a pause to Bellatrix, her heart stuttering at the look of awe such a simple display of magic had inspired. She was not at all surprised by the flinch and fear in the child, but the awe was confusing. That's when the words of the nun began to whirl back into her memory, and she turned back to the child. Given what she had walked into, the overzealous treatment was not wholly unfounded from such muggles, as the child had probably been experiencing the increased magical accidents, only heightened by the clear distress experienced in such a repressive environment."What's your name, darling?" Bellatrix asked softly."Grace..." The girl mumbled."What happened to your mummy, Grace?" Bellatrix asked sweetly, trying to figure out how the illegitimate daughter of her cousin could have ended up in an orphanage of all places."Sister Margaret says... says..." The child began to hiccup with her hyperventilating crying, and Bellatrix had hushed the child and calmed her down once more before the child could finish what little explanation she could give. "Mummy bring bad friends home... Sister Margaret says she was sinner. Sinners burns, says I not do freakish devil work. Says bad child no get to eat. Freaks be punished."Bellatrix resisted the urge to snarl at the woman's words. Instead, she did all she could to remain pleasant to the child who would only get further scared if she were to let temper loose. "And what happened to your mummy?""Man mad, hit mummy. She sleep now." The implications of the girl's words were a little startling. Had she seen...? How much had she been witness to?"How long have you been here, darling?"The child whispered, as if fearful of her reaction to her answer, "I don't know."Bellatrix nodded, and straightened. She needed to bring this child home with her. She would also need to check the girl for other abuses, she may need some healing. If they were willing to drag her out here and throw her to the dirt like a common peasant, and to threaten starvation for perceived bad behavior, what else could they have done to her? Turning back to the child once she had a plan in mind, Bellatrix asked the girl, who stared up at her curiously, "Well, my little one, what do you think about having a new mummy, hm?""New mummy?" The girl asked immediately, a brightness rising on her face like a rising sun, her excitement rising with every new word spoken. "My mummy?"Bellatrix smiled, nodding, "Yes, yes, of course, my darling. If that's what you wish, I'll take you away from here and we can go home." This little bird was so light, Bellatrix managed to hold her with her arms, cradled the small thing to her chest, and used her wand to apparate them away, after giving the child a warning to hold on tight to her.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

( 𝕸𝔦𝔡𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝕺𝔦𝔩 ! )
TWO: NARCISSA

❛ Discoveries & Revelations. ❜⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.   Lady Narcissa Black of House Malfoy could not help the anxiety that built within her, eating away at her nerves. It had been hours since her elder sister Bellatrix had left for Grimmauld Place to answer Aunt Walburga's summons. The guests who had practiced the ancient Imbolc rituals at the Malfoy Manor had already long left, and she'd just put her baby boy, Draco, to bed. It was dark now, and Narcissa was losing her patience. What could Aunt Walburga have possibly wanted from Bellatrix that it had taken nearly all day? Bellatrix had missed breakfast, lunch, and now dinner, which left Narcissa reeling. Bellatrix had not left her side since her divorce from the Lord Rodolphus Lestrange. Though Bellatrix had maintained her dignity by divorcing the lout bastard rather than allow the humiliation of her husband taking on a mistress while still married, one which would certainly birth the Lestrange heir, it was still considered quite scandalous and almost shameful that Bellatrix was now a divorcée. However, Bellatrix had properties gifted to her as a member of the Black family, as well as what she had taken from her divorce from Rodolphus, and yet all this time she had stayed at Malfoy Manor, instead of hiding out in one of her own properties to avoid their parents and peers, because Narcissa had wished for her to stay. After everything that had happened during the war, Narcissa had not wanted to be parted from her elder sister. They had lost too much not only in the war, but before that, as well. If she had lost her sister, she would have been but a shell of herself, because it had been painful enough to lose Andromeda and Sirius and Regulus. She couldn't lose Bellatrix— not her, too. Not the sister who had always battled away the monsters and scared away her nightmares, who shielded her from the worst of the war and kept her grounded and sane when she had been pregnant with Draco. A small part of her also wished for herself and Lucius to keep an eye on Bellatrix in the aftermath of the war, to ensure she did not get up to any trouble that would actually lead her to Azkaban. But it had been months since that jarring November first of 1981, and as of this very late night on February first, 1982, it had only been a little over a month since the conclusion of all of the speedy trials that had taken place of convicted Death Eaters— of which her Lucius, Bella, and several others had been able to walk away from mostly unscathed. "Narcissa, my love, if you pace any longer we'll be needing a new carpet." Lord Lucius Malfoy mused from his spot in bed, reading a book, but glancing up at his wife worriedly. Narcissa ignored his attempt at humor, instead continuing to fret, "What if something happened?" She began to wring her hands together, "What if she was arrested by aurors?""If she was, my darling, we would have been informed." Lucius sighs, moving to his wife and placing a hand over hers. Truly, if anything on the magical law side of things had occurred, they would have been notified. With Lucius' connections in the Ministry and his seat as a Lord of the Wizengamot, nothing could ever truly officially occur without him knowing about it. "Even so," Narcissa disregards, finally falling upon a decision. "I must go see them at once.""Dearest wife," Lucius begins, incredulous. "The hour is already quite late. You need to sleep, you've been worried this whole day. Allow yourself to rest before whatever machinations those two have been up to in the morning." "I cannot, Lucius," Narcissa whirls on her husband with teary eyes. "I cannot sleep while my sister's whereabouts are unknown. I lost much already, I will not lose another." "Blacks and their melodramatics," Lucius mutters humorously, much to the ire of his wife, who sends a light stinging hex at him— meant more as a nudge than to truly hurt or harm; akin to throwing one of her precious pillows at him. "Fine, fine. If you will not put it to rest, at the very least allow me to escort you.""Oh, Lucius!" Narcissa almost swoons, as she grins up at him with that beautifully bright smile of hers, the tears still making her eyes shine like blue-grey gems under the amber light of their rooms. She presses a sweet kiss to his cheek, and makes to pull away to get dressed more properly, but he's quick to pull her back in and steals a much longer kiss from her lips. By the time the two of them were more properly dressed to visit Narcissa's aunt and the reigning Lady of the House Black, it was now 22:00 at night. Taking a handful of the green dust used for flooing, the married couple stepped into the fireplace and spoke the name of the place they wished to visit, as well as the password. Arriving in emerald green flames, Narcissa and Lucius stepped out of the grande fireplace in the sitting room, anticipating both Lady Walbruga and Bellatrix to be there to greet them, since Walburga had allowed them to be keyed into the wards and to pass. Even when one had the password, sometimes the Lady or Lord of the house were allowed to reject visits. In that case, the magick used to transport them to their destination would simply not work. What they had not expected, however, was to be met with Lady Walburga by herself. She sat before them in her favored chair of the sitting room, like a queen on a throne facing her court. She had a tea cup resting on his saucer in her hand, stirring the hot contents with a small silver teaspoon. "Lord Malfoy," Lady Walburga nodded to him, before turning to Narcissa, "Lady Malfoy, well met. What brings you calling upon my home at so late an hour?""Well met, Lady Black. I'm afraid you've left my wife to worry over her sister after your summoning of dear Bellatrix." Lucius explained."Merry met, Lady Aunt." Narcissa curtsied as was customary, "If you would be so kind to answer my inquiry. Where is my sister...?" Narcissa asked softly, curious, looking around and straining her ears for any noise to indicate Bellatrix was here. Only to find none. "Bellatrix is out running an errand for me." Lady Walburga explained away vaguely with a wave of her wrist, gesturing to the chairs near for them to take seat. "She should be back soon." Lucius escorted Narcissa into the chair closest to Walburga, helping her get situated, before taking his own seat. Just in time, too, as they did not wait long before Bellatrix came bursting back into the house like a true storm. "Oh, by Morgana herself! Auntie! I've found her!"Lucius' dark eyes narrowed, as he stood up, now that Bellatrix was in the room, "Found who?"Walburga, undaunted by the younger lord, kept her eyes on him. As if he could challenge her, she was a Lady of the Most Ancient and Noble House Black! Narcissa felt must have been her Lady Aunt Walburga's thoughts solely based upon her rather extensive knowledge of the woman and the way her sharp eyes narrowed, looking down her bridge at Lucius, even though she was much smaller and currently sat in a chair before the Lord and Lady of House Malfoy.Bellatrix froze as she came upon the sitting room, finding not only her aunt but also her sister and brother-by-law. "Cissy, Lucy, what brings you here?"Narcissa stared at her elder sister in disbelief, standing up from her own her chair. "Bella, why do you have a baby?! Where did you get the child?!"Equally dumbfounded by the absurdity of the situation they had all found themselves in, likely, Bellatrix glanced at Walburga, fleetingly, before turning back to her sister, calmly. It was the most calm she had seen her sister in months. "Cissy, I need you to remain calm. There is a very reasonable explanation for all of this."Lucius was the one to bark out a laugh that was almost half a maddened scoff, "There better be, Bella! Otherwise, you've kidnapped a child! Do you know how easily the aurors would descend on all of us should word of this get out?!"Walburga wanted none of this outrage, though, and simply explained, in that usual raspy, yet commanding voice of hers. "This is to be my heir."Which definitely took the wind out of all of their sails, save for Bellatrix, who Narcissa observed held tightly to the child, sleeping as they were and clinging to Bellatrix. Bellatrix was cradling what appeared to be a toddler close to her chest, holding her the proper way that she had shown her when Bellatrix was learning to hold their dearest Draco. The child itself, though with their head turned away from them, all Narcissa could make out was the back of their head, had wisps of pretty blonde hair, like spun gold. A much brighter pigment than the silvery platinum of Lucius and Draco's hair or the pale gold of Narcissa's own hair. Narcissa glanced back towards Walburga, before focusing her attention on her sister. "Who is the child, Bella?" She asked calmly. "An illegitimate daughter of Sirius," Bellatrix informed them, cradling the child closer to her. "She is to be legitimized and brought into the family fold as my child, the heir of House Black."Lucius went on to bicker and rant and rave with Walburga, who matched his ire and fire with just as much enthusiasm, never one to black down, but Narcissa moved closer to her sister and the child, instead. Distantly, she knew Lucius was protesting, his own distrust over Bellatrix's more unstable and flighty habits posing a genuine concern for this child's well-being. But Narcissa was not worried, not in the least. She knew her sister had always wanted a child, more than just out of duty. Bellatrix had been denied what she had always wanted and each violent end to her pregnancies had pushed her further and further over the edge until the stillborn of Corvus Lestrange had thrown her into the pool of insanity and grief. Keeping her face open and inquisitive, she considered her elder sister. For all that Bellatrix could be unstable, with fickle, ever changing moods like the flame of a candle, she appeared quite grounded at the moment, more focused on the child than anything else. Perhaps this may be a good thing, for all of them. Easing closer, Narcissa glanced down at the darling child that seemed to be clutching at the fabric of Bellatrix's robes, dark as they were. She remembers these robes as one of her former hunting and raiding outfits back during the war, before her pregnancy with the tragic, beloved Little Corvus. Narcissa spoke to her sister lowly in the background of whatever row or debate Lucius and Walburga were having, "You are certain she was sired by Sirius?"Bellatrix smiled down at the child, "She is a moonflower. A white morning glory in bloom."Narcissa's breath caught in her throat at the implication. So she had already appeared on the tapestry! "Where did you find her? Who was the mother?"Bellatrix, then, had the decency to look a little sheepish as something suddenly occurred to her from Narcissa's line of questioning. "A muggle orphanage. She was dragged to the gates and thrown out by this horrid woman. Admittedly, I do not know the origins of her birth mother. I'll have to go back to collect the information in their records and make sure none try to come looking for her, but isn't she just darling, sister?"Narcissa took in her sister in shock. It was not much of a surprise that a loose end had been left, as sometimes if Bellatrix became too focused on a goal, some things were rather left forgotten in the what of the moment. No, it made sense that in finding the child, she would focus solely on getting the child back to safety, especially if they had been left in the care of religious muggles. Narcissa quickly recovered and looked down at the child in Bellatrix's arms. She had a cute face, it seemed, squished into Bellatrix's bosom and sleeping so peacefully. She wondered if the child would look more like Sirius, or the child's mother, or even perhaps like one of them? Clearly the blonde hair had been an inheritance from the mother, but what of her eyes, in shape and in color? What of her nose and lips and cheekbones? her brow or jawline? She couldn't wait to properly meet the child. "She's quite darling, dearest Bella. It brings me much pride and joy to see you have a hatchling of your own." Narcissa placed her hand upon Bellatrix's forearm, squeezing the flesh comfortingly, supportively, affectionately. Bellatrix sent her the softest smile she had seen from her elder sister in years. Perhaps not since before Corvus had been stillborn, yet even then it had been marred by exhaustion and tentative worry. No, perhaps the last time she had seen her sister smile at her so tenderly and happily, full of light and hope and happiness, was when they'd been but girls. Speaking of dreams and Hogwarts and their hopes for the future. After a moment basking in the warmth of their rarely tender, sisterly moments, Narcissa changed the trajectory of their conversation. "Once things have settled, we shall attend to those loose ends you've spoke of at once." Narcissa spoke gently to her dearest sister. Then, she straightened out her spine and pulled her shoulders back as was only proper of a Lady of a Great House such as hers. "Now, have you checked her over? Is she well? Harmed at all by those muggles?"Bellatrix struggled to answer, not at all sure. "When I came upon her, she was admittedly being disciplined by one of those nasty nuns... but I could not say the extent of such abuses." So Narcissa took the lead, placing her hand along the child's forehead. Only to pull her hand back in shock, "Bella, she's running a fever!""What?!"Immediately, the spat between Lady Aunt Walburga and Lucius was forgotten, called to a ceasefire, as their sole focus, with hers and Bella's, settled on the unknowingly ill child in Bellatrix's arms. The fever was hot on her skin, but considering the leathers and layers to her sister's robes, it was unsurprising she had yet to notice. Especially once they had escaped the cold winter night. "Hurry! Go find a room to place the child in, and heal her!" A frantic Lady Walbruga commands, rasping voice shaking in her fear for the child. Narcissa was quick to summon an elf to find her healing kit back at the Malfoy Manor and bring it to her. She then took the arm of her sister and began to lead her along the familiar staircase of Grimmauld Place, a place in which they had spent many days and nights in their childhood. "Come,  sister, let us find a room and check her over."     ⋆ ﾟ 𐦍༘⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏𓆗 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ﾟ🜲.     The fever would have been fast to cure, if not for the state of the child she had found after her scan. She still could not take her eyes away from the parchment that had listed all of which was diagnosed from her full-body scanning spell. Now more so than ever, had she been relieved by her aptitude and time mastering the healing arts. She may not be a warrior like her sister, or even a professionally hired healer like their wayward sister, or a politician like her aunt and husband, but she was skilled in her craft, and dedicated jot only to the healing arts but the rituals of the family, steeped in the blessings of the nature that had granted then power. Such natural power and blessings went hand-in-hand with the healing arts, and even in the potions craft. She had never been misguided or failed in her healing endeavors, only blessed by to have the best of herbs and lucky in her more risky spells and operations— admittedly more so back during the war than before; even if she had not been marked by the Dark Lord, she had been a useful healer in their order, their house a safe haven for many injured in the war. Even so, now as she healed the child that was to be their house's heir... she was grateful for all of the blessings their Old Ways had bestowed upon her now. Finding in her scan the not only have the child faced regular starvation, a few mended sprained joints and bones, and clear bruising over the child's hands, both the backs and the palms, and on her bum, it was clear that the child had suffered under long term abuse by the so-called nuns of the orphanage. If Walburga's ranting about feeling sparks was anything to go by, the Lady of the House had been feeling the sparks of this child's magic, first when she was born, as all births of magical children created that spark regardless of magical abilities or lack thereof, and the next few times due to instances of accidental magic. Astounding, as most children did not showcase any instances of accidental magic until they were well into their toddler phase or older. Which meant that, due to the age and nature of some of the injuries found in her full-body scan of the child, that the abuse had begun with the emergence of the sparks of accidental magic. Horrifying to find, really, because if  things went on any longer or got worse with age, then the child would more than likely be on the verge of taking on such an unsteady form as becoming an obscurial at any moment. Even if the child was not a Black, it was good that she was saved from that toxic situation. No magical child deserved to be punished for something that in most wixen families was celebrated. It was a wondrous occasion when a child of the blood began to show their magic. It was a sign that nature had not abandoned them in their newest generation, that the bonds to their magic through nature, that which had blessed them, was still strong. Eventually, Walburga and Lucius had finished bickering and came to an agreement of sorts. Lucius would fulfill the magical end of the legal paperwork to weave this child into the fold of their family. Bellatrix and Narcissa would, at a later date, see to it that the proper paperwork on the Muggle side was found, and if needed, erased. That was solely dependent on the situation they found themselves in when they went back to the orphanage. Now, in the early hours of the morning of February second, 1982, the small child was resting in bed with Bellatrix holding her in her arms. Dressed in a better, softer material of a child's nightgown, with their hair washed and neatly, softly brushed, by Bellatrix herself, and everything either healed or bandaged to finish healing. All that was left was the fever that was now slowly going down, but not quite yet to disappear. Her elder sister was in her own world, singing softly to the child an old lullaby their father once sang to them, leaning against the headboard of the plush bed, looking the most sane she had ever been in years. It was a marvel, to see her elder sister as she had always remembered, not as she had become in the aftermath of the war. The child was a true miracle to this family, to her sister, and Narcissa could not wait to see what more this child had in store for their brightening future. Bellatrix had been right, too, she was a darling child. A beautiful girl, who seemed to have only inherited all the good parts of their family. While she may not have looked like a proper Black in coloring, for she had honey-golden blonde hair and the most sparkling and dazzling, vivid blue eyes she had ever seen, her facial features were mostly all of the Black family. If save only for the soft slope of her nose and the softer shape of her jaw and chin. But she was but a babe, and children often changed in their appearance as they grew. There was still time yet to see who she looked like most in their family. And whatever was to happen in the Black Family's Old Magick Blood Ritual from one of their many family Grimoires Walburga and Bellatrix were to put her under was sure to have an effect of its own on the child's looks. To not only make her blood purely Black, in some respects, but also to adopt her into the family as a legitimized member under the magical guardianship of her new mother and Lady Regent, Bellatrix Ione Black. Lucius came around behind the chair Narcissa sat in, embroidering to pass the time as Bellatrix and the child both napped in the large, luxurious bed. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, at her temple, and then at her cheek. Narcissa smiled fondly, leaning back in the comfort of her chair and her husband's casual embrace. "How wondrous it is," Narcissa whispers, "To have another child in the family." Lucius is silent for a moment, before he nods in concession. "My only regret is that it is to be Bellatrix's child and not one for your own." "We have Draco." Narcissa whispers, but she does feel her eyes burn with the sting of tears better left unshed. "I believe that must be enough for us, my love." They had tried everything, save for adopting a child themselves. But even now, that would not have been seen kindly by the Light Leaning Ministry, who would have never permitted the Old Magick of their Blood Rituals to take in the child and make them of their own blood. Had the Dark Lord not lost his mind and turned them on a much more sinister path of destruction, and had they won the war, perhaps things could have been different. But as it was, save for a miracle, Draco would simply have to suffice as their sole heir. "Once you and Bella get the muggle paperwork, I will go to the Ministry to get the magical side of things legalized and have a friend file it all away. I'll even backdate things to cover any tracks we may have to hide." The words were left unsaid, but the meaning was clear. One can never be too careful. Narcissa nodded, before turning and caressing her husband's jaw, holding his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. "You should go home and rest, darling. Contact Severus, and ensure the preparations for the ritual are conducted. I wish to stay, at least until the child's fever breaks.""I insist you come home with me." Lucius whispers into her cheek as he presses another kiss to it. "The work has been done. Now all that is left for us is to wait. Bellatrix, for all that I loathe to admit it, will be fine with the child on her own.""Yes, Cissy, go." Bellatrix speaks up sleepily, her eyes remaining closed, but it was clear she was awake, if only barely. "Aunt Walburga and I should be fine with the wee babe. You should go home and rest, tend to your house. We will be okay.""Oh, alright," Narcissa sighs as she makes to stand up, dusting off her skirt. "I'll be by on the morrow, to ensure all is healing well. We must wait until the half moon to do the ritual, so we have until March to get all the needed paper work.""Yes, sweet sister, I know," Bellatrix groans out slightly. "And if her fever does not break, I will summon you back. Worry naught, I would never allow the child to come to harm.""Of course," Narcissa huffs out in amusement, pausing in the doorway to look back at her elder sister. She speaks warmly, voice soft but her heart meaning ever word she speaks, "Congratulations, sister, on your impending motherhood. I wish you only the best, and know that I shall always be here for you to help." "Thank you, Cissa." "Good night, sister."