Ferox Angelus

"My Lord… there is more than simply the food that I invited you to my manor." Xandra Sinclair peeked at Lord Voldemort, her hands fidgeting under the table nervously as she opened her mouth again. "I’m… I’m…" She hesitated, fearing desperately that Lord Voldemort would not even bother to show mercy—if he didn’t even bother to show the weakest, oldest muggles any, what chance did she have? Even asking Lord Voldemort to accept her marriage to Adonis, who was a Muggle-born was quite a stretch to his limits.

"Pregnant." The last word stood in the air for a few seconds, but it seemed like hours that Lord Voldemort was glaring coldly at Adonis and Xandra.

"I did not approve of your marriage," he spoke, every world clipped with chilling icy razors. "Yet you went ahead with it anyway. I had no choice but to accept it. You are one of my closest servants. Yet, you choose to have a child, whom will destined to bear the load of the Death Eaters on their back, with this commoner?" He looked at Adonis, and the blond young man squirmed under his gaze.

"I will not take this," he said promptly, ignoring the pained look on Xandra’s face. "I will not have the child live." He placed his fork down on the plate with a clatter, and spoke again. "Only approved marriages can produce successful future Death Eaters to carry on the fate. Your child will be nothing more than a weakling."

"Lord… My Lord… Please," pleaded Xandra, with desperation glinting heavily in her eyes. "It is now nothing more than a child. I only wish for the child’s life... so that it may live. I know of Muggles who would be more than pleased to take in the child—my Lord, please…"

"You dare defy me?" Lord Voldemort asked, expecting no answer. "The child will be killed as soon as you have given birth. I shall send a messenger and I expect no resistance. If that is all you invited me here for, my business is done here. Good-bye—I expect to see you two at the next meeting."

He Disapparated in his seat with a soft pop and Xandra exasperatedly cried out onto Adonis’s shoulder. "Maybe the baby will die after it’s born... or we can just pretend that," Adonis suggested softly, patting his wife’s hair lovingly.

"He’ll know," Xandra choked softly. "He knows everything. We can’t run from this one, Adonis."

***

11 months later…

"This is… our baby!" said Xandra in a hushed voice, stroking the baby softly. "Adonis… she’s beautiful!"

"What did you expect from us?" asked Adonis with surprise. "With us as parents, our baby can’t be ugly!" He stopped and looked down to the baby, "And that’s the reason I don’t want it… her to be killed by the Dark Lord."

"Of course not," replied Xandra, "Too bad it’s not a regular baby, if it was, then we wouldn’t be stuck in this situation…"

"Stop calling the baby ‘it’," said Adonis with annoyance. "She’s a girl… and … well… she is a… half-breed… it’s what happens when you cross the undead with humans… I didn’t expect her to live that long with Voldemort alive, you know. And we should name it—her—"

"But she’s about to get killed!" cried Xandra, exasperated. "His messenger will be here any minute… what’s the whole point of it, then? We’ll only get… emotionally… attached and then when it gets killed… Where will we be? We can’t do this, Adonis. Just put it on the bed and wait for the messenger! I can’t bear this."

"Have a heart, Xandra," whispered Adonis. He examined the sleeping baby for a few moments, and set his gaze on Xandra for a long before he spoke. "Atlanta. Definitely Atlanta."

"Atlanta? Where’d you get that?" asked Xandra quizzically, folding her arms and turning away from his gaze. "Are you simply refusing to name it something else more decent?"

"Her name is Atlanta."

"She doesn’t have a name. She’s just a baby." Xandra gritted her teeth, and pushed the baby away when Adonis offered it to her.

"She’s our baby."

"The messenger’s going to be here any minute – cherish it all you want now," said Xandra stubbornly, her eyes locked on the entrance of her bedroom, her lip quivering.

"I can’t believe you’re acting like this," Adonis said, silently awestruck. "This is our baby. It’s not some orphan we picked off the street. This is something that we both had a part in making… this is our baby. She’s your daughter. She’s my daughter. I can’t believe you can just push her away like this."

"I told you," Xandra hissed. "She will die. What’s the point of – loving and--cherishing something if it’s just going to disappear from your world in the flash of light? What’s the point of that?"

Adonis didn’t answer her question, but he shook his head softly, subtle tears beginning to roll down onto his porcelain cheeks. He was so involved in the moment that he hardly noticed when a cloaked blonde young female Death Eater had Apparated into the bedroom.

"Hello," she greeted, not bothering to pull down her hood. "The Dark Lord has sent me to destroy the half-breed."

"Her name is Atlanta," insisted Adonis, stroking the dark red hair that swept over the baby’s head gently. "Is it at all possible for the Dark Lord to understand the… joy of seeing something new come to take its first breath?"

"I am not here to discuss such trashed philosophy," said the Death Eater softly, gazing at the baby. "I have come here to dispose of the half-breed. If you are not willing to hand it over, the Dark Lord will have to deal with it personally and he will not show anymore mercy."

"Just kill it," cried Xandra, startling the Death Eater slightly. "Please, do what you have come to do, and kill the mutt."

"I don’t understand why you are not willing to give up the worthless mutt—but nevertheless, I have been sent here on a mission." From her pocket, the Death Eater pulled out a wand and directed it at the baby.

"Avada Keda—"

"Don’t, please, don’t," cried Adonis, throwing himself in front of the baby, providing a barrier between her and the Death Eater. "Please don’t kill our baby… please, if there is anything decent you will do in your life, please… spare this life…"

"You’re asking for mercy? Have you no idea how incredibly foolish you are right now? Lord Voldemort has expressly forbid me from showing mercy." the Death Eater gave out a short, harsh laugh, and said the fateful words, her wand pointed directly at Adonis. He crumbled onto the floor lifelessly his arms still entangled around the baby.

Xandra stared at the Death Eater with unbelievable intensity, finally realizing how patronizing it was to watch the only one you loved in the world die trying to protect the baby that was to be killed. It wasn’t the same as Muggles dying without knowing what was fully going on, but she was sure it hurt just as much.

"I give up," she said in a quiet voice. "I give up. Kill me now. If you don’t, my conscience—I assure you—will take over… I will betray the Dark Lord… please kill me now if you want to prove your loyalty. Prove your obedience to the Dark Lord… prove the loyalty I never had. Narcissa—just promise me you’ll save the baby."

"You were a good Death Eater," the Death Eater said sadly. "You don’t deserve this. Just let me kill the mutt, and you won’t die like your Mudblood boyfriend."

"No," said Xandra painfully. "I can’t watch the kid die. He already named her… you know that he already named the kid? How are you supposed to leave a child that your husband’s already named? It’s impossible, but if you don’t kill me… I will betray the Dark Lord."

"Then it’s the end for you, Xandra," said the Death Eater, sighing pitifully and directing her wand to her face. "Your vampire army will be proud. You died in honor."

"Corpus Solvus." Almost instantly, Xandra’s body dissolved into a black mist, and it eventually disappeared in the air. Finally pulling down her hood, Narcissa Malfoy picked up the baby and was about to point her wand to its head, but she felt a strange urge to pull it back and take the baby into her arms.

She started to question her own loyalties, but she felt her heart melting when the baby’s eyelids fluttered open and showed Narcissa her deep, warm blue eyes. "I can’t do this," Narcissa murmured, and before she could change her mind, she pulled her hood over her head and swiftly headed to the last place she ever thought she would be.

***

"Severus. Severus, open up…" yelled Narcissa, pounding on the large, wooden door. "Severus, I know you’re in there. It’s Narcissa. Open up!" There was a long moment of silence, and then clicking sounds and noises of a doorknob turning from the other side could be heard.

"Narcissa. What are you doing? It’s 12:00 AM… Don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of time, too." Severus Snape’s head peeked out from behind the door, wearing a very annoyed expression.

"It’s not like you were sleeping, you know," Narcissa pointed out. "Let me in. I’ve got to talk to you."

"At 12:00 o’clock in the morning? Makes you wonder what you’re up to—fight with Lucius?" said Severus, not moving to remove the magical chain on his door.

"I’m not here to sleep with you," said Narcissa sourly. "Let me in. It’s about business. Death Eater business."

At the mention of Death Eaters, Severus’s face dropped. "What about it? Do you have a message from the Dark Lord?"

Narcissa paused before speaking. "It’s not a message. More of a proposition—you can hear it once you let me in." Without hesitating, Severus removed the chain with his wand and let Narcissa slip in.

His uncomfortably neat living room was illuminated eerily with the moonlight; shadows crawled over the furniture and the neat stacks of Dark Magic books.

"Xandra and Adonis—I was forced to kill their baby," she started slowly. "Adonis refused to give up the baby—I killed the Mudblood, of course, but Xandra made me promise to save her baby—before I was... forced to kill her."
"And what part do I play in this oh-so-tragic story?"

"I want you make a Cloning Potion."

"Cloning Potion? What for?"

"To clone the baby—what else? If I clone it, then the original baby lives and the clone dies. I can’t let this baby die, Severus—I made a promise to the parents—"

"So you’d rather betray the Dark Lord?"

"I know you’ve decided to betray us, too. I know you’re planning to run to Dumbledore. I’m not blind."

There was a long, awkward moment of silence in which Narcissa was sure that she had gotten through to him. "I won’t betray your secret if you make the potion," she said with gently. "I promise I won’t tell him if you make the potion for me."

"It’s a hard potion," said Severus, looking very sunken. "I’ll need a hair, a piece of the baby’s nail, a piece of its skin, and a drop of its blood. The time is just right to pick out those Firefly bushes, though."

"Thank you."

Narcissa stood in eerie silence and froze herself into sitting on the couch and watching as Severus brought out his cauldron and started to expertly mix a bunch of ingredients, periodically peeking into his book of Dark Potions. Strangely, the baby never made a sound as it slept, nor did it move to switch sleeping positions. She suspected strongly that the baby’s mixed ancestry was to blame for it, for vampires never made a sound or moved when they slept.

"The potion is ready," said Severus, his voice somewhat uneasy. "I need a piece of her hair, nail, skin and a drop of her blood. Are you sure the baby will agree?"

"I hope so. The hair is the easiest." Narcissa, inhaling deeply, picked a fine hair and plucked it off. "Hair." She handed it to Severus’s outstretched hand, and watched as he placed it into the sizzling cauldron.

"A piece of her nail." Shuddering, she placed the baby’s left hand into her palm, and using a nail clipper she conjured with her wand, clipped off a tiny part of the delicate nail. Severus picked it up gingerly, and dropped it into the cauldron, mesmerizing him as it sizzled and bubbled.

"The skin. God, how are we going to do that?" Narcissa rubbed her chin, and stared up at Severus expectantly, but he gave no condolences.

"Just hurry up—we have to make this within an hour." He watched the cauldron sizzle and engulf the room into an eerie green light. "The potion is ineffective if we even stray one second out of the time limit."

"Okay... curses, curses. Severus, you do this—I have no idea how we’re going to get a piece of skin off her without hurting her—"

Severus shook his head sympathetically. "I can’t promise this won’t hurt your little mutt," he muttered. He traced a tiny circle on the baby’s right arm with his wand, constantly muttering the word "excorcio" until there was a red circle marking where his wand had been. He tapped on it one last time, and the skin, horrifyingly, jumped into Severus’s outstretched hand.

"It’s a form of muggle torture," he explained, dropping the skin into the cauldron and watching steam rising out of it steadily.

"Blood next— wait. How are we going to do this? She has no blood." Narcissa pressed against the spot where Severus’s wand had taken out the skin, and unsurprisingly, nothing was coming out of the wound. "She’s got to drink someone’s blood," she said, smiling at Severus innocently.

"You’re the one who wants to save her," pointed out Severus. "I’m not giving her my precious blood. Snape blood is very rare, you know. I’m not just giving that up."

"Come on, Severus, I know you had feelings for me in Hogwarts days," teased Narcissa.

"Hey, as much as I appreciate it, my wife and I just got separated," he protested. Narcissa’s face dropped immediately, and she mumbled a quiet apology.

"Fine, fine, I’ll donate my blood to her," Narcissa said, seeing the sunken look on Severus’s face again. "What are you going to do with your daughter? Have you seen her since?"

"Look, just hurry up and get the blood—you’re not here for a social gathering. Save those for the Death Eater meetings," Severus snapped, pointing his wand at the pulse point on her wrist.

"I don’t need you to make me bleed, thank you very much," mumbled Narcissa, muttering, "Vulnus." Blood began to prickle out of a single point on the pulse point of her wrist, and she gathered it up with a vial. She softly pulled the baby’s jaws open, and rubbed her forehead, making the baby’s eyes flutter open in startle. The blood dribbled down the baby’s throat, and quickly, Narcissa pointed her wand to the baby’s wrist’s pulse point, and commanded, "Vulnus."

A single drop of blood came out, but it was all they needed. Severus gathered it up carefully with another vial, and dropped it into the bubbling cauldron.

The cauldron now engulfed the room in a dazzling golden light, making Narcissa breathless for a few moments. "Place the baby in," Severus commanded. "Take off its clothes and put the baby in."

Mesmerized, Narcissa peeled the clothing the baby was wearing, and dipped it into the cauldron. "Are you sure it will fit?" she asked, distracted. The baby seemed to not take notice of where it was about to be dipped into, as it looked around with interest and curiosity, and giggled happily.

"Oh it will," assured Severus, rolling the sleeves of his robes up and dipping his wand into the cauldron.

"Terra, ventus, incendia, aqua

Ego dico illa elementum

Ut pario effingo au is creatura," he chanted, peeking at the open Dark Potions book. The cauldron emitted a bright green beam of light onto his living room ceiling, and a loud screeching noise hit their ears with a startle.

"It’s working?" Narcissa said impatiently, looking up at Severus.

Severus merely nodded, rubbing his chin in distress. "Really quite a long wait. Are you just going to take the clone and go? The Dark Lord will wonder why you are so late. I hope you have a good reason."

"I shall tell him that I had trouble getting there in the first place—they set wards… and I erased them on my way out," explained Narcissa patiently. "It will work. And that Xandra and Adonis put up quite a struggle."

"It worked with the other attacks—isn’t it time he got suspicious?" Severus wondered.

"No, he trusts me," Narcissa said, cocking an eyebrow. "And no, I’m not sleeping with him."

"The Dark Lord trusts you," chuckled Severus. "See, the irony lies in the word ‘trust’."

"I know he’s suffered a bad childhood," said Narcissa, sighing sympathetically. "You can’t blame him. The world was unfair to him."

"So he had to pay back twice as much hate as the world gave him? Isn’t that like two little wizards in the sandbox? Doesn’t that seem so—immature? I question the value of the Death Eaters these days." Severus didn’t seem to be quite as surprised as Narcissa when a ghostly, green-tinted hologram of the baby rose above the cauldron, and began to fade into character.

"You were a Death Eater," reminded Narcissa. "Why are you quitting, anyway? It’s not too bad being in it…"

Severus didn’t reply; his eyes were cast intently on the hologram, and he watched as it began to shape into a real person. Narcissa said no more, and watched as well.

The hologram baby began to turn three dimensional, starting from the feet up. Narcissa was more concerned of the real baby’s safety rather than the eerieness of a hologram turning into a living baby.

"It’s done," said Severus dully, stirring his cauldron one more time. "That’s your clone. Where are you going to keep your original baby, meanwhile?"

"I was kind of hoping that you’d take her," said Narcissa weakly, holding the clone baby in her arms. "It’s not such a good time right now to look for a baby-sitter you know—it’s the last favor I’ll ever ask of you. I know you hate—are unable to handle babies."

"You want me to take your little mutt?" Severus fished a very curious and goggle-eyed baby out of the cauldron, her skin dripping with the green potion. "Ew, it needs a change of diapers and a bath."

"It’s way past her bedtime—newborns are easy to put to sleep. Just sing a tune or something," said Narcissa, half-teasing, as she couldn’t quite put the image of Severus humming a goodnight song to a newborn baby in his hands. "And oh, you’ll need to feed her, too. She’s very hungry—hadn’t had anything to eat in two hours."

"Two hours. Big whoop—what kind of food?" Severus looked at the baby with disgust. "I think I still have some of the baby formula that Athena left behind."

"That’ll do," said Narcissa hurriedly, drawing up her cloak and hood. "If you could, I would ask you to breast-feed, but—" she shrugged teasingly, and left swiftly with the clone baby in her hands before Severus could muster up a decent sarcastic reply.

***

"Can’t you feed yourself?" snapped Severus, threatening the baby with his wand. "That’s the baby bottle. Now go eat—drink—whatever it is that you do with that."

The baby looked innocently at him for a moment of thankful silence, but then started to continue its loud brawl again. "Oh god—if only Potter could see me now," Severus muttered, sweeping the baby into his arms and sticking the bottle nipple into the baby’s mouth.

"I have a daughter just like this, you know," he murmured. "Her name is Nike—she’s living with her mommy in London. I haven’t seen her a lot, but I’m sure she’s just as annoying as you."

He drew his head up from the baby, and fully realized what he was doing. "Oh look," he said. "I’m talking to myself. I should probably put you down to sleep. If Narcissa weren’t so desperate, I wouldn’t be doing this, you know? You would probably be dead."

The baby pulled her face away from the bottle, and closed its eyes. She stayed that way for a moment, but her eyes fluttered open again, much to the displeasure of Severus.

"Do you want me to sing to get you to sleep?" Severus half-snapped, sighing. "Oh all right, if it’ll get you to sleep." He looked around, half-expecting the Marauders to be sniggering wildly at his windowsill.

"Bellus venustus incuriosus ac libero

Nare meus pulchitudo nare cum mihi

Per pratum au Catyree

Per flumen au Nile

Nare meus pulchellus nare cum mihi

Meus ferox angelus nare cum mihi," he sang softly, feeling extremely foolish as he rocked the newborn in his hands. The baby cooed softly, and fell asleep shortly. Severus placed her in Nike’s old crib, and settle to an uneasy sleep in his own bed.

***

"Narcissa, do you have the baby?" Lord Voldemort’s fingers tapped on his seat uneasily, which was extremely uncommon for such a powerful wizard as him. "I trust the parents were co-operative?"

Narcissa shook her head sadly, planning her excuse carefully. "No, my Lord, I was forced to kill Xandra and Adonis. They simply refused to hand over the baby, and put up quite a struggle. Carefully set wards, booby traps guarded their houses, and anti-Disapparation charms were placed on the grounds. It took quite a while for me to disarm them all."

"They were rather very prissy about security," said Lord Voldemort. "The mutt is dead?"

Narcissa nodded quickly, and pulled out the dead clone baby from her cloak. "It needed a combination of the Vampire Death spell and Avada Kedavra to fully kill it. It’s half-vampire and half-Mudblood."

"She was a good Death Eater," he said, shaking his head, showing a side of him to Narcissa that he had never shown to anybody. "She was part-Angox, did you know? She was one of the few left in the world. Athena Jyers—Snape’s new wife, was a Seer also. A group of Death Eaters are off to kill her right now, for if they produced a child, the result will be tragically dangerous. James and Lily Potter’s child has too much a chance of being Angox. For now, I must remain the only Angox in the world."

"Yes, my Lord. I trust you have planned out the raid?" Narcissa knew better to ask him if everything was planned, for Lord Voldemort must’ve been the most organized and planned Dark Lord there ever was.

"Of course—you may not join us. Goodbye now, then, Narcissa, and send Lucius my gratitude." He tapped his chair again, and Narcissa Disapparated to her manor.

***

Athena looked at the watch exasperatedly, patting her daughter’s soft hair appreciatively. "Honey, it’s all right, okay? Daddy will be home tomorrow, all right? We’ll go see him tomorrow. All right Nike baby, all right?"

The baby cooed, but shook her head continuously and brawled again. Athena massaged Nike’s back lovingly, but it didn’t help with the volume of Nike’s crying. "Please, baby, please stop crying," she murmured softly. "Mummy has a headache."

"It’s all right, all right, baby, Shh… It’s time for your nap, isn’t it?" she rocked Nike back and forth in her arms, and started to hum a familiar tune.

Bellus venustus incuriosus ac libero

Nare meus pulchitudo nare cum mihi

Per pratum au Catyree

Per flumen au Nile

Nare meus pulchellus nare cum mihi

Meus ferox angelus nare cum mihi

"It’s safe now," she said, drying her tears. "It’s safe now, baby." She took a deep breath, as if it would’ve cleansed of all the sorrow she was feeling that very moment. Nike was now sleeping peacefully, and safely in the magic-proof and magically hidden room. Athena left swiftly after being sure to secure the lock and make sure it was hidden again.

"They’ll never get her," she whispered to herself, humming happily to the kitchen, fixing herself some early lunch.

From her kitchen window, she could sense a foreign presence—an evil presence. No Muggle motion sensor could’ve had a better sensitivity to foreign things than she did—the Seer’s conscience needed nothing to fuel it, and was more reliable than anything else.

You can’t hide from this anymore. Go out. Go out, let them take you. They’ll never get Nike—what’s the point of running away and hide? They’ll get you anyway—they always do. It’s your time. You can feel it, can’t you? You can feel your death now. But they’ll never get Nike. You can feel that, too can’t you? There’s no use in trying to befuddle destiny—look where it got you with Severus and Sirius.

Smiling contently yet bizarrely, Athena sipped on her tea and tapped her fingers against the kitchen counter, humming the haunting and familiar tune. "They’ll never get her," she repeated under her breath against the heavy silence.

Not surprisingly, several moments later, her front garden had been ripped through carelessly by a mob of Death Eaters, their wands pointed out and marching bravely to her front door, one of them with a magical compass in hand to help navigate through the big mansion.

She sat in her kitchen; very still, her ears trained on the sound of the approaching footsteps and jeers. "Come and get me, boys," she whispered, a bizarre smile lighting up her features. "Come and get me but you’ll never find her."

They had already stepped into the kitchen when Athena stood up. "Hello Death Eaters," she greeted calmly. "Care for a cup of tea?"

"Athena—you know who we are here for. Your death and the death of your children," explained the head Death Eater, cloaked in black. "Our Lord has sent specific instructions to destroy your mansion."

Athena threw her head back, and laughed. "You’ll never destroy this old house. And as for Nike, you’ll never even find her. I’ve made it impossible. Do you now how many things you can see and hear by being a Seer? It’s utterly, utterly, impossible, just like my Sevvie."

"Athena—you have grown to be an old, useless, woman. Your life is no longer of worth to us," said the Death Eater calmly, swirling his wand impatiently at her. "Any last words?"

"You’ll never find her," she whispered hoarsely. "Kill me and you won’t find her. Let me live and you still won’t find her. I can see what kind of rut you’re in right now," she added, smiling.

"Avada Kedavra." Green light issued from the Death Eater’s wand and hit Athena directly, making her now lifeless body and fumble to the floor with a startle. The Death Eater walked over to her body, and saw that she still had the insane smile on her pale face.

***

Oh my god. How’d I let this happen? Severus fumbled in his pockets his wand for a few moments, locking every door in his small house. The baby, whom Narcissa had to name Althea, was thankfully already taken away. Go, go, go…

You let this happen to them. You were supposed to take care of them… you killed them. He Apparated quickly with a pop, finding himself under the shadows of a mansion. Damn it. Damn it, damn it damn it. Her Anti-Apparation wards are off... they’ve gone through here. Damn it. Damn it.

As he walked through the ransacked house, his first fear was that Athena had let them take Nike—or worse, they had already found her. The first was more likely, since true Seers had unnatural will—but the will often crossed the line between "bravery" or "courage" and "stupidity".

The second was unlikely—Athena had been one of the top students in her year, and her magic was strengthened only by her Seer’s will and Seer abilities. Her spells were complicated, hard to break, and often combined more than one area in the magical field. He couldn’t help but remind himself of that time she had jokingly turned Lucius Malfoy into a moose that constantly spoke a riddle—unless the riddle was broken, Lucius remained a moose. Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore had solved it in less than a minute.

He ventured further into the main kitchen, whereupon he found the rigid, lifeless yet smiling body of Athena Jyers. He felt her hand, and took it into his own palm before leaving swiftly to the top floors.

His heart was pounding as he raced up the spiral stairs; everything else was a blur. The destroyed, valuable paintings that now hang crookedly on the walls got no attention from him as he finally reached the top floors. "She’s there, she’s there," he repeated to himself, feeling foolish as he crossed his fingers in that muggle way for good luck.

His hands gripped the wall, his head a cesspool of confused emotions, and his heartbeat only calmed down when his hands gripped the doorknob of the hidden room. "They haven’t found her," he said breathlessly, looking into the crib with amazement and relief.

"They haven’t found you," he said, panting and nearly smiling when he saw the brawling baby’s cries for food. He looked down and saw that Athena’s charm necklace was still wrapped around Nike’s neck, its chain twisted wildly. "Oh no," he groaned, picking the necklace off Nike gently, staring at it eerily.

"Oh no," he muttered again, watching as the sunlight bounced off the unnaturally reflective glass of the eagle-shaped, delicately made charm. The one thing that would’ve ruined the moment—finding that Athena had passed on the dreaded legacy to her only daughter.

Severus looked around again, sighing impatiently. This really wasn’t like him—but it was his daughter, he had to remind himself. He was being too soft. Too—sentimental, and too uncharacteristically unreal. He stared out the window, and felt everything around him in a flash—how bright the room suddenly became, how very strange Athena’s décor tastes were, and the calm beating of his own heart.

"I’m not a Death Eater anymore," he whispered hoarsely to himself. "I can’t keep torturing myself like this any longer." He turned away, making a fist and feeling oddly calm. "I can’t keep on going like this any longer."

So? You can’t leave the baby there—it’ll starve to death. It’s the only chance of defeating Voldemort—

Defeating Voldemort? Oh Lord. Look how dumb you’ve become. With Athena’s mind, the baby will hardly be sane, let alone save the world... don’t you know that that fate is destined for James Potter and Lily’s baby, just like Athena’s said? Don’t count on trying to raise a hero, Severus, you’re not going to make it.

So? Athena was a bit cuckoo. How do you know that she’s telling the truth?

"She’s telling the truth all right," Severus whispered to himself, feeling as if he had just been sucked fully into Athena’s world. A growing feeling that he was starting to become as crazy as Athena didn’t make him feel any better.

"I can’t keep you, you know," he snapped out loud, filling up the bottle magically. "It’s too bad that you’re going to grow up as a muggle." He stood mesmerized for a moment before he picked up the baby, irritated, and used the Floo powder to take him to his house.

***

Six years later...(Not quite present-day yet)...

"I assure you, Miss Rita Skeeter, I have never been involved in any kind of Dark activity, neither has my family. Our proud wizarding name Malfoy still demands a certain degree of respect," said Lucius Malfoy. "I am insulted by your accusations."

"But Mr. Malfoy, there is conclusive evidence—"

"Our family has never been involved in any kind of Dark activity, nor has our ancestors. I suggest you leave immediately, for my son and I are wanted in the Dueling Room."

"Mr. Malfoy, please, will you at least try to deny the evidence? I need something more controversial for my first article," insisted Rita Skeeter. She tapped her horn-rimmed glasses frantically, and a quill appeared in her hand. "Please, Mr. Malfoy."

"Leave," hissed Lucius. "Leave before I blast you out."

Rita cocked an eyebrow, but gathered up all her papers frantically and Disapparated out of the manor.

"Nosy reporter," he snorted. "The Prophet’s getting worse and worse.... all those idiotic interns are ruining the paper."

Narcissa Malfoy hurried into the living room, with a platter full of cookies and pumpkin juice. "Oh dear—she left? Lucius, you didn’t blast her—"

"Don’t tell me what I can and I cannot do," he hissed, overturning the platter with clang. The jug of pumpkin juice crashed on the floor, staining the white carpet. "I’m going now to try to teach our stupid idiot of a son some common sense in a duel. Clean this mess up."

Narcissa didn’t move until Lucius had left. She sighed wistfully, and bent down to sweep the cookies into a pan and magically clean the carpet. Ever since Draco had been born, Lucius had made it a goal to make Narcissa’s life more miserable than ever—his unforeseen violent outbursts, the destruction of so much china... everyday his anger increased. It seemed nearly impossible for him to be calm.

***

"No, no, no, Draco—point your wand like this-- you’re doing this all wrong. Look like you mean it, damn it...you’re a Malfoy..." Lucius droned on and on about the form of Draco’s cursing position, and continuously repositioned him. "Good. Now for the actual cursing. Point your wand exactly at the girl’s head—"

"Father—does she have to be hurt?" The small Draco Malfoy looked up with warm, gray eyes, full of compassion.

"Yes. You must not care about your victims, young Draco—this is a lesson I will repeatedly teach you. You must not care about anyone you are to use for your own good—"

"Why?"

"It’s just the way the world is—if you let yourself be used, you are nothing but a weakling, young Draco. I will not have you embarrass our family name like that. I will not have you show any weaknesses. That will be easy because you will have no weaknesses, Draco." Lucius pinched Draco’s arm, snapping the young boy back to the cursing position.

"Father," Draco quivered, his whole body shaking. "Father, father. Must I do this?"

"It is for your own good. The incantation is torqueo. Tor-queo. Make sure you get it right—your wand directly at the girl. Yes, that’s right—say the words."

"Tor—Torqueo." Draco shuddered and bit his lip uncertainly as the girl, a practice target Lucius had hired for his son, cried out in pain. She was no more than six years old, the same age as Draco.

"Son—you show no compassion, you receive no resistance. The more you don’t show, the more you can get back from the world. Remember that." Lucius smiled coldly, reshaping Draco’s cursing position.

"Alright Father—if it – if it pleases you." Draco closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them, he smiled innocently. "I’ll try it again, Father."

This time, Draco stared at the girl with coldness in his eyes, pointing his wand at her. "Torqueo. " The girl made an effort to keep silent, but she failed—a bloodcurdling shriek rose from her, and she sank down to the floor to wince in pain.

"Will she be okay?" Draco whispered.

"Never show compassion," snapped Lucius. "This will be enough for the afternoon. You may be dismissed to your room."

Draco, slinking back and his eyes set on the girl wincing in pain, walked out of the dueling room reluctantly. It took him about five minutes to navigate through the manor to his room. When he arrived there, the climbed onto his four-poster bed and buried himself in the pillows.

He had been sniffling for quite a while when he realized that there was someone standing at the door. He stood up, wiping his face, and turned to look, hoping sincerely that it wasn’t his father.

He was quite surprised—it was the girl that he had been practicing curses on. The girl was innocently curious staring at Draco, with a goofy smile on her face. "Meowie? Why is Little Master crying?"

"Oh. You—I’m sorry if I hurt you. I was only following my father’s rules. Disobeying him would be scary," he admitted, his gray eyes rimmed with redness.

"I see. So Father very mean to Little Master?" the girl looked very concerned. She held out a hand. "My name is Althea, Little Master. I know your father is very bad man."

"Father isn’t a bad man," insisted Draco. "Father is very strict, that’s all. Father isn’t a bad man."

Althea shook her head and smiled. "Little Master must be blind, for Father is a bad man."

"Don’t say that about my father, ever again," he hissed, in that way Lucius Malfoy had always threatened his wife. "He is not a bad person. You deserve to be a practice target. You’re nothing but a weakling."

The girl looked somewhat taken back and angry, but her lips formed a superior smile. "See—now you’re even talking like him! You’ll be another Luke-us Mah-foy in no time!"

"No, I’m not," Draco said, even though he had just noticed how much he sounded like his father: dominant, stubborn, and violent. "No I’m not," he repeated again, his voice much shakier.

Althea shook her head. "It won’t be too bad, Little Master. You’ll get to have your own house-elf. Dobby is a very nice elf."

"I won’t be like my father," insisted Draco. "Who do you think you are, telling me that? You’re at the worth of a house-elf right now. I get more say in this household—"

"That’s Luke-us talk," said Althea, nodding. "That’s Luke-us talk, Little Master. You will be exactly like your father."

"No I won’t. What are you doing here, anyway? You’re supposed to be my practice target. Go practice!" Draco pointed to the hallway, and was about to push the girl out when she put a comforting arm around Draco and smiled.

"You are sad, Little Master. You need to be comforted. That’s what my mummy always says."

"Your mummy allows you to be used as a practice target?"

"My mummy is a muggle," said Althea sadly. "I am doing this because I wanted to know what’d it be like to live inside a castle."

"You’re a Mudblood? No wonder my father hired you," said Draco, making a face and brushing Althea’s hand off.

"Don’t call me that," threatened Althea. "I am not a Mudblood. My veins have nothing but blood—no mud. No mud at all. Wanna see?"

"I don’t want to grow up like my father," said Draco sadly. "But I’m calling people Mudblood and I don’t even know what it means. Am I going to grow up like my father, Althea?"

"No, no, Little Master—see, my mummy grew up like her mother, who is the meanest grandmummy ever—but my mummy isn’t the least bit mean at all. She is a very nice mummy, indeed." She smiled innocently.

"So I won’t grow up like my father?" Draco seemed to lighten up at the thought. "Father is a very mean man. Father isn’t a bad person."

"No, no, you won’t at all, Little Master. Can I be your friend? Mummy is always saying that I don’t have any friends, and I’m sure you would impress her."

Draco thought about it for a moment—Lucius would never find out—but there was always that annoying voice in the back of his head that kept on repeating, "She’s a Mudblood. She lives with Muggles. She’s a MUDBLOOD! She lives with MUGGLES!"

"Okay. All right. My father hasn’t said that I can’t have friends yet," said Draco uncertainly. "All right. We can be friends. You can come and visit and play anytime you want after my dueling lessons."

"Oh wow. That sounds like fun," said Althea, genuinely impressed. "Will I get hurt again?"

"I’ll try not to make it too extreme," promised Draco.

They stared at each other, smiling in the way that little children do, and didn’t notice when Lucius Malfoy had finally peeked his head out of his hiding spot. "That is it," he said, gritting his teeth. "You. Mudblood—are fired. You will never, ever come near the Malfoy Manor nor talk to us—ever-- again." He didn’t even bother to pull out his wand—he jerked Althea’s collar, and dragged her out.

"Oh, father, father, you are a bad man," said Draco sadly, watching as the little girl was dragged out. He made no move to stop his father as he watched him.

***

"Oh, Lucius—who did you fire this time?" Narcissa had grown exasperated of all Lucius’ firing sprees, and found it quite hard to replace the staff.

"The little Mudblood of Draco’s," Lucius said, through gritted teeth. "Young Draco is growing too compassionate. The Mudblood had promoted all of it."

"What was her name?" asked Narcissa curiously.

"Althea. Why?"

Narcissa froze—Althea, Xandra’s baby—she had never even told her own husband what had happened at the Sinclair’s house. "No-nothing. Where will the child go?"

"Oh, she’s living in some trashed, filthy Muggle foster home," Lucius said, glaring curiously at his wife. "Why? Are you thinking of rescuing her from the poor hellhole?"

"No-no. I wasn’t thinking of anything like that—I was just... curious." Narcissa left the room quickly, heading for her own private chambers, leaving a quite angry and curious Lucius behind.

***

Present day...

"All this time, they’re finally getting rid of me!" Althea screamed, shoving the letter under her bed and stomping her foot angrily on the ground. "They torture me for a year, and kick me out!" she said again, softly.

"Oh god, they can’t do this to me," she cried softly, crumbling the letter in her hand and burying herself in her pillow.

To Miss Althea Zane:

Due to unforeseened events, we regret to inform you that you are officially discharged from Beauxbatons School of Magical Arts. All three parties (your professors, the headmistress, and your muggle foster parents) approved of this decision.

We have already taken care of your next school of the magical arts. Professor Dumbledore of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has kindly decided to accept you. Please be reminded that their school year starts a month later than ours, so you can expect your letter near July.

We are pleased you have chosen to continue your journey through the world of the magical arts.

Kendall Jardin

Head Deputy Headmistress

Beauxbatons School of Magical Arts

The letter burst into fire, and a minute later, there was a pile of ashes left on Althea’s bedroom floor. "They just won’t admit that they’re scared of me," she whispered to herself. "They just won’t admit that they’re afraid that I’m going to bite someone. Carry on the ‘dishonor’ of being half-vampire. Oh god, this is so stupid. They just won’t admit it."

"I am not a rag doll for them to play around with!" she screamed, throwing her pillow against the wall, scrunching her face to try to stop the force of tears she felt coming on. "They can’t treat me like this!"

There was a moment of peaceful silence when she stared out the window, blanking out. She turned away, rubbing her face furiously, wiping away the tears angrily. "Oh god. I should really be getting used to this now… First was Abernathy’s, now this."

***

"Harry—good thing you’re here now. Coeur’s coming in ten minutes—last time she was here, Bill and her were all over each other." Ron made a disgusted look, receiving a scolding look from the pouting Bill dressed in leather.

Harry dusted off his robes, and smiled. An array of pleased and relieved smiles greeted him, and he knew immediately that this summer was going to be as good as the last. Hermione and Ron, however, weren’t greeting him normally—well they had said hello, but it seemed as if they were not speaking to each other. When Hermione reached in to give Harry a friendly hug, Ron jerked his head away and started to leave the room.

"What’s with you two?" He asked curiously, after being comfortably settled in Ron’s room. "You haven’t said a word to each other."

Hermione and Ron gazed at each other with intense fiery in their eyes, and Hermione looked as if she was about to snap at Ron, but something stopped her. Ginny was in her room, writing a letter, so she couldn’t explain why the tension between Ron and Hermione was mounting so high.

"Nothing," stuttered Ron, "Nothing is wrong with us, or at least, nothing is wrong with me!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Obviously, something is going on. Not even an idiot would believe the act you’re putting on now. What’s going on?"

Hermione pouted her lip, staring intently at Ron, and threw her hair back. Ron rolled his eyes. It looked as if he was about to open his mouth to say something, but he needn’t have. Fred and George were skipping along the hall, bellowing on the top of their lungs.

"There’s a great story that I meant to tell you

About Hermione, Ronniekins and snogging, too

Throw in the Weasleys and a warm day

What do you get?

Ronniekins kissed Hermione

Oh, oh, oh

Ronniekins kissed Hermione

Oh, oh, oh

Hermione went to hide in shame

Oh, oh, oh

Hermione went to hide in shame

Oh, oh, oh."

Fred and George’s singing wasn’t pleasant, but they provided a logical explanation about the tension between Ron and Hermione. Harry raised his eyebrows, and Hermione and Ron both visibly reddened.

"I see," muttered Harry quietly, trying to stifle giggles he felt rising from his throat. "Will you two be talking to each other anytime soon?"

"Probably not—oh, his stupid brothers, don’t they ever shut and try to live a normal life?" Hermione snapped angrily, poking her head out in the hall, stamping her feet down.

"Don’t tell them to—" Ron began.

Harry cocked an eyebrow Ron’s way, but Ron ignored it promptly, though he hesitated slightly before continuing, "Don’t tell them to shut up. They’re my brothers, and you have absolutely no right."

"Oh, right," said Hermione exasperatedly, "I suppose Harry has no right, either? What rights does he have that I can’t have?"

"Well," began Ron. "First of all, he’s my best friend. You’re my ex-best friend. It’s obvious that he’s going to have rights that you aren’t going to have in this house."

Hermione smiled coldly. "You’re only your mother’s son, you know. If you didn’t want me here so much, why did you invite me in the first place?"

"Because you weren’t such an annoying girl the time I invited you!" Ron began yelling, waving his hands in the air. "God! You would thought that in that complicated brain of yours—"

"Stop it!" Harry glared at both of them severely, and they both backed off. "You are both going to give me headaches for the rest of my stay here. Can’t you just—resolve your differences already? If I had known it would be like this, maybe I should’ve stayed with the muggles." He thought about what he had said—there was absolutely no truth in the last comment. The muggles were definitely the worse choice, no matter what happened.

"Sorry, Harry," mumbled Hermione. "I know our immature arguments are the last thing you need right now. We’ll knock it off if it becomes too annoying."

"Look, you’re both my best friends and I hate it that you’re hating each other right now. Can’t you at least try to be civil to each other?" Harry asked with a pleading look.

"We will," promised Ron. He sent an evil eye at Hermione, and curled his lip coldly. "We’ll try."