☤ Pseudonym ☤

~Prologue~

Malfoy Manor is the home of the wealthy pure-blood Malfoy family. located in Wiltshire, England. It is a handsome manor house surrounded by elaborate gardens, maintained to the highest standards by a variety of gardeners. Occasionally Narcissa liked to water the roses or paint the lily pond round the back. But its main purpose was to perpetuate the grandiosity that the Malfoy's liked to project.

The front door of the house is of solid oak, at least ten inches thick with great metal hinges biting its sides. If you are a welcome guest then it will greet you pleasantly. However, beware if you mean harm for you will not leave intact. Inside the hallway is large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering the stone floor. The walls of the entrance hall display pale-faced, blonde-haired portraits lining the walls, and at the end of the hall is the bronze-handled door to the drawing room.

An eerie wail echoes along the long dark corridors, bouncing off the walls. The painted faces grumble at the disturbance to their sleep. Upstairs Narcissa clutches the sheets as she screams again. Sweat trickles down her forehead as another contraction takes control of her body. 'Just one more Mrs Malfoy. You're doing great.' the midwife offers words of encouragement that fall away under the shrieks of her patient.

Finally a soft whimpering conquers the howling, making it cease. A small child has entered the world, supported by the elderly midwife. She coos at the infant and wraps it in a velvety towel. Soon the blubbering desists and there is silence in Malfoy Manor. The portraits breathe a sigh of relief at the abatement of chaos. Though it does not last for long.

The doors to the bedroom are flung open with disregard to the occupants. 'Where is it? I want to see it?' The Dark Lord hisses. The midwife reluctantly places the child in his skeletal arms. She knows what he has done and she fears him as much as everybody else does. The Dark Lord stares at the child, and if the midwife did not know any better she would have said with adoration in his eyes. She rids her mind of the silly notion. This is the most evil person known to the wizarding world, not a caring parent, she does not even know if he would still be considered human.

The Dark Lord is captivated by her onyx eyes, sucking his soul away from him. She is perfect. He raises his mottled wand to the right side of her forehead, muttering ancient words under his breath. He draws a thin line from just above her eye to her chin. Her eyes widen and her lip wobbles, but he quickly spells her silent. So that hushed tears crawl down her face and mouth moves yet she remains reticent, although desperate to be heard.

The Dark Lord turns and walks powerfully down the corridor. Narcissa wails once more reaching for her child yet finding nothing. The image of a cloaked beast carrying away her only daughter.

Barty Crouch Junior waits patiently for The Dark Lord. He has been waiting for this moment for nine months. He twirls his oak wand carefully in between his calloused fingers. Sensing the presence of The Dark Lord he puts it away and stands to attention. The Dark Lord approaches him, a small white parcel in his arms. Delicately, he hands her to him. 'Make sure she's ready.' and with those words he walks away without a second glance.

Barty inspects the tiny being in his arms. Her large round cheeks, kissed by the cold and stained by silenced tears. Along her face lies a white scar, branding her forever, as his. The Dark Lord's daughter.