(Yeah, I figured. I'll go fixy :) )

((Thankees! *goes back to not really being here*))

She nodded. "Well, then that's another thing I'll have to put on the market list," she sighed as Lucius had disappeared. "I'm sure we'll find Severus somewhere in town, right dear?" she tried assuring him. Narcissa watched as her son masked his appearance, and changed herself as well. It pained her to see such animosity between her husband and son, but then again, she was no stranger to the concept of it. Having disowned Andromeda for the sake of blood purity when she married, and the fact that Bellatrix was no longer alive, Narcissa was left without anyone to turn to.

Donning her worn overcoat, she wore no makeup (though she usually was seen with it in public, nobody knew what she looked like without it, with the exception of her family members) and placed spectacles on her face. Her hair color was also altered, though she hooded herself for good measure, and carried her purse. “This won’t take too long, Draco,” she assured, heading to the entrance again and opening the door.

The letter had read:

Dear Miss Parkinson,

We have met, but you probably never really knew me. You knew my mother, though, and everyone in the Wizarding World knows my father, the great wizard so recently taken from us. In fact, most people knew my mother, too. Very few knew that I was ever born, twenty-two years ago when my father was nearing the height of his first reign of power.

I write to you today to ask your help. I wish to honor my parents, and their memories, and to do so I need help. I assume that I can count on you in the coming days as we re-gather our strength to avenge those who stole from us the birthright of power. If you will join with me, you need not reply to this letter; if, however, you choose to take a stance away from me, to deny the wizarding people the glory they deserve, you may find that your circle of acquaintances shrinks even smaller than it already is. Could you live with their blood on your hands?

Yours in fellowship,
Mariæth Lestrange Riddle

She was rather proud of the letter. The others -- addressed to people like the Malfoy family and those children of Death Eaters still living -- were all quite similar, a mixture of cajoling and threatening.

In Knockturn Alley last night she found a discreet branch of the post office which sent her letters with no questions asked. The two dozen birds flew into the sky, a brown and black cloud against the brilliant sunset.

It was now the morning after, and Mariæth knew that many of her recipients would have received their letters. Talk would begin, and some would undoubtedly decide not to join her. She would hunt them down; her name still meant much among the vampires and werewolves, not all of whom had calmly accepted Ministry restrictions.

In the mid-morning light, Mariæth called for the house-elf to make her breakfast. It came, a snivelling thing called Gabby who was blissfully grateful to have a proper mistress again to take care of. Quite competent, of course, but until she'd snapped at it, far too talkative. Gabby brought her the morning's Daily Prophet and a cup of tea. Picking up her tea and beginning to sip, Mariæth unrolled the paper—and nearly scalded herself when the cup fell onto the table with a crash.

Severus was alive? That foul, lying, cheating, double-crossing bastard was alive? Well. She'd be the first person to bear evidence against him—she could come forth in her guise as Marybeth Wilkins, dutiful Ravenclaw student, who had overheard Dumbledore and Snape arguing many times in her years at the school, where she had kept her head down and her mouth shut. Or she could come forth as the "anonymous young woman, recently freed from many years under the Imperius Curse" who had heard the Dark Lord himself giving the orders... she'd think on that. But the sooner that horrid man got the Dementor's Kiss, the better, in her estimation.

Anyway. Gabby had automatically cleaned up the tea and returned with a fresh cup and her breakfast, and so Mariæth set the paper down and ate slowly, deciding her next move.

The Malfoys, she thought. If they were in England, she'd get them first. Lucius might be out of grace with the Ministry now, but his pockets were deep. And she was, technically, his niece... which made her Draco's cousin, now she thought of that. Perhaps keeping the MaryBeth Wilkins persona would be very useful for a little while, very useful indeed. She could offer them help, assistance in returning to society, and out of gratitude...

With a little smile, the daughter of Bellatrix Lestange and Tom Marvolo Riddle smiled a cold, dead smile at her bacon and eggs.

((Ahhhh... Ron&Ginny are kinda confuzzled as to what to do at the moment. Should they look at their schedules, or would it be okay if they skipped that part? I think Harry&Hermione pretty much covered everything.))

((Crunch, go ahead and move on if you want to. People can always add retrospectively, i.e., "While Harry had been looking at his schedule earlier, Ginny had..." No worries.))

Pansy had just received the letter as she had sat on her bed. She stared at it for long moments. Reading it as times, while others she couldn't distinguish letters. She had no idea what to do. The Dark Lord and Beatrix Lestrange had a child? Since when? And she was asking herself to join this woman. No, no NO! I don't want to deal with that anymore. Pansy crumpled the paper in her hand, a couple tears coming down. It was heart-wrenching for her last time, even though she had wanted to then. For Draco. Now, even if Draco would join this woman, she wasn't sure what to do, what she should do.

A thought hit her, a silly thought. It was tempting, though. She wanted to but...she unfolded the paper and read the last bit again. She thought about that. She didn't really have anybody she cared a lot about, except Draco...and Luna. She surprised herself with that thought. Well, she was being nice to me. I guess being nice to her wouldn't be so...bad? She put her head in her hands, tears starting to swell. I dont' know what to do. I don't know what to do. That original thought was still bouncing around in her head, the only option she could think of. But she wasn't sure if it would be good. What if people around her started to die? Wouldn't it be her fault?

The only thing she knew was that if she did help this person, perhaps she would get to see Draco again. Talk to him, be with him even. She frowned. I love him that much but I don't even know if he likes me as a friend. Gah, bloody hell. I give up.
She stood up, crumpled letter and hand and walked out of her room and out the dungeon with confidence. Professor McGonagall would have already handed out the schedules. I need to get mine. She pushed the thought away. She looked around then headed towards the tranfiguration classroom. She peeked her head through the door and found that the teacher was there. Thank the wizards.

She walked into the classroom, her mind becoming less and less sure this was a good idea the closer she got. But not turning back now. She went to the desk where McGonagall sat. She looked at the wood on the desk, not entirely sure where to begin.

(Holy crap! I actually did a really long one. O.O Nothing compared to the rest of you, of course but still!)

((That was a GREAT post, kiona!))



Mariaæth Disapparated from the Lestrange mansion, which was located in a valley a convenient distance from most places, and re-appeared in a much-disused alley in Muggle London. How she hated the Muggle parts of this city! The alley smelled of urine and human waste, along with the ever-present odors of internal combustion engines, which she could hear thundering along the road behind her.

There was a homeless Muggle gaping wide-eyed at her, trying to scramble backwards into the wall he lay slumped against. "You— You— " he stammered.

"I'm the last thing you'll ever see," Mariæth said. She'd taken time over her life to cultivate a pleasant, contralto speaking voice. Deceptively calm and beautiful, with just a hint of lilt in the impeccable high-class accent. "Would you like me to put you out of your misery?"

The Muggle, who she now noticed was a middle-aged man reeking of tobacco, alcohol, and his own piss, gazed unblinkingly at her as she took her wand from her sleeve and pointed it at him.

"It would be a mercy, wouldn't it?" she continued. "No more pain, no more suffering... eternal sleep... do you want that, my dear?" She took a step forward, ignoring the smell. "Do you?"

His eyes, which had been shocked, now looked at her pleadingly. "You're the Angel of Death, aren't you?" he asked, his voice thick with the scarring of his hard life. "Come to take me away?"

"Only if you want," said Mariæth in a low, almost sultry voice. She was enjoying herself greatly.

"I'm so tired..." he replied. "So, so tired. Make it stop, make the pain stop."

"I will, oh, I will," Mariæth promised. The first kill of many, she hoped, and it was truly a mercy for this Muggle. All Muggles were to be pitied, living without magic, unable to take care of life's most basic necessities. "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light that lit the alleyway momentarily, and the man fell back, smiling faintly, but still stinking.

Calmly, Mariæth put her wand back into her sleeves and stepped out into the crowded roads of Muggle London. Checking the street signs, she oriented herself and headed towards Grimmauld Place. It was about a five minute walk, and in that time she was able to appreciate even more the horrors of life as a Muggle. Everyone looked depressed, unhappy, miserable, stressed out, in a hurry. It would be doing them a favor to put them under wizard rule, really.

She arrived at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, still invisible to the Muggles, walked up the steps, and rang the doorbell. It was time to introduce herself to her aunt, uncle, and cousin.

(Thank you :) That seriously is the longest one I've ever written...good luck trying to get that out of me again :XD)

Hermione looks at the three others as she stands up, grabbing her bookbag; which, naturally, had all of her books in it. "Is everybody ready for out first class?" She looked down at her schedule. "Oh. Potions...well, you guys ready to go in any case?" She smiled a little. Even if it wasn't with Snape, she never really liked the class, being naturally ungifted in it. But she would endure it and still manage to do well in it, she was sure.

((13 Grimmauld or 12?))

((12, of course... I wrote that sitting on the clear patch of floor waiting for the bug spraying folks yesterday.))

He heard the faint pitch of the ding-donging sound of the bell. He didn't want to answer it so he ignored it for a moment, until he slammed his copy of an old newspaper down. "Damned bell! Where's a good house-elf when you need one?" Standing himself up in a huff, he brushed down his dark, drab clothes. It hadn't been too long that his family were outcasts, so they still had a slight bit of good quality to him.

Pacing through the house and into the front hall, he opened the door a crack, the chain lock in place. A feminine figure stood before him on the doorstep, one Lucius couldn't recognize. "Yes? Can I help you?" he asked in that snobby voice he always kept.

((sorry it's short... I kind of ran out of ideas... ))



Lucius Malfoy, she thought, had probably seen better years. Poverty and loss of social status had not done him any good.

"Quite the contrary," Mariæth replied, gazing at her uncle levelly. "You must be my Uncle Lucius. I'm Mariæth Lestrange, Bellatrix's daughter."

While she'd seen Lucius from afar during Death Eater meetings, she doubted he knew her face, except perhaps as one of the mass of young hangers-on who always crowded the larger meetings. She wondered how much of her mother was visible in her looks—and how much of her father. Considering that Tom Riddle had been barely human at the time he'd gotten Bellatrix pregnant, Mariæth was surprised that she'd come out fully human.

Mariæth knew she'd inherited the shiny black hair of her mother, and the handsome eyes of her father when he'd been younger, but gazing into the mirror at oneself was never the way others saw you.

((It's okay. I'm crazy busy this week. PS how do you pronounce your character's name? It's confundus-ing me!))

He quirked an eyebrow. 'Surely...it couldn't be? Surely this isn't the daughter of my sister-in-law and the Dark Lord?' Lucius told himself. "Mariæth Lestrange? How can I be sure of such a claim? Do you have any proof, young lady?" Though the looks were relatively similar to Bellatrix, Lucius was still on edge. A follower could easily imitate the object of their idolatry, and the idea of having a niece he never heard of before was quite preposterous. 'Narcissa would be able to tell right away. If only she and Draco were already back from the market.' He still held the door open a crack, and wouldn't open until the girl had evidence to support her claimed heritage.

((No idea how to pronounce it... I just found it on a website of evil names! Mary-eth, maybe? And gosh, you've thrown me a curve ball! *wracks brains*))

----

Mariæth stared at her uncle in utter disbelief. "You... require proof? Of who I am?" She was flabbergasted, and her temper flared. "You imbecile!" she hissed. "How can you not recognize the stamp of the Lestrange magic in my blood? Do you want me to curse you with the Cruciatus so can feel that I carry my mother's power?" Almost ripping the fabric, she pulled up her sleeve to show the faint outline of the Dark Mark tattooed on her forearm. "You can see this, can't you? It still remains, though others fade -- I am my father's daughter, too."

Breathing heavily, Mariæth stood on the doorstep, pointing her wand at Uncle Lucius, almost wanting to curse him.

((I think we've been dumbfounded by wrackspurts. Anyway I'm sorry for my short posts. They'll be better by next week.))

He sneered at the girl. 'She won't let up. I'm annoyed,' he thought. He shut the door for but a moment, only to unlock the chain bolt lock. Reluctantly he opened the door again, but before letting her in, he asked, "What business have you with us? What am I to expect of a witch that tells me we are of kin and yet I've never seen her before? And lastly, how can I be sure this is not a trick and you won't be threatening my family?" Lucius' tone was quite serious. Everything could be proven or disproven. He had only to find a way.

((no worries -- it's hard to have a long post when you're interacting with someone!))

Mariæth shook her head pityingly at Lucius. "I'm very sorry to do this," she said, and actually meant it—she'd much rather not have had to curse kin, especially kin she'd hoped to have as assistants in the coming struggle.

Her wand moving faster than any eyes could follow, she pulled it out of her sleeve, pointed it at Lucius, and said coolly, "Crucio."

He didn't know what had hit him. Within sheer seconds, the Malfoy patriarch was down on his knees, in pain and nearly foaming at the mouth from his expression. Another moment later, and he was on the floor, writhing and unable to do anything about it. Nobody was around to hear him suffer, except for this devil-spawn of a child. The only words he could manage to get out were a stuttering, "Damn you," trying to grasp at his neck with his bare hands to try and relieve the strangle that was there but at the same time, nothing was there. Of course, it was all magic.

Mariæth raised her wand to end the curse. "Do you believe me now?" she asked. "Or did you want another sample of the proof that Bellatrix Lestrange is my mother?"

If she'd known Uncle Lucius would require a birth certificate and witnesses, she'd have gone to Andromeda first, despite her marrying that Muggleborn, and just used intimidation. She'd hoped to simply introduce herself and be welcomed in. Why, in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle, was he doubting her?

"Take a good look at me, Uncle," she said, leaning down into his panting face. "I'm told I resemble my mother greatly." She tilted her head and smiled at him, a smile she'd practiced in the mirror until it looked just like Mother's. "Won't you let me in? I wish to say hello to Auntie Cissa."

"Fine, that woman is your mother! Now get in here before I change my mind." He hissed through his teeth. "Only Dark wizards could use such unforgivable curses. Good God...Bella and the Dark Lord had a child?" He got up and walked slowly into the living room expecting her to follow, and collapsed on his chair that he sat on earlier. "Your aunt is not here. Draco isn't either. They've gone into town, or have you not seen them?" He placed his face into his hands, exhausted, as if life couldn't be any more stressful. "Now tell me, what do you want? We don't have anything to give - as you can see, I no longer own my manor, and," he grasped his worn coat, "we can't afford such luxuries that we once used to. We're forced to live like...like...those damned Weasleys!"

Smiling sedately, Mariæth sailed through the open door as if she owned the place—which, she thought, she would eventually. Andromeda's marriage to Ted Tonks had cut her out of the will, and Bellatrix had been the middle sister. Were Narcissa to die, the house ought to pass to her.

But she was inside, at last, and Lucius Malfoy was standing glaring at her.

"Yes," she said in response to his exclamation, "the Dark Lord tried many ways of reaching immortality, not only the Horcruxes. Mother was his best-loved servant, so she was chosen to receive his seed."

She looked scathingly at Lucius, so downtrodden, so miserable. "I did not come here to ask you for money, Uncle," she said. "In fact, if it's money you need, the Ministry has not yet been able to find the Lestrange mansion, and the vaults are safe."

Lucius had had enough of this since he first opened the door. He didn’t like the look on the girl’s face, and one of those reasons was because it was one he’d seen before – the face of Bellatrix mixed with the Dark Lord. It made him rather uncomfortable and he wished she would leave already. Unfortunately he had not a clue as to her purpose here, so he did have to ask. “If you have no need of money, then of what use is my family to you? You’ve got a mansion, so you might as well stay there in comfort. Tell me this – if you are my niece, why have you been in hiding for so long?” He sat up a little, but his back was still hunched over. “We aren’t a charity case, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He hoped for dear life that Narcissa would be back soon, as he had no interest in dealing with a perfect stranger. It seemed odd, though, as Lord Voldemort hadn’t looked like he’d shown interest in Bellatrix, rather that Bella was an obsessive follower, compared to the other Dark Lord-loyalists, and that she was in love with him. It never occurred to him that Tom Marvolo Riddle would father himself a child. And if so, was he aware of it? It was a rhetorical question – somehow the girl had obtained knowledge of the Unforgivable Curses, and it was also in his mind to find out how she had been raised without Lucius, his wife, or anyone else not having knowledge of the situation.

“The Ministry hasn’t found us here yet. And I intend to keep it that way. I intend to keep my family safe, no matter what it takes,” he declared, rising again. It was then that he heard the lock of the door click, and a voice calling towards him.

Narcissa had returned to the house, carrying only a couple of grocery bags. The money she had only allowed for small essentials – only what a family of three needed. It was a harsh lesson to learn after their fall from grace. Not that the broth she cooked would be so thin – she could afford a two or three-star meal, but something such as venison and the most delicious pastries? They were also gone and forgotten for as long as she knew. She had no indication that there was company in the house, for she was too busy trying to get into the house without being seen, nor did she notice that the door had a few cracks in it – she figured it was only splintered wood for being such an old house.

“Lucius? I’m back, dear. I’ll get started on dinner as soon as possible. Oh by the way I have your copy of the paper…“ She cut herself off as she passed by the living room. She saw her husband’s figure there, along with another, rather familiar, one.

The grocery bags were dropped to the floor, also forgotten.

“Bellatrix?” Narcissa gasped.

"Oh, I fully understand you're not a charity case," Mariæth said coolly. Okay, she told herself, that method won't work. Next tactic. "But surely you wouldn't object to the addition of a house-elf to this place?" She looked around the dingy living room. "I hate to think of the Malfoys having to clean and cook for themselves," she said sympathetically. "I only came today to make contact with my long-lost family, and to see if there was any way for me to help. I had the benefit of mother's company until I was four years old, at which point the Ministry, thinking I was just another witch orphaned by the Dark Lord, fostered me out to the Clearwaters. Very respectable family, but awfully dull. Nevertheless," she said, a touch of steel entering her voice, "they all taught me my manners, and having heard of your troubles I simply had to come and see you."

At that moment, a fair-haired woman walked into the kitchen. She still was beautiful, but in an aged, fading way. The stresses of poverty had been kinder to Aunt Cissy than they had to Uncle Lucius. Mariæth was pleased at the reaction she got, and stood up gracefully. "Hello, Aunt Narcissa." She picked up the fallen grocery bags and placed them carefully on the table. "Your husband didn't recognize me so easily. I'm Mariæth, Bellatrix's daughter." She held out her hand.

She looked to her husband for confirmation. The only response she received from him was a blank shrug and a dark glare, mostly directed toward her alleged niece. But the resemblance was so striking, it was as if she was looking at Bellatrix from a couple of decades ago.

She clasped a hand over her mouth, with tears forming in her eyes. Narcissa bypassed the hand that was shown to her and walked slowly to Mariæth at first, and once she was standing directly in front of her, embraced her. "Bella has a daughter...I can't believe this." She pulled away to look at her. "How old are you? Why wasn't I ever notified of this? She...nobody has ever told me about you! Oh my dear," she ended, clearly at a loss for words.

He put his hands up in silence and made a move to return to his study. Before he left, he shot one last quick glare at the girl and continued walking. Lucius wanted to threaten her, badly. Unfortunately he couldn't do so for two very good reasons.

1) Narcissa was in the room and would be more giving to her niece, whom Lucius refused to acknowledge as his own relative as well.

2) This little girl knew the Unforgivable Curses just as well as he did. He couldn't use them though because of course, his wand was long gone.

'What would Draco have to say about all this?' he wondered.

Mariæth accepted Narcissa's embrace and returned it equally warmly. "I'm not surprised no one told you about me," she said. "Mother told me to keep my true identity secret until the time came, and since the Dark Lord has fallen, I figured the time had finally come to let my extended family know who I was." She pulled away from Narcissa. "Mother was under a stricture from my father not to say a word about my existence. The Ministry, I'm sure you can understand, would probably have locked me up, no matter how young I was."

Over Narcissa's head, Mariæth saw Lucius leave, obviously in high dudgeon. She'd have to be careful around him; he was like a dog: once bitten, twice shy. They'd lost so much with the fall of the Dark Lord, and Lucius would be hesitant to invest in another. Not that he had any money to invest. For now, she hoped that he would simply spread rumors of her around his small circle of acquaintances.

"How have you been, Aunt Cissy?" Mariæth asked, sitting down on one of the dusty couches and patting the seat next to her. "What's been happening to the Malfoys in the last four months?"