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"Took you long enough" said Voldemort as his follower walked into the room

"I apologise, my Lord...but Bellatrix had a bit of a problem with the birth of the child" spoke Bartemius, a baby swathed in cloths being in his arms, but however, no sound came from the baby's mouth

"And what exactly was that complication?" the Dark Lord spoke as he caressed the scales on his snake

To those words, Bartemius walked towards his master and pulled the cloth away from the baby's face, the small human in his arms sleeping peacefully as the infants skin was cold

"It died, my lord" he spoke but Voldemort was not phased by the news

"Well I would have hoped the child wasn't alive" he said, getting up from his chair and taking the lifeless baby in his arms "is it a boy, or a girl?"

"A girl, my lord" spoke Bartemius

A hum escaped Voldemort's lips before he placed the child away, a small crib being dedicated to it's lifeless body. Voldemort then took a pair of scissors and cut off some of the childs hair, placing it into the bubbling cauldron that was in the corner of the room

"My Lord" spoke Lucius as he looked at his Master "You still have yet to tell us what you're doing"

"I'm creating an heir, Lucius" said the Dark Lord, taking a knife and cutting a line on his forearm, blood dripping from it and into the cauldron filled with Elixir of Life

"My Lord," Lucius hesitated, his voice quivering, "forgive my ignorance, but I fail to comprehend your intentions. How can this act grant you an heir?"

Voldemort turned his piercing gaze towards Lucius, his eyes flickering with a mixture of madness and determination, taking his hand away from the bubbling elixir and having his hand over the bloody scar

"Lucius, my dear servant, you underestimate the depths of my knowledge and power. This ritual is ancient and forbidden, a dark magic that I, alone, mastered."

"My Lord," Lucius began, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and caution, afraid to ask his master the question that had been nagging at his thoughts "considering your own origins as a half-blood wizard, might the child's blood be tainted by a similar heritage?"

Voldemort's darkened gaze bore into Lucius, his lips curving into a chilling smile that held a hint of condescension.

"Lucius," he hissed, each syllable dripping with icy venom, "you underestimate the depths of my mastery over magic. The blood that courses through my veins is no longer that of a mere half-blood."

"What do you mean, my lord?" asked Bartemius

"I have transcended the limitations of my birth," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with a cold authority. "Through rituals of the darkest nature, I have forged my bloodline anew, purging it of any impurity."

Driven by an insatiable thirst for dominance and an obsession with his own lineage, Voldemort dived deep into forbidden and ancient magic. Through relentless research and ruthless experimentation, he uncovered secrets that allowed him to manipulate the very essence of his blood.

With a calculated and methodical approach, he performed dark rituals, sacrificing more than his soul in his pursuit of purity. These sinister acts, a testament to his unyielding determination, altered the core of his being, stripping away his half-blood status.

Lucius's eyebrows knitted together, a mixture of awe and unease playing across his features.

"You mean to say, my Lord, that you are no longer half-blood?"

"That is indeed what I mean" he spoke before turning around and taking his wand, waving it over his bloody forearm, a shimmering light enveloped the wound, knitting the flesh back together and erasing any trace of injury.

"And the child, My Lord? Will she be a pure-blood too?" asked Malfoy

"Well of course she will be, she'll have my blood" he spoke

"And Bella's too" added Lucius to which silence fell over the room "right?" he went on, breaking the cold silence

"No" spoke Violdemort "She will bear the legacy of my blood alone, untainted by any other. Bellatrix's essence will not course through her veins."

"My Lord, if I may speak," Barty began cautiously, "this child is no more. Dark magic or not, can we truly resurrect a soul once it has departed?"

Voldemort's lips curled into a sinister smile.

"Ah, Bartemius, your scepticism does you credit, but I assure you, this is not mere resurrection. It is a rebirth." he spoke, waving his wand above the cauldron

The cauldron bubbled and hissed, the Elixir of Life swirling around the iron walls. Voldemort chanted an incantation, his voice resonating with power as he spoke the ancient spells inscribed in the darkest tomes of magic.

As the incantation reached its crescendo, a cold air filled the room, while ghostly screams could be heard coming from the cauldron

The Dark Lord then took a baby bottle and filled it with, the now, mysterious concoction that was bubbling in the cauldron

After he approached the crib in which the lifeless infant was resting, the Dark Lord picked up the infant and cradled it in one arm before feeding it the bottle with the other.

Soon colour began to return to the infant's cheeks, while Lucius and Bartemius exchanged uncertain glances, their apprehension growing with each passing second. The air grew heavy with anticipation, and a sense of foreboding gripped them all.

Then, with a final burst of intensity, the ritual reached its end, and the child let out a cry—a cry that echoed not only in the physical realm but seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of reality.

"Behold," he declared, his voice a triumphant whisper, "the birth of my heir. Born of dark magic, bound to me by blood and soul. A vessel of power and destiny."

Bartemius and Lucius exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing with the implications of what they had witnessed. The room seemed to hum with an unsettling energy, and the weight of the forbidden act they had participated in pressed heavily on their hearts.

"What shall we name her, my Lord?" Lucius ventured cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper as the child has calmed down

Voldemort's gaze remained fixed on the child...his daughter, his fingers brushing against the infant's forehead.

"Katelyn Lilith Riddle...that shall be her name"

And so Katelyn Lilith Riddle was born, or rather created, her fate being tied to her father, part of his soul latched into her body...but that was for him to know, and for her to find out later in life

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Word count: 1115
Publishing day: 18 August 2024