"You'll never know love, or friendship, and I feel sorry for you." But what almost no one knows is that Voldemort did once love, and failed to destroy the proof of what he believed to be an unfo...
"But my Lord... She is mine. She is ours," Bella said, speaking the most gentle words she could remember in all her life. She tucked back the blanket from the blanched baby's face. She had midnight black hair and feathery little eyebrows, her closed lids adorned with long and fluttery lashes. She bore an innocence about her that neither parent possessed.
He fumbled with his wand in his hands, "I can't have this." He peered out the tall windows into the black foreboding night. A storm was coming. "Now, do it."
"My Lord, I cannot do it," Bellatrix whispered, staring at the floor, not daring to look up into her master's eyes. Never before had she questioned his orders to kill, to torture. But this was different -- she was clinging to the product of the obsessed devotion she bore for her master. She could not kill her.
Frustrated, Voldemort thrust his wand into his robes and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, approaching Bellatrix. "Give it to me," he commanded. Bellatrix burst into tears and handed the child over, averting her gaze, embarrassed that she dare cry. As Voldemort made his way to the door, Bella mumbled, "Why not the Killing Curse? Why not make it quick and easy?"
He paused, but did not turn to look at her. "Do not question me." And at this, he flung open the door and entered the dark night.
Voldemort did not apparate with the child in his hands. He did not make haste. He walked the streets through the steadily worsening rain with the infant sheltered within its blanket and the draping sleeves of his cloak. Bella's words echoed in his head: Why not make it quick and easy? He was deeply troubled by his inability to end the matter without delay. Why could he not simply wave and aim his wand and have this problem erased as he typically did?
All his questions were answered when he finally looked down into the bundle he was carrying and saw the infant's eyelids flutter as if dreaming. It was then that he realized he himself could not do what he had ordered of Bellatrix. He could not kill their child, for it would kill a piece of him too. He knew then what he must do.
With a crack, Voldemort appeared in his sweeping robes in Godric's Hollow, still carrying the bundle. He passed by both wizard and mudblood dwellings, looking for the perfect opportunity to find someone to do the deed of which he was so embarrassed. The task proved difficult because of the rain, but as he passed the church, he saw a scruffy man lighting lanterns outside its doors. He neared him deliberately, pointed his wand at him and muttered, "Imperio!" The man's eyes suddenly widened as if he were having a heartattack, then Voldemort approached him and pushed the baby into his arms.
The man was about to, unwillingly and subconsciously, approach the house that Voldemort intended him to, when Voldemort ordered him to stop. He reached into the bundle and removed a delicate little arm from beneath the blanket. With his wand, he burned into the flesh in beautiful script, "Ambrosia." He then removed a worn black ring from his white, dirty finger and slipped it inside of the blanket surrounding the infant, sent the man on his way, and disappeared from the Hollow.