Collected

A mad cackling could be heard within the Fenwick home, bright lights flashing in the windows as spell after spell was cast by a manic Bellatrix Lestrange. On the ground, not five feet away from her, was a crumpled, bloody mess of a man, Benjy Fenwick. He was bleeding from many wounds, Bellatrix actually taking the time to carve him up to her liking before resorting to the Cruciatis and other unpleasantries. The young man screamed occasionally but was mostly too overwhelmed by the pain that consumed his body to even make a noise.

In the kitchen, his wife, Marjorie, lie absolutely still on the tiled floor, green eyes wide open as if staring at the scene before her. She saw nothing, however, as her last breath had left her body almost half an hour before.

The brunette witch continued her little dance, prancing around the man, lifting her curse just to throw other hexes before putting him through the excruciating pain once again.

Sitting in the Fenwick's rocking chair, tucked into the corner of the room, was Rodolphus Lestrange, and Barty Crouch, Jr. was off somewhere in the house, raiding it and looking for anything of value.

Finally bored of watching her twisted games, Rodolphus called out over her mad laughter, "Bella, enough!" She turned with a pout, eyebrows knit together. "Just kill the sorry bloke already. I'm ready to leave."

She snarled at him, pointing her wand at Benjy Fenwick once again and muttering, "Avada Kedavra," without even looking at the poor man. "There, happy now, are we?" She asked, and Rodolphus just rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat.

He paced over to his wife, wrapping his arms around her thin waist and smirked. "You know I adore watching you torture the blood-traitors, love. It's just that we've been here for so long. I'm surprised the neighbors haven't come knocking yet."

She looked at him in disappointment for a few moments longer before perking up a bit and placing a sweet kiss right at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Now, where is that boy? Bartemius!" She shouted, and a moment later, a younger face popped out from one of the hallway rooms.

"Have you found anything?"

He shrugged his shoulders, walking to them and held out a couple of potion flasks and a Sneakoscope. "Both Veritaserum. Doubt we need it, though."

"We always need Veritaserum," Rodolphus snapped, snatching the flasks out of his hand and stuffing them into his large pocket. "Never know who we'll need to interrogate."

The youngest of the three rolled his brown eyes and followed them to the front door, stopping only when a shrill sound met their ears.

It was a loud cry, that of an infant, and the Death Eaters exchanged a look, the couple content with brushing it off and leaving whatever abomination of a child it was.

Barty, however, wasn't so quick to do so. He glanced at the two before darting up the stairs, following the noise until he found himself in a small, dark room. He grappled along the wall for the lightswitch, finding it and bathing the space in light, revealing light pink walls with a decorative strip of wallpaper just around the middle depicting several Hippogriffs.

There was a rocking chair in one corner and a toybox in the other, though Barty doubted anything that could make that terrible noise was old enough to play with anything.

Leaning over a white crib, the boy, barely seventeen, came face to face with an infant. It still looked rather pink, actually, with a light dusting of brown hair and a pair of green eyes that looked bit too big for its head. The crying ceased immediately, however, and Barty grimaced, turning away to take another glance around the room. There was a closet just to his right, and over the door, in block letters, was the name 'Iris'.

He scowled back down at the baby, making another face before reaching down and picking it up. "So, you're a girl, then," he muttered, holding her at arms length. She regarded him, looking almost confused, then let out a precious little giggle that resulted in the lights flickering.

"Already doing magic, too," he murmured, eyeing the light fixture above his head and sighing. "Well then, can't just leave you here, can I?"

"Barty!" Bellatrix screamed from downstairs. "It's time to go!"

"Hold on!" He yelled back, tilting his head back so that he wouldn't scream straight in the baby's face.

He bent down to place her back in the crib, holding out a finger as if she understood what it meant. "One minute, please."

In record time, he rummaged through the closet, producing a small bag that he could stuff a couple of toys in as well as some very tiny clothes and a few cloth diapers. Barty slung it over his shoulder, then picked the infant up again, letting her rest over the left side of his chest. She settled in quite nicely, giggling once more as he walked out of the room and down the stares.

"You have got to be kidding me," Rodolphus said once Barty emerged, and Bellatrix just gawked at him. "Just what in the devil are you going to do with an infant?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, walking into the kitchen and stepping over Marjorie Fenwick's corpse in order to get to some bottles and formula. "Figure it'd be a waste to just leave her, though. The Fenwicks were Purebloods, were they not?"

The couple remained silent, and Barty flashed them a sarcastic grin, motioning to the door. "Come on, then."



The Dark Lord had taken up residence at Malfoy Manor, a beautiful mansion that had been passed down to Lucius and Narcissa on their wedding day not long ago, with peacocks roaming around the front yard. Ostentatious but impressive.

Everybody who had been out patrolling the streets that night were to report to him by three AM, and that included Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Bartemius.

"I still have no idea how you're going to explain this to him," Rodolphus mumbled as they reached the premises. Barty just shrugged his shoulders and walked through the wrought-iron gate.

The house wasn't as crowded as it was on meeting nights, but there was a fair amount of people there, all of whom looked at the junior Crouch in confusion. He said nothing, just took a seat in the family room with the baby over his shoulder. She was fast asleep, having even stayed down during the apparition, which was quite a surprise, as that was never an easy experience.

Lord Voldemort was speaking with Dolohov and Wilkes, then would likely summon Barty and the others.

It wasn't a long wait, and the young Death Eater spent the entirety of it leaning back on the couch and absentmindedly rubbing circles on the baby's back, still a little surprised at himself for taking her. He played it cool with Bellatrix and her husband, but in truth, it had just been pure impulse.

"Barty," Rodolphus' strong voice called out, and he looked up quickly. "The Dark Lord is ready for us." He nodded, ignoring the older man's doubtful smile, and followed his two partners into the vast dining room.

The pale, snake-like man sat at the end of the table, hands clasped together, and he regarded them with a sinister smile before he caught sight of what Barty was carrying.

The boy cleared his throat, taking a small step forward, and said in his most confident voice, "I can explain."

"By all means, do so," the Dark Lord gestured for him to continue.

Barty took a deep breath, shifting the baby slightly and licking his upper lip quickly (a nervous habit he had from when his father yelled at him as a child). "Well, after doing a particularly good job of torturing and killing both of those filthy blood-traitors, we were about ready to leave when we all heard a cry. I decided to investigate and found this and figured, why waste such pure blood? The Fenwicks were clean, just on the wrong side. The baby, however, hasn't been tainted."

"And, how do we know she isn't a Squib?" His mouth slanted downward at the title, as if the word was too dirty to roll off of his tongue.

"Oh, she isn't. I've already seen her perform a bit of accidental magic."

Barty figured that if Voldemort had eyebrows, he probably would have raised one at that point. Instead, he just leaned forward on the table, keeping his fingers steepled. "And, how am I to know that you aren't lying to me?"

"Why would I lie about stealing an infant?" He scoffed, clearing his throat again when he realized how disrespectful he must have sounded. Bellatrix elbowed him right in the ribs, just in case he hadn't noticed, and he kicked her ankle in response. "I mean, I wouldn't lie to you, My Lord. I'm not sure of how to prove to you that she is, in fact, magic, though."

"Lucky for you, I do have an idea." He extended a finger, curling it in a 'come hither' fashion, and the brunette swallowed hard before approaching the large chair Voldemort sat in. He held out his ivory arms, and Barty frowned before carefully handing the baby over.

Picking his wand up from where it sat on the table, he whispered a spell that made the tip glow an angry red, and Barty grit his teeth as he pressed it to the infant's neck.

She woke immediately, crying out as her small arms began to flail. Voldemort watched her closely, keeping the wand still, and the baby's face seemed to crumple more and more as it grew hotter against her skin.

The young man could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, the urge to slap his master's wand out of place taking over, but he had to do no such thing as there was a sudden shock of what looked like pink lightening, shooting straight from the newborn's chest and to Voldemort's arm.

The Dark Lord dropped the wand quickly, hissing, but he did not harm the child in his arms, just smiled.

"I believe this proves you right, Bartemius," he said, and Barty would be damned if his voice didn't sound strained. He handed the now crying infant back to him, and Barty showed a quick bow before walking down the table and joining the other two Death Eaters again.

"I suppose we may keep her. She has the potential to be a very powerful witch one day, and you're not wrong about her blood. It would be unwise to sacrifice her."

Barty had to try hard not to smile, but he felt pride rise in his chest. "You do realize what this means, though, don't you?"

"What does it mean, my Lord?"

The serpent-like man's grin widened, and he extended his arms in a gesture of presentation, then said in an amused voice, "She is your responsibility."



"Iris, hm?" Barty mumbled, almost to himself, as he stared at the tiny girl in front of him.

He was at his flat, now, which he shared with Travers who was still gone for whatever reason.

"Well, no offense, but that's a rubbish name. It's a flower, for Merlin's sake, and you don't look like the flowery type."

She just stared at him with big, green eyes, seemingly captivated by him. He poked her softly in her belly, causing her to let out that giggle, and Barty cracked a smile, glad that he still had the ability after all of the death and destruction that he had not only seen but also caused.

"I imagine you must be a little hungry."

He got up off the couch, about to walk toward the kitchenette before remembering that there was a good chance that she could roll off. He quickly turned, picking her up and placing her on the rug-covered floor. "Right, well, um, crawl around a bit, then. Go explore, or whatever it is that babies do."

He walked into the kitchen area, pulling the bottles and packets of formula from the bag he had brought with him and read the directions, looking up quite often to make sure that she wasn't trying to stick her fingers into any electrical outlets or anything.

It took only a few minutes to make, and Barty shook the bottle as he walked back over to the baby. She was still laying exactly where he put her on the rug, and he picked her up, cradling her awkwardly with one arm and putting the bottle to her small mouth.

"Three hours in, and I'm already a better father figure than my dad ever was," he muttered, bitterness tainting his voice. Still, he let out a small, scornful laugh, letting her drink to her little heart's desire as he thought to himself.

"I'm going to teach you everything you need to know about the world we live in, but we still need a name for you. Like I said before, Iris--Rubbish. We need something a little darker, a little more mysterious."

The baby spit up a bit, bubbles forming between her lips and the bottle, and Barty quickly moved her to his chest again, patting her back. "I do like the 'I', though," he mused. "Isabella's out. Everybody's named Isabella. Ingrid sounds too old. Indigo is... Just no."

He thought out loud for some time, patting her back with one hand as he held the bottle in another. "How about Isola?" She was asleep in his arms once again, but she did shift ever so slightly, causing Barty to smile and stand up. "Fine, Isola it is. Isola Crouch. Now, let's see about finding you somewhere to sleep."