Chapter Text
Thaddeus Nott couldn’t let go of his wife’s hand, not even after she had taken her last breath, and the sound of his twins’ wailing filled the room. Her healers work silently, wiping the blood and sweat off her body before draping a blanket over her. Thaddeus inhales deeply, bringing Helena’s hand to his lips, a light kiss brushing against her knuckles before he tucks her hand over the cover.
He clears his throat, gets to his feet, and turns his attention to the twins lying in their bassinette. Their little hands are clasped together, their chests rising and falling softly as their shared warmth comforts them into a deep slumber.
“Rest easy, my love, I will take it from here,” he says as the door shuts softly behind the final healer, leaving him for the first time alone with his newborn children. The hairs on his arms go stiff as a chill runs down his spine, fear and worry digging through his subconscious, and a buzz fills his ears, only for everything to fall silent when his daughter sighs in her sleep. He brushes a finger across his daughter’s cheek, promising himself that he would do everything and anything to keep her safe. Her little eyes crack open, blinking slowly before meeting his. She coos softly, as if realizing who he is, reaching out to him as her brother stirs slightly beside her.
“Hello, little love,” He cups her face, fresh tears forming in his eyes when she tucks into his touch. His son watches closely, following his every move as Thaddeus carefully brings his daughter into his arms. He cradles her close as his wife’s house elf pops into the room.
Tilly places a bottle on the table beside him, turning to the little boy with a second bottle levitating just beside her as she silently waits for permission to feed the boy. The Nott patriarch nods, taking the bottle for his daughter and bringing it to her lips. She takes it eagerly, her eyes falling shut as he takes a seat in the rocking chair his wife had picked out towards the end of pregnancy.
“Master, did Mistress suffer?” Tilly’s voice cracks, her hands gripping the blanket around his son while he feeds silently. Thaddeus sighs, brushing the little girl’s face as she slowly falls back to sleep.
“No, Tilly. She saw the babies and simply went to sleep.” The young house elf sniffles, nodding slightly before placing his son back in the bassinette. The little boy reaches out. His face scrunches as he searches unconsciously for his twin. With a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, he places her beside him, watching in awe as the twins settle quickly, holding each other, unaware of the death of their mother.
Tilly bows, popping out of the room as the wards signal someone stepping through the iron gates. These days, with whispers and rumors, few people had permission to enter his home, especially with the rise of the Dark Lord drawing near.
He glances back at the empty bed. While feeding the babies, his elf, Tomas, had taken Helena out to prep her body for burial. The room smelled of death, and once he handled whoever dared to interrupt his time in mourning, he would be moving his children into the nursery close to his room.
With the room warded, only allowing access to him and the elves, he tries and fails to calm the anger brewing just below the surface as Lucius Malfoy stands at the bottom of his stairs.
“Thad, I am so sorry. I can’t imagine what you are going through.” Lucius’s hands shook slightly by his side, his eyes glued to the floor as Thaddeus reached the bottom stair.
“No, you can’t. Why are you here, Luc?” The Malfoy heir clears his throat, his hands shaking more as he pulls his sleeve back. Thaddeus inhales sharply, his eyes widening at the sight of skull and snake on his best friend’s forearm.
“He is marking his followers. Dobby heard about Helena and popped in during the ceremony. He said he would give you time to grieve but expects you to answer the call, sooner rather than later.” Lucius’s voice falters, getting caught in his throat as he grips his wrist.
There is a faint cry that catches their attention, causing both wizards to freeze before Thaddeus breaks into a sprint up the stairs. Lucius follows close behind, his wand at the ready as the wards are dropped and they enter the room.
“If you do not wish to die a painful and slow death, you will unhand my daughter,” Thaddeus growls out, his magic sparking at the tips of his fingers as he stares at the cloaked figure standing over his screaming son, his daughter tucked into the crook of their arm. The stranger doesn’t speak; their face is hidden behind the darkness of their cloak, and before Thaddeus can move, a wand is pressed into his daughter’s side. The little girl sleeps soundly, a small ward around her to block out the sounds, unaware of the danger, as his son cries out for his sister.
Tilly is not moving, her blood soaking the carpet as the stranger’s wand twitches slightly. Thaddeus could feel his magic threatening to burst forward as Lucius kept his wand trained on the intruder.
There is a second of silence before the wards surrounding the Nott Manor drop completely, bringing Thaddeus to his knees as the stranger disappears from sight. He lets out a guttural scream, his magic cracking the windows as his son's screams increase. Lucius throws a shield around the bassinette before the windows burst out, spraying the room with glass as the wizard sobbed uncontrollably.
In a matter of hours, he had become a widower, a father, and now one of his children was stolen from his home. Bile rose to the back of his throat, his stomach emptying onto the carpet as he crawled over to Tilly. He turned her body over, sobbing loudly as he stared down at the fear frozen on her face.
This was how the stranger had gained access to the room. They must have timed it when Lucius stepped through the wards, and he didn’t even want to think what they had done to the poor elf to get close enough to the babies to steal one away. His son’s cries break him out of his trance, jerking him to his feet as Lucius steps back.
He watched silently as his friend scooped up his son, holding him tightly to his chest as father and son sobbed. He thought for a second about how he would fare if someone had stolen his son from the safety of his room, selfishly and guiltily thanking Merlin that Narcissa was not due for a few more months.
“Tomas,” Lucius says, calling for the older elf as Thaddeus drops to his knees, his hold on his son tightening before a pop rings out—the elf, covered in blood, bows, tears staining his face as his shoulders shake.
“Young Master Lucius, the bad person, killed them. They did not find Tomas, but they killed my children. Tomas tried to get to Tilly, but dirty magic kept me away. My poor young masters and my little mistress, what is Tomas to do?”
“Calm yourself, Tomas. Your Master needs you to stay strong. Can you feel your mistress?” The elf sniffles, shaking his head hard enough to slap his ears against his face.
“It is faint, but it is slowly fading. Tomas cannot go to her.” Thaddeus takes a deep breath, rising to his feet, rubbing his son’s back before reaching out to his elf.
Lucius watches the silent exchange, holding his tongue as the elf pops out of the room after a quick nod from his master. Thaddeus kisses the top of his son’s head, sniffling before turning to his friend.
“I can’t leave my son, not after everything.” Lucius nods, understanding immediately what is being asked of him.
“Look for my owl,” he says, leaving the father and son, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
It didn’t take long for the story of the Nott heiress, stolen from her family hours after her birth, to run rapidly through the magical world. With rumors surrounding her disappearance, Thaddeus Nott fell into a deep depression, only weeks later to come crawling through the floo, his arm burning from the brand given to him by the so-called Dark Lord.
Riddle had lost his damn mind. Surely, whatever plans he had, he could do without him, but no, the giant ass had no sympathy for the Notts and called upon the patriarch to join his ranks or suffer.
Tomas, dealing with his own grief, had been Thaddeus’s rock and support system, helping with Theodore in his absence. His father would surely be ashamed of him, rolling in his grave, if he could see his heir now, pleading with an elf in a manner disgraceful to the Nott name.
Days turned into months, and soon it had been over a year since the death of his wife and his daughter’s abduction. He stood outside Malfoy Manor, his wand at the ready as he joined Lucius at the front steps. Narcissa, still dressed in impeccable robes, even at a late hour, stood just inside, worry and fear stretched over her face.
“What happened?” She asks, taking her husband’s hand as he steps to her side. He pulls her in tightly, kissing her temple as Thaddeus pockets his wand.
“James and Lily Potter are dead. The Dark Lord tried to kill the boy, but something went wrong, and the spell backfired. He is gone,” Lucius says, his hand still shaking by his side. They had stood outside the Potter home, watching the flashes of green, only to stick to the shadows when Severus Snape appeared moments later, his sobs for the muggleborn witch trickling out into the street.
The Aurors arrived along with members of the Order, and in all the confusion, they had been able to slip away under the cover of night. That is only after learning of Tom Riddle's fall, his body turning to ash, and leaving barely one-year-old Harry Potter with only a single lightning bolt scar.
Narcissa glances up, her eyes filled with sadness for the innocent boy, ignoring the glances of her husband and his friend.
“He is really gone?”
“From what we can tell, yes. The Mark doesn’t hurt anymore, and it is fading already,” Thaddeus answers, nodding when Dobby and Tomas pop into the room with a still sleeping Theo wrapped up tightly for their journey back home. Narcissa looks relieved, but the older wizard knew better. He knew Riddle, and he had a feeling that this wasn’t the last they had seen of him.
“I think it is best if we lie low. I will send word through Tomas if the Aurors come sniffing around.” Lucius places a hand on his shoulder, nodding before the Notts return home through the floo. The Manor feels cold as Thaddeus, Tomas, and Theo step out of the floo. The young boy grumbles, his arms tightening around Tomas’s neck, his eyes cracking open slightly as Thaddeus pockets his wand.
“I’ll put him down tonight, thank you, Tomas.” The elf bows after handing off his young master, popping out of the room. He takes a moment to take a deep breath, a sigh of relief as his son curls deeper into his hold. Theo, much like his mother, showed his affections through touch. While Thaddeus had been taught that handholding and hugging your family is beneath you, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny the one thing his son longed for. He knew that Theo knew something was missing.
He walks slowly, humming his mother’s lullaby softly as he heads up the stairs. Just like most nights, as he is putting the little boy to bed, he thinks about his daughter.
Is she alive?
Is she happy?
Does she look like him or Helena?
Does she even know that she is from the world of magic?
There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn't think back to that day. There had been no magical signature, no clues, not even after Aurors swept through the Manor; there had been no leads on who kidnapped his daughter. Aurors who had one sneered and cursed him looked at him with pity and sadness, apologizing before leaving him to drown in his grief.
He never stopped looking after that night. He called in every favor, reached out to every contact in every country, looking high and low for his little love. It didn’t take long to figure out that whoever took her had probably taken her into the Muggle world.
They probably thought he wouldn’t dare step foot into such a filthy world, being a “blood purist” and all, but after transferring some galleons into Muggle money and a few changes to his appearance, he stepped into a world he knew only from the horror stories he had been told by his father. His first reaction was shock. He knew that muggles were crafty and had some intelligence, but the buildings, bridges, and technological advances he saw completely changed his view of them.
Three weeks going back and forth between the two worlds, he found his rage growing with each lead turning cold and the hope for finding his daughter dimming. In one fit of anger, he got into a fight with some Muggles outside of a shifty bar on the outskirts of London, resulting in him spending a few hours locked in a Muggle cell.
Lucius thought it was hilarious when he came to get his son a few hours later, smelling of piss and cheap booze. Only to fall silent with his taunts when Thaddeus dropped to the floor. His sobs reverberated off the walls. The search for his daughter would need to be shelved for the time being, now that his ‘Master’ was starting his war.
Theo’s soft cry pulls Thaddeus out of his thoughts, his mind clearing as he leans over the crib, cupping his son’s face. The boy’s face relaxed instantly, his whole body turning into his father’s touch.
“I will find her, you have my word, Theodore. I will not stop until you are reunited with your sister again.” There is a small smile on his son’s face, bringing the tears to the corner of his eyes again, before the door of his son’s bedroom shuts softly behind him.
Now, with the Dark Lord ‘gone’, he needed a plan. The Mark on his forearm could possibly damn him, but he had formed allies in the Ministry, and a few rumors placed here and there of the use of the Imperius Curse should keep him from being shackled and carted off to Azkaban.
For now, all he could do was try to sleep.
The end of the War could wait till tomorrow.