The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Garden Parties

1952

The Lestrange house stood tall in the Canterbury countryside, a manor house to replace their French residence. Victoria still remembered the day they had moved in. The Malfoys had been allied with the Lestranges for generations so they had gone to greet them. At five years old, Obsidian Lestrange was scrawny and had a mass of black curly hair that nearly covered his eyes. He had been a quiet boy but Victoria soon learned that was because he didn't speak much English. She took it upon herself to teach him after that and he helped her with her French. 

Obsidian had managed to keep up his family's traditional garden parties now that he was the master of his house. House Lestrange wore pure black for their beloved crows. He stood proud next to his wife and new born son in his robes, a goblet of wine in both of their hands as he lifted his drink in a toast. 

"I want to thank you all for joining us on this joyous day." He smiled charmingly as his guest turned to give him their attention. His beard was neatly trimmed, the curls of his black hair cut short above his ears. "And I especially want to thank one man in particular for giving us his time today. My good friend. My Lord. Voldemort. In the years to come, he will be the one to put wizarding kind in our natural place in this world. Above all else. Long may he reign." 

Goblets raised about the garden in praise for their Lord. The young pureblood families toasted the future as Tom Riddle bowed his head towards his schoolmate in thanks. Many grew up on tales of Grindelwald and rise and fall. Parents, aunts, and uncles fighting against the statute of secrecy so that wizards could reign over the world. 

Tom tucked his arm around his wife as she toasted him along with the others, smiling up at him in the sunshine. Most of them had dark marks seared into their arms and it put him at ease to see them all still so enthusiastic about the future. He was more than aware of how long it was taking him to change the world into something he wanted. His frustration was their frustration. His power was their future, and their love made it all possible. 

"Tom, you're looking well." Druella Black waddled up to them, her hand stretching her back with every step but it didn't seem to be helping. She held no goblet. No wine for the wife of Cygnus Black and his unborn hoped heir. 

"Christ," Tom said, turning to see that Druella was heavily pregnant. "Another one so soon?" 

"Yes, it happens I suppose." She sighed, turning her head lazily to see if she could spot her daughter. The little mess of black curls teared across the grass at full speed, falling to her knees every few feet but always getting back up. "Mad that one, I swear it. Never does anything in halves. Hopefully this one is a little calmer." 

"We can hope." Victoria smiled, watching Bellatrix as she stained her white tights with grass and dirt. "Are you alright, Druella? Do you need to sit down?" 

“She's done it before,” Tom said, drinking from his goblet as he glanced out at the garden party. 

"I'll be alright." Druella waved her off as Victoria seemed to want to steady her but her hands never made contact. "Never have children Victoria, I'm exhausted and I don't think I'll ever get better." 

"Oh I don't know." Tom smiled, his hand squeezing Victoria's side as he rubbed his thumb over the fabric of her dress. "I don't think I'd mind a son or two running around."

Victoria took a breath. Their friends were having children, his closest allies having sons and boasting about their heirs. He wanted one too. If a son made him stronger in their eyes, then he wanted one. 

"Ugh, boys." Druella scoffed, resting her hands on the top of her stomach in an annoyed huff. "If I could choose, I'd have nothing but girls. Cygnus won't shut up 'my heir', 'my heir', fucking idiot man."