#delphini

[hprambles-blog]

I HC that when Bellatrix got pregnant with Delphi everyone was expecting her to be really good looking because both Bellatrix and Tom were very beautiful but instead she took after her paternal grandparents, the Gaunts.

🐶

[metalomagnetic]

Either must die snippet

***A dear friend asked on discord if I have some EMD writing left, so here it is.***

----

Harry hadn’t stopped screaming since he entered the kitchen; he’s furious. It’s been a long time since he exploded in such righteous anger.

Cheeks red, jaws set, and those damned eyes of his glinting. Why, it’s almost like before, back in the war. Of course, now at least he can appear somewhat intimidating, what with the size of him. He doesn’t intimidate Voldemort, but it is easy to imagine he could make a random individual cower. Voldemort would like to see Harry going off like this on some pesky journalists or one of his stalker fans. It would be entertaining.

As it is, it’s not entertaining at the moment. It irritates Voldemort to be screamed at.

One flick of his wrist, and he could silence Harry. Another flick and he can send him crashing into the wall. To resist temptation, he drums his fingers on the table, reaches inside to find patience. It’s getting harder and harder to be patient these days. He had to suffer it for a while, but now he’s back in power. A Minister, not a war lord, yet people learned not to trifle with him, not to glare at him, not to talk back.

Even Harry learned, as the years passed by. He minded his business, and he let Voldemort be. Yet it’s not worth the trouble to put him in his place, now. He can already imagine the dramatics that would follow. Harry would break again, and Voldemort will either have to lock him in an attic, never to be allowed in public, or he’d have to put in the effort to build him back up, and he certainly lacks the patience for that. Hermione would be insufferable about it. Delphini would cry.

Harry must be aware of these unpleasant outcomes, too, because while he screams, he doesn’t dare do more than that. He cries, too, tears of pain and frustration and pure despair. That improves Voldemort’s mood a tad. Harry always looks good when he’s crying. “I asked for one thing!” his voice breaks, rough. “One thing! You have everything, and I said nothing- you use me, you use my name, you- I only asked for one thing.”

What a lie. Harry might not verbally ask for much, but those pitiful eyes of his ask plenty, and Voldemort gives it to him. The ungrateful brat.

“And you couldn’t let me have it! You’re a monster!”

Show him, a voice begs, a voice that was dormant for so long, but it’s waking up lately. Show him the monster. Show him how patient you’d been with him all these years. Show him how it could have been.

Voldemort ignores it. His fingers curl around the table, momentarily, because just drumming them isn’t enough anymore, he itches for his wand, but then the crisis is avoided, and he is in control, he won’t snap. He does stand, because it’s safe to do it, his temper is in check, and Harry tired himself out with his tantrum. “You asked for her life,” Voldemort reminds him. “She is alive.” Moly Weasley lives. Thought it seems a misfortune befell her earlier that day. Well earned. Delicious revenge. Harry, sadly, is not the type to enjoy the poetic justice, the mastery in this delivery of punishment.

She lives, like he wanted, she isn’t even in pain, but the score was settled. Fleetingly, he wonders if Bella is happy, if she laughs gleefully in the afterlife. Perhaps not- Bella was never one for poetry, for subtlety. She got her vengeance in blood and screams. Harry stares at him, shaking his head. “I hate you,” he whispers. Voldemort did not want to break him, but he broke, anyway. So fragile, this boy of his, despite his impressive muscles, he shatters like glass. “Nothing new,” Voldemort replies, and walks out of the kitchen.

As soon as he reaches the garden, he feels his anger rising, now that he isn’t focused on not hurting Harry until he explodes into a pile of blood and bones. He gets angrier and angrier with every step. He feels as impotent as Harry must feel. No matter how mad the boy was, how obviously hurting, he did not even think to draw his wand at Voldemort, or punch him, like he once did. He would have- for Molly fucking Weasley, he would have. Harry has few limits, but the Weasleys are one. Harry would crash and burn with them, for them, the world be damned. He didn’t, however, because he must know, deep down, that it wasn’t Voldemort. But he can’t admit it to himself, not consciously. Voldemort is a convenient scapegoat. Voldemort is a monster, rotten and evil, and it’s easier for Harry this way. Easier than the truth.

He Apparates to Lestrange Manor, and he thinks of Bella again. How odd- he hadn’t truly thought of her in years, but now he feels her around; when he walks to Lestrange Manor, is feels like before, like when he’d walk this path and knew he’d find her and Rodolphus inside. He doesn’t, of course. He finds a copy of her, instead. Bella left him copies of herself, echoes that remain to dwell the earth in her absence. Voldemort walks past Andromeda, strolls through the Manor, until he finds Rodolphus’ copy.

Voldemort knows Rabastan is guilty as soon as he lays eyes on him. That stiff posture, the fear in his eyes, even if he keeps his chin up, defiant. “Your wand,” he snarls. Andromeda followed him, she’s frowning, confused, asking what the matter is. The matter is that Voldemort was disobeyed. “Leave,” Rabastan begs her. “Leave,” Voldemort snarls at her. Andromeda is a cheaper copy of Bella, in all senses. Tamer, sadder, broken. But wiser. She leaves.

Rabastan gives up ‘his’ wand. It’s not his, of course, just like Voldemort suspected. He knew, as Harry was screeching, as Voldemort sat there trying not to snap, he was thinking how all this could have been accomplished. Delphini is at Hogwarts, after all. Impossible for her to also be at the Burrow. Unless she Apparated there. But she wouldn’t risk doing all that with her wand. It became quite obvious who would have given her a wand. “It had to be done,” Rabastan dares to speak. “You moved on, but I can’t; not until justice was served. You moved on, but Delphi couldn’t.” Delphini is a far better copy of Bella, compared to Andromeda. But, as Voldemort feared- you do not fear!- as Voldemort suspected, she is no true copy of her mother. Oh, she’s her spitting image, she has some Black traits in her personality, but no- Delphi is his copy. The anger reaches its peak. Voldemort always treasured Rabastan over most others, awarded him more leeway than most others. But Rabastan is no Harry, he’s no Delphini, and Voldemort snaps.

He reminds Rabastan who he serves, whose mark is on his arm. Useless, of course. Rabastan was never one to cow for pain, nor learn from it. Yet his pain serves to soothe some of Voldemort’s anger, lets him take it out on him. Another convenient scapegoat.

(-)

She does walk like Bella, a confident, defiant tilt to her hips. She walks loudly, proudly, as if used to have others look at her in awe, covet her. She brought her heels, even if the path to the Forbidden Forest is not exactly best suited for heels. Whenever she angers him, she knows to make herself look even more like her mother.

Once, when he searched her mind, he saw Rodolphus teaching her this, on the night before he left her at Rowle’s. “It’s best if you look like her,” he told her, advising her to let her hair free, to wear the dresses Bella favoured. “He treasured her above all others, and, in time, I hope he’ll treasure you, too.” She doesn’t stop at a respectable distance, like Bella would have done when she knew she messed up, when she angered him. No. Delphini comes close, closer than anyone dares.

She’s taller than Bella already, and the heels almost bring her up to his chin. She looks up, and those are his eyes, that is his glare, his defiance, his stubbornness. “What potion did you give her?” “My own invention,” Delphini says, and pride flushes stronger on her face. “They won’t detect it.” “And if they do, then what is the problem, no?” Voldemort asks. “Who is going to suspect a perfect school girl? And if they do suspect her, who is going to blame the Minister’s daughter? Who would dare arrest her?” Delphini shrugs.

“If you plan on using my influence to stay out of trouble, if you know you can easily fall back on me to protect you, then you should discuss things with me before you do them.” “Why bother,” she spits. “You would have said ‘no’. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” He should have tortured Rabastan more, because not all the anger is out of his system. Furry comes back hot, coursing through his veins, going to his head. “Ask for forgiveness, then,” he hisses, and he takes the step that separated them, towers over her. If she wants to play these games, he’ll play them. She will lose. It’s time for her to learn to lose- Harry spoiled her, far too much. He ignored Voldemort’s warnings that Delphini shouldn’t get away with everything she does, that he should push back, whenever she tests them.

As always, Harry’s kind, tolerant heart, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Delphini doesn’t cower, not truly, but he can detect the current of fear that passes through her. Strangely, it does nothing to improve his mood. Terrifying people usually soothes his fury, but now it just taints it with an unknowable feeling. “I thought you loved Harry,” he says, softly.

“I do!” Her fingers curl into fists at her side. Her neck is bent back uncomfortably, trying to keep Voldemort’s gaze. “She’s alive, isn’t she? Like he asked. She loves Harry, didn’t forget him, and she’ll no doubt dote over him, like a mother. In fact, now that she only remembers loving him, she’ll love him even more! I took nothing from Harry! He can have his pretend mummy! I only took away the memories of all her living children! It’s only fair!”

Delphini’s voice gets louder. Defensive. “She stole my mother from me! So it’s only fair she forgets all the beautiful memories she has with her children, memories she didn’t let me form with my mother. It’s only fair she will only remember her dead son, like I have to remember my dead mother, every time I step foot into the Great Hall, where that harpy took her from me. From us! You lost her, too! And now Molly Weasley cannot remember her husband, either! It’s fair, it is!”

It is beautiful, he agrees. It is poetic and it is just. It is perfect. However.

“You knew he’ll blame me for it; you understand he’s devastated; you understand how he’ll avoid me now, how he’ll suffer, how he’ll moan and whine at me for months on end, start drinking again, retreat into his spare bedroom and rot there for who knows how long. You are perfectly aware Hermione will blame me, too. That it could potentially harm my work. You knew this would affect me. And you did it anyway.” He cups Delphini’s face, and she finally flinches, though she doesn’t draw back.

So beautiful, this child. So intelligent. She loves Voldemort, understands him like no other. His perfect girl. If Voldemort would have ever wanted a daughter, if he’d have been given the chance to make her, build her from scratch- this is what he’d have imagined. Only, he still wishes she would have been more like Bella, or Rodolphus, or Harry; it would have been easier. For him, and for her. Alas, she is not like them. She is like him.

“She deserves it,” Delphini insists. “She hurt me!” Ever her tears are perfect, pretty shapes, clear, trailing down her cheeks. “That never works with me, Delphini,” he reminds her, using his thumb to brush one tear away. “I know!” she hisses. “Nothing works with you! That’s why I didn’t ask! Because you give Harry everything he asks, you are so attentive to provide him with what he needs, but you never care about what I want. What I need. I asked you to punish her, you promised me, remember? When I first met Ron. You promised me! But then Harry asked you to spare her, and you did what he wanted. You forgot about me, about my pain-“

“Shut up,” he says, softly. “I allow you far more than I would anyone else. Harry is my prisoner, he does only what I allow him to do, even if he deluded himself into thinking otherwise. I give you freedom. I don’t make decisions for you. I accept you as you are. But-“ he takes his hand away. “Do not trespass against me, Delphini,” he warns her. “If you want to hurt others, don’t use your mother as an excuse to do it. More importantly, don’t hurt people that are useful to me. Ask before you pull something like this again. And when I say ‘no’, better heed it. Or leave. Go far away, and make trouble there. This is my country, and nothing happens inside it without my say so. I worked for sixty years to subdue this island. If you want that kind of power, you will have to work for it, too.”

[drawinggoose]

Some Slytherins from HP, some old Beladonna and Lady D from RE... Nothing fancy.

[fugamalefica]

I find it hilarious how almost every single argument against Delphini is made up with no textual evidence.

1. Voldemort didn't have a penis.

Says who?

2. Bellatrix was infertile due to Azkaban/Voldemort was infertile due to his Horcruxes.

The books imply no such things. Witches and wizards don't have the same biology as Muggles.

3. Voldemort wouldn't want an heir.

That's just your assumption. I agree he didn't want children, but sadly things don't always go according to our plans. She was likely an accident. Accidental babies are a common motif in JKR's writing.

4. Voldemort was asexual.

Did he tell you that himself? I didn't know you were chums.

5. Voldemort couldn't love.

Yes, and? What is love anyway?

6. Bellatrix was married.

Cheating exists and Rodolphus was her loyal husband according to Delphini herself. Even if he objected to it, there wasn't much he could have done about it.

7. The pregnancy doesn't fit the timeline.

It does. If Delphi was conceived the night Dumbledore died, Bellatrix could easily have given birth to her without the trio knowing. In the nine months following that, she only appeared in the Battle of the Seven Potters and she would have been just one month along then.

[motherfuckingmaneater]

“For Voldemort and for valour!” Cried the Augury, their beloved herald of death, to the thousands. Each returned her cry, each following her chant, entirely enraptured by her, “for Voldemort and for valour!”

[augureysfeather]

Dear HP fandom,

let’s talk about an orphan…

Whose parents were killed while they were a baby

Whose parents were killed by their greatest enemy/enemies, who opposed their views of the world greatly

Who had no more living relatives but aunt(s) and a cousin

Who grew up in an abusive household

Who was adopted by someone who really couldn’t care less about their wellbeing

Whose caretaker(s) were forced by outside circumstances to take care of them

Who, for the longest, did not know about their significant parentage

Who had a lot of expectations placed on them for said parentage

Who was told - when they were older - about a significant trait of themselves by strangers

Who was connected to a prophecy

Who was possessed of an ancient magic, a magic associated with the dark (Parseltongue)

Who longed painfully for a parental figure, but did not have the best of luck with those presenting themselves as potential replacement parents

Who formed a meaningful relationship with a winged animal

…dear HP fandom…am I talking about Harry Potter…

...or Delphi?

[poetryandbloods-blog]

Delphi

[hp-confessions]

I think that Walburga and Tom Riddle were romantically and sexually involved during their Years at Hogwarts. Which is why Tom named his First Version of the Death Eaters the Knights of Walpurgis. Her Knights because she was supposed to be his Queen. But Walburga in the end broke up with him because she didn’t want to be married with a Half-Blood and cuz her Relationship with Tom was known she was already sorta defamed among Purebloods and thus could only marry her Cousin Orion.

She would probably also have hated Delphini if she had met her because she would be the living Proof of what she could have had and that ultimately she failed at everything in Life.

She chose her Family and the Pureblood Dogma over the Love of her Life and in turn she only got trapped in a Loveless Marriage with her own Cousin, whom she never loved as much as Tom, a Son who despite being talented spitted on everything she believed in and another who despite sharing her views simply couldn’t live up to her expectations.

All the while she would have to watch her own Niece living the Life that could have been hers because she loved Voldemort/Tom more than anything even her own Family and literally turned her back on her Pureblood Husband to be with him. Now Walburga would have had to watch as her Niece has a perfect little dark princess and is truly happy with the Man who Walburga actually loves and has an extremely talented daughter who is a perfect mix between Tom’s Beauty and Bellatrix’s and an Heiress of Slytherin and Grindelwald.

(I read somewhere that Druella could be Gellert and Vinda’s Daughter and since she was born in the 30s it’s not too far off given how close Vinda and Gellert seem.)

And Bellatrix gained that by truly loving and accepting Tom/Voldemort for who he is instead of what he could be and being brave enough to throw her Family aside for him. That would definitely have broken Walburga down completely and filled her with Jealousy beyond belief.

~

[star-named-riddle]

Day 21 - Sage

Bellatrix pulled her daughter close to her chest, not caring about the blood that would inevitably stain her skin and clothes.

She dried her daughter's head with her nightgown, smiling at the soft black curls.

Her sister offered her arms, holding a warm towel with which to wrap her child. Bella took the towel and kept her child. The warm cloth smelled of white sage. Narcissa had been diligent about burning it throughout her labour because of some old wives tale she didn't bother listening to. Something about calming the mother and protecting the child. Bella had scoffed. Her daughter had all the protection she could ever need.

The pair of red eyes that spied them from the shadows by the door gave her all the assurance she needed.

Nothing would happen to her precious child. Nothing her Master did not deem so would come to pass.

The preternaturally still figure waited while Narcissa pulled bedsheets and covers from the bottom of the bed up to Bella’s waist, trying to preserve some form of modesty. The Healer, half in awe and half in terror, dutifully checked the health of both mother and daughter with two swift flicks of her wand.

Both witches were quick to retreat then, knowing they would be summoned later to tend to Bellatrix and her child, but that for now they had to be content with the bare minimum.

The Dark Lord was waiting to meet his heir.

Bellatrix kept her eyes on her daughter’s features, committing them to memory as her fingers both traced and caressed them.

The little girl had quieted, snug against her mother’s chest, lulled by the familiar heartbeat.

Only when Lord Voldemort’s shadow covered the both of them did she raise her eyes to him. He was bending over the two of them, a hand on her shoulder, light and soft, his thumb caressing the curve where her shoulder and her neck met.

“Well done, Bella,” he said, barely above a whisper, something akin to wonder in his face.

He caressed his daughter’s forehead with his thumb, careful not to touch her skin with his claw like nail, hissing to her.

The baby in Bella’s arms turned her head towards the sound, her eyes opening. Bella found them to be dark, like her Master’s had been in his youth, though the shape of them was hers. She blinked at her father, then turned her face back to her mother’s skin, searching.

“I think she’s hungry, my Lord.”

Lord Voldemort hummed his agreement. A louder hiss sounded in the room, one coming from the floor. Lord Voldemort replied to it, just before a pair of golden eyes emerged into Bella’s field of vision. Nagini’s forked tongue displaced a few still wet curls on the baby’s head, not that the little girl seemed to mind.

She did open her eyes again, and Bella stared, her mouth agape, as her dark eyes turned first to grey, like hers, then red, like her father’s.

“I’d say she’s earned her meal, Bella,” Lord Voldemort said, smiling at the display. “And you should rest. I’ll order Narcissa and the Healer back in.” He kissed the crown of Bellatrix’s head, a tenderness he had not shown her since the gone times of the First War.

She leaned into it, daring to turn her face up to him, her free hand moving of its own volition to caress his jaw. Neither cared for the blood on her fingertips.

Lord Voldemort kissed her squarely on the lips, utterly taken by the sight of her with his child in her arms.

He stood up and turned away quickly then, hissing a command to Nagini, who clearly begrudged being made to leave.

Narcissa returned at his command, and smiled discreetly at the image of Bellatrix nursing her daughter. Bella looked into her eyes and smiled openly. Neither had expected her to be a natural at this, both refusing to admit it.

“Where’s the Healer?”

“Coming, Bella. Is something wrong?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t worry about her. I was told to keep her in the next room once her work here is done,” Narcissa said, her voice even and unworried.

Bellatrix knew it meant the Healer’s memory of all this would be erased, and replaced with something suitable to justify her absence. She was one of them, an ally to the cause, her skills useful, but young and untested. Lord Voldemort would not allow her to keep any notion of his heir, or why Bellatrix had been away from the battlefield for so long.

From the door, he nodded to her. Then left, Nagini’s coils following in his heels.

Bellatrix followed Lord Voldemort’s shadow as he moved away, noticing how the tang of iron and the smell of smoke and ozone he carried everywhere, underneath the sandalwood he wore, were slowly overpowered by the white sage again.

Also on AO3

[mrsnerdygirl]

I think a lot about Voldemort being a girl dad. Au where he is alive and Delphi grown:

Calls her Delphi because nicknames are his thing and shortening names is his way of showing affection.

Another love language is giving. When his daughter wanted something he would give it to her (she is not spoiled, Voldemort is actually strict but also knows how to provide her with her wishes).

Therefore, he does allow her to hug him (Delphi loves hugging her dad). It is always a waist hug, since she was younger. Voldemort just holds her waist gently not saying much. Sometimes he will touch her hair or head.

He may not realise this but he really enjoys human touch. When he is in a good mood he will play with her hair or touch her cheek (sth he did with Bellatrix too).

This happens rarely, but it has happened. He will sit by the fire place with Delphini and she will sit on the floor, her head on his lap.

Oh, and they study together, do research, make potions and read. Quality time !

[leaelakey]

Delphini could have been conceived in a number of ways:

1. Through a ritual, Voldemort made Rodolphus and Bellatrix fertile as a reward. Rodolphus then lied to Delphini about her heritage because he believed she was mostly Voldemort’s child, since her existence was only possible thanks to Voldemort. He lied to honor Voldemort and also because he felt undeserving of being called her father. And also because he knew Bellatrix would want her daughter to think she was the child of one of the "greatest" wizards alive and her master at the same time.

2. Using a ritual, Voldemort magically granted Bellatrix a portion of his dna.

3. Through Bellatrix and Rodolphus, but Roddy lied for whatever reason.

4. Bellatrix and Voldemort had sex.

Which means Bellamort is not canon, only fanon speculation. You can pick and choose what you like - I pick the first.

Delphini is a Lestrange, and I think her not being Voldemort’s daughter - only believing she is - is so symbolic and connects her to her mother so much. I like this theory the most. Her life being centered around Voldemort, just like her parents' were is perfect.

[wookiecookiesfactory]

What is Meropes opinion on Belatrix? If Belatrix has a huge crush on her son Tom?

HI! Such an interesting question!

In my AU where Merope survives, Tom would be around 40 to make their relationship not totally creepy (remember in this AU voldemort is suppoused to end up as a somewhat decent guy) At first she might think Bella is sort of an odd young girl (but she gets its, her son is handsome and intelligent, after all) and Merope can tell she is really fancy, even more so Cecilia was, which she doesnt like all that much (she ships her son with either hagrid/myrtle LMAO)but she doesnt hate bellatrix and Bella seems so enthusiastic and devoted to Tom that I think Merope would eventually like her.

Bellatrix however LOVES Merope from the get go (and she is oblivious to merope initial apprehension) Bella likes her as much as she would anything Tom related, but fr she thinks that old lady is genuinely adorbs (merope is in her 60 by this point)

If they met in the afterlife Merope would just ask bomb her about her grand daugther (delphini is canon when I want her to be)

[lunar-skylar]

Gosh, I know this is like…unpopular or whatever, but I actually quite like Delphini. The way she, Voldemort, and Harry parallel each other keeps me up at night. Like, I love it so much. To me, they’re a family—a very distant, very strange, very cursed family, but still. I just know Bellatrix is rolling in her grave at the realization that not only was her man obsessed with and fixated on Harry (a Potter), but her daughter was too. She’s so done with that family (#Potterphobic), and I can't even blame her, LMAOOO 😭

[drawinggoose]

IT'S DELPHI! 😁

My small contribution to Bellamortfest. An almost traumatic reveal for Voldy.

[fugamalefica]

Foreshadowing of Delphi in Spinner's End?

What Bella says, often casually, always ends up happening. In the Department of Mysteries, she talked about Voldemort coming to the Ministry and it happened. When she thought the Cup was stolen missing she said they'd all perish if Voldemort found out, and when he did he killed everyone in sight. She was the only one who said Snape was a traitor and she was right.

“You should be proud!” said Bellatrix ruthlessly. “If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!”

Here she is talking about her hypothetical children rather casually, just as she casually dismissed the notion of Voldemort coming to the Ministry. Knowing what we do about Delphi now, this can be read as foreshadowing her birth.

Credits to @waterloobridge for pointing this out. Great catch!

[motherfuckingmaneater]

Filled with father’s poison, blessed with mother’s beauty & rage.