A/N: I'm picking this story back up and currently editing it. I'm hoping to pick up updates again soon.

Status: Edited

September 13th, 1979

A scream tore through the large, dark home. It was a sound the house hadn't heard in many, many years. Over two decades in fact. It was the sound of a woman giving birth. Druella Black was well into her fifties, nearing on sixty, and having another child to raise hadn't been something she saw herself doing again.

Cygnus Black on the other hand was the picture of calm on the outside. He had gone through this three times previous, he had mastered the calm facade of an expecting father. Inside however, he was worried. The birth of Narcissa hadn't been easy on his wife, nearly costing her her life, it was why they decided against trying again for a son. Would one mistake cost him his wife?

The medi-witches worked diligently, like a well trained quidditch team. Chasers tossing the quaffle to one another like they had been doing it for years. Hours had passed since their arrival, hours of touch and go, screams and cries. Finally, the newest Black made her arrival.

"Le-Let me see her." The frail, exhausted voice of Druella cut through the medi-witches muttering. A pink bundle was passed into her arms, tiny so tiny. A smile crossed the normally stern witch's face. "Hello sweetest dove. My Hermione." A finger trailed down the flushed newborn's cheek.

Cygnus Black entered the room, catching his wife's last sentence. "Hermione. I like it, Dru. Hermione Astra Black."

September 30th, 1979

Hermione Black proved to be an amazing newborn. She barely cried, preferring to sleep or observe. Seventeen days old and she only woke up twice during the night. Druella and Cygnus swore she was the most well behaved of their daughters. It was 3am when the newborn woke up crying. Tiny arms waved in the air as she wailed. Yet no one came.

Just across the hall, the elderly Black's woke up to their upset child. Druella, whom was still recovering from giving birth, sat up and gave a small scream of shock and fear. Cygnus looked over, eyes widening in disbelief. A green light filled the room not once, but twice.

The murderer made quick work of crossing the hall and looking down at the child. The killer couldn't help but wonder what the child could have been like if she had been raised by her parents. Would Hermione have been like independent Andromeda, disowned for following her heart, or would she have become like violent Bellatrix the prime example of the famed Black madness, or like dutiful Narcissa who always did what she was told. Silently, the now kidnapper, decided that it wouldn't matter. It was to late anyway and the child was better off for it.

BFV

It was twelve hours later that Narcissa found the house eerily quiet. A sense of dread filled the woman's gut as she pulled out her wand and made her way up the stairs silently. It was rare that you couldn't find her parents in the sitting room at this time, especially since her little sister was born. Something was wrong.

Nothing looked out of place. Not even a speck of dust was somewhere it shouldn't. Narcissa pushed open the door of the master suite, the creaking echoing through the silent house. A horrifying sight met the second youngest Black sister. Her mother in a half-seated position, slumped over to the side. Her father obviously had tried to get out of bed and had been struck down before he could even take a step. Cygnus Black laid sprawled on the floor, head resting against the bedside table.

Narcissa stood there in silent terror before she remembered something important.

"Hermione!"

She turned on her heel and bolted into the pink nursery. The twenty-one year old clutched her chest when an empty crib was all that came into view. Tears blinded her vision as she leaned against the door frame. Hermione, her baby sister, gone while their parents lie dead in the room across the hall. Who could have done this? And why? Where their enemies really that great?

BFV

"Bella! Bella, come quick!"

A distressed blonde ran into her sisters Manor. The usually pristine woman looked obviously frazzled. A house-elf followed behind her trying to take her coat.

"Hermione! She's missing!"

Bellatrix was notorious for being cold, cruel, and uncaring. But her baby sister meant the world to her. Those three words sent cold daggers into her heart. A light-headed feeling nearly took the dangerous woman off her feet.

"Missing? What do you mean missing, Cissa?" Bella demanded, the fury building in her dark eyes. "Where is mother and father? Surely they wouldn't have let anything happen?"

"Dead. Whomever took Hermione killed them. I found them in their room, Hermione's was empty, not a thing out of place." Narcissa fought back the sob that rose in her chest. She watched as her sister paced like a caged animal, thinking. Who could have done this? The Dark Lord wouldn't for he had nothing to gain, and the light would never stoop so low. Right? Thoughts swirled through the eldest Black sisters head, mind jumbled and a mess.

"We'll find her, Cissa. I swear, we will find Hermione." Bella vowed, fingering her wand ready to curse the one who harmed her family. The dark witch turned on her heel and marched farther into her home that she shared with her husband and his younger brother. She wasn't sure what she planned, but she needed to do something. She despised the feeling of being useless and she was no good to anyone angry right now. Being angry meant being irrational, and it would make getting her sister back near impossible. A mindset that proved difficult for Bellatrix to keep, anger and frustration came naturally to her, and she always tended to act on it.

The library was the first place that came to mind. Maybe there was a spell that could help them track Hermione without using her blood. Maybe hers or Narcissa's could be used in substitution. She'll have to look. Maybe Rod will know, he does love to read after all.

"Roddy! Are you in here?" She didn't pause as she went immediately to the seating area by the fireplace knowing that if her husband was in here, that's where he'd be. And he was. Rodolphus Lestrange was no stranger to his wife's bad moods, but never once had she been so calm when so obviously angry.

"Bella. Love, what's wrong?" Apprehension laced his words as he made a move to rise from his seat. Abandoning his book, he didn't even bother to mark his place as he set it down in the table as he started walking towards the Black sisters. His stride was that of a skittish animal, ready to run should his wife start throwing curses and hexes around, careful and deliberate.

"Do you know any tracking spells or rites or anything that can use a siblings blood?"