A somewhat dazed Bellatrix Lestrange turned her head and looked at Regulus Black.
After a long moment, she recognized her brother. She was extremely weak from childbirth.
"What time is it now?"
Bellatrix Lestrange twitched her fingers slightly and gave Regulus Black a blissful smile.
Of course, Regulus knew she wasn't asking about the time, but rather the date—or more precisely, the month.
The Black family had a tradition of naming their children based on the brightest star visible at the time of birth.
"It's September now. The brightest star in the sky is Jupiter."
Regulus had already guessed on his way there that Bellatrix wouldn't register the child under the Lestrange family. After all, the child shared no blood relation with her husband's line.
"Jupiter Black. I hope you'll take good care of her."
Bellatrix felt the movement in her womb again. The waves of pain became so intense that she could no longer speak.
"Don't worry. I'll take good care of her. Jupiter Black will be my adopted daughter."
Regulus Black squeezed her hand tightly once more. Then, the cry of a newborn rang out—the child was finally born.
The physicians in the room swiftly cleaned the baby and prepared to show her to Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Rest in peace, Bellatrix. You've done enough for the Black family."
Regulus Black gently closed her eyelids. Just as the curse had foretold—you shall not witness the birth of your child—a cruel and vile curse. Yet only through it could this child be born.
From that moment on, Bellatrix Lestrange had nothing more to do with the Dark Lord. There would be no future prison break, no further acts of cruelty. Sirius would not die at her hands. All of those sins would no longer be hers to bear.
Regulus turned toward the physician holding the baby, who was looking at him in stunned silence.
"We need to run a few necessary tests on the child,"
an older healer came forward and informed Regulus Black in a tone that brooked no refusal.
"Alright. I'll wait outside."
Regulus released her hand and left the ward. He knew Bellatrix Lestrange's body would be thoroughly examined, and the newborn Jupiter would undergo multiple tests—but they would find nothing. Everything would appear normal.
His Conception Curse only activated at the moment of conception. There was no way to detect anything during the pregnancy—how could they possibly find anything after the child was born?
The entire time Regulus was in the room, he had been under constant surveillance. They had been watching to see what spell he might use or what tricks he might pull. But all he did was hold the mother's hand and discuss the child's name.
This greatly disappointed Minister Fudge, and even after repeated examinations, the healers at St. Mungo's found no issues with the baby.
At last, after several hours, the ward door opened. A female healer walked out holding the child, while Bellatrix Lestrange's body was wheeled out on a hospital bed.
"You can take them now. My condolences."
Minister Fudge appeared more grief-stricken than Regulus Black himself—as though it were his own wife who had died. And understandably so—if the cause of death remained unknown, then the blame would continue to fall on Azkaban's guards, which meant the Ministry of Magic would bear that burden too.
Taking the baby in his arms, Regulus Black waved his wand to conjure a coffin. He gently laid Bellatrix Lestrange's body inside and, using a Levitation Charm, floated the coffin out of the Ministry.
Watching Regulus Black leave in such a dramatic fashion, Minister Fudge felt he was being silently protested against. Though Regulus had said nothing, his silence was more damning than any words. So many people had witnessed the coffin floating down the corridor.
"Fudge, I still believe in your Ministry of Magic… and in the Aurors guarding Azkaban."
The eldest of the healers walked up and patted the Minister on the shoulder.
"Did you discover something?"
Fudge clutched at the old healer's hand like a drowning man grasping a lifeline, urgently asking.
"In terms of magic, we found nothing at all—which is exactly why we believe you!"
The old healer kept a mysterious air, brushing off Fudge's hand and leaving the room with the other healers.
Even the two representatives from the Department of Mysteries passed Fudge with enigmatic smiles.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are they mocking my intelligence? Fudge wanted nothing more than to shout "Avada Kedavra!" and blast them all.
Minister Fudge never realized—or perhaps someone would point it out to him later.
From the moment Regulus Black entered the hospital room, during his conversation with Bellatrix Lestrange, it was already clear the child was a girl—he only asked for a girl's name.
Then there was the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange had not given the child her husband's surname, instead choosing the Black family name. That alone was worth pondering. Was this her way of making it clear the child had nothing to do with her husband?
Lastly, Regulus Black's actions—he brought a coffin with him, clearly prepared in advance. Why was he so certain someone would die during childbirth? Even with St. Mungo's top healers present—multiple ones, at that—they were unable to prevent Bellatrix Lestrange's death. At the very moment the child was born, another life withered away.
These three facts made one thing abundantly clear: Regulus Black knew exactly what was going on with this pregnancy. He might have even orchestrated it. But the problem was, none of it could be proven—these were all suspicions. Everyone present was a witness, and not one piece of evidence could directly link Regulus Black to the witch's pregnancy.
Now the rest was Fudge's headache to deal with. The attitudes of the ancient families were surprisingly unanimous: this was Regulus Black's doing. The Black family had a method that allowed witches to become pregnant without direct contact with a man. The price? The mother's death and the child's survival.
Though the cost seemed steep, compared to being imprisoned in Azkaban for life, many witches would likely be willing to make that trade to give their family a new heir. The real question was, what kind of conditions would move Regulus Black to act?
Soon enough, someone relayed the situation to Fudge. After all, the Ministry of Magic was the scapegoat, and also the most eager to shift the blame. That meant any negotiations could be handled through Fudge—so long as the terms were acceptable, the Ministry would likely be willing to shoulder part of the cost.
Fudge, who had been at his wits' end, finally saw the root of the issue. But now the dilemma: should he send Aurors to arrest Regulus Black directly, or go through the Wizengamot and issue a formal warrant?
"Minister Fudge, let me remind you—this... let's call it a spell—you're not the only family that wants it. Many Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban still have relatives on the outside. While they don't wish to break Ministry law outright, they'd much rather see their kin serve the family one last time than rot in Azkaban. That is the consensus."
The person sitting across from Minister Fudge was none other than Judy Fox. Not long after Regulus Black had left the Ministry in that dramatic fashion—cradling a newborn and floating a coffin behind him—the old families had quickly connected and formed a plan. They then sought out Judy Fox, the person closest to Regulus Black, to negotiate—or more accurately, to notify—the Ministry.
"So what do you expect me to do? Bow my head and apologize to that Black boy?"
Fudge's position as Minister had been the result of compromises among various factions, which meant he was a puppet with little power or foresight. Unlike other power players, he had no advisers to help him strategize—this was the difference.
"There's no need to make it that complicated. Just bring Regulus Black in. From what I know of him, if you speak honestly about your situation and express your desire for his help, he'll likely offer a solution himself—once the terms are right."
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