Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers were taken into custody by the British Ministry of Magic, for countless acts of terrorism and extensive use of illegal Dark Arts.
They were served a life sentence in Azkaban, and their estate seized by the government as evidence for a nonexistent trial. The information was passed along to Adrian's father almost immediately due to his ministry ties. The public was quick to celebrate.
Word of the arrest spread faster than the court issued search warrant. Adrian was able to call upon the Lestrange house elves and order them to remove everything of Adrian's from the building. There was to be no proof or sign that Adrian existed.
From there, evidence had to remain to suggest that the house was actually being lived in; beds had to remain unkempt, the questionably edible cake Bella had made earlier that day sat out untouched, and the training room still messy from the blasting curses and burn marks.
Lutain appeared in the hands of a terrified House Elf. The magical creature nearly screamed as it practically flung Lutain towards the bed. The bed was the only spot in Adrian's room that wasn't magically being filled with boxes and random knick-knacks.
"Master?" Lutain grumbled, disoriented and confused with the sudden change as well as his sudden flight through the air, "Where are we, Master?"
Adrian grabbed Lutain and rapidly began to slide his fingers down the soft scales behind his neck. The action was repeated, over and over as the room began to fill with books and trunks. The longer he spent tracing the scales and belly plates of his closest friend, the more relaxed he became. He was finally able to fight and dispel the rising nausea.
"Master?" Lutain was alarmed, seeing as the stack of trunks began to include the trunks of dark artifacts Bella had obtained over the years. That along with Adrian's uncharacteristic behaviour was starting to alarm the serpent.
"Master where is the witch?" Lutain asked, nearly flailing to break free from Adrian's grip.
"Bellatrix has been captured," Adrian choked out hoarsly, "and imprisoned for life. We're going to live here, with Nagini and my father."
Lutain stilled, looking at Adrian with the reptilian version of confusion, "Live here? Den-mates with Nagini?"
Adrian smiled softly and stroked Lutain's chin and the small bulges of his jaw muscles, "She asked about you earlier. She likes you, you know."
Lutain cheered up, looking eager to find his serpentine companion.
Something empty was carving a cavern in Adrian's throat, "I'm glad you have a friend."
The unspoken 'Now that Bella is gone' rang loudly in the silence.
"Oh Master." Lutain sighed, voice conveying pity and sorrow.
"No!" Adrian snapped, standing sharply and knocking the snake off of him. "You said it yourself a long time ago. There's no use having friends when they'll always leave you in the end."
"Master, the witch did not mean to leave you." Lutain argued.
"If she really cared," Adrian snapped out, ignoring the feeling that something was crying inside, "she wouldn't have gotten herself captured."
"Mast-"
"She's just as bad as the Potters!" Adrian spat out, stalking to the door and slamming it on his way out.
The first time Adrian ran into his father, he found the older man in a clearly muggle kitchen.
It was old, equipped with stone countertops but rather rustic stoves and refrigeration. The accessories looked like they hadn't ever been used, leaving Adrian to only guess where the food was actually stored.
His father, holding a half eaten red apple in one hand observed him with a bored expression. It was unsettling, mostly because Adrian had the mental image of some horrific pale creature resembling the mandrake root body his father had inhabited before.
Seeing his father looking so positively normal was a sort of terror unique to itself that somehow was more horrific than even a face mauled by werewolf claws.
And as such, Adrian froze in the doorway feeling his entire body go cold.
"Well?" The older man sighed, voice tinged with annoyance, "are you going to stand there all day?"
Adrian mechanically walked into the kitchen and quietly sat on a chair.
His father eyed him critically and bit the apple again. The crunching sound drew an instinctive flinch from the boy.
The crimson eyes were terrifying, they unnerved him and watched his every move as his hands curled into fists under the table.
"You're so terrified," his father dryly stated, somehow sounding pleased with the arrangement.
"It seems, that I owe you gratitude for returning my diary to myself."
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