Alecto's Baby Registry
The baby registry for Alecto Carrow was unlike any other. It contained no crib mobiles with fluttering unicorns or piles of plush toys destined to be ignored. Instead, it listed items of necessity and practicality. A high chair, enchanted to prevent escape, was at the top, followed by a silver spoon, engraved with the family crest, that would be used to serve her meals. There was a special set of plates, designed to wobble just enough to challenge Alecto's developing motor skills without allowing food to slip away. The silverware, too, had been charmed to hover slightly above the plate, waiting patiently for her tiny, unsteady hands to grasp them.
The registry also included an assortment of potions and elixirs, each with specific instructions for their administration. A calming draught to be given before nap times, a potion to aid in digestion after meals, and a series of vitamins that were as essential to Alecto's development as the very air she breathed. The ingredients for these concoctions were rare and expensive, but only the best would suffice for a child of such lineage. The book's pages were filled with the names of herbs and minerals that only a handful of witches and wizards could pronounce, much less obtain.
Beneath the potions and feeding tools was a section titled "Sleep Comforts." It was a short list, comprised of a silk-lined bassinet, an enchanted white noise machine that sang a lullaby only Alecto could hear, and a series of nightgowns made from the softest muggle-cotton available. The garments were simple yet elegant, devoid of any unnecessary frills that could irritate her delicate skin or impede her ability to move freely during the night. The nursery was to be kept cold, a preference passed down through generations of Carrows, and the only source of warmth would be the ancient, enchanted fireplace that crackled gently in the corner.
The registry grew longer, each item chosen with purpose. There were books, of course, but not the colorful picture books filled with cheerful animals that most children loved. These were ancient tomes, their pages yellowed with age, filled with the wisdom of darker arts and forgotten history. They were books that would one day teach Alecto of her heritage, of the power and influence that ran through her veins. There were also toys, but they were not the sort that made noise or required batteries. They were wooden figures, carved with the precision of an elite dueling wand, that could be used to teach her the art of strategy and combat from a young age.
For playtime, there were enchanted darts that could stick to the wall without damaging the priceless tapestries, and a set of miniature wands that she could use under supervision. They were not toys, per se, but tools for sharpening her innate magical abilities, ensuring she would be a force to be reckoned with when the time came. There were no teddy bears or dolls, no blocks to stack or puzzles to solve. Instead, there were potions to mix and spells to cast, under the watchful eye of a designated tutor, of course.
The final section of the registry was for Alecto's education. A child's mind was a sponge, ready to soak up knowledge like a dry spell in the Sahara. She listed a variety of texts from the Hogwarts library, each one more complex than the last. There were scrolls detailing the history of the Death Eaters and the darkest moments of the wizarding world, and manuals on the care and keeping of creatures that would make even Hagrid shudder. This was not a carefree childhood, but one of purpose and preparation.
The nursery itself was a testament to the Carrow lineage. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of triumph over light and good, serving as both a stark reminder of the family's beliefs and a source of macabre fascination for the young mind. The floor was cold stone, a stark contrast to the plush rugs that adorned the rest of the manor. It was said that walking on the cold stone would strengthen Alecto's resolve and toughen her spirit, much like her ancestors who had trodden the damp, hard floors of Azkaban. The crib, a relic from Alecto's great-grandmother, was made of the darkest, densest wood, ensorcelled to keep any creature at bay that might dare to harm the precious child within.
The bookshelves, though sparse compared to the grandeur of the rest of the manor, would hold a collection of carefully curated tomes. These were not bedtime stories filled with heroes and happy endings. They were tales of ambition and power, of cunning and strength. "The Tome of the Dark Lord," "The Unforgivable Curses for Beginners," and "A History of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" were just a few of the titles that awaited Alecto's eager eyes. They would be introduced to her when she was deemed ready, each story serving as a lesson in the art of becoming the witch she was meant to be.
Finally, there were the toys. Alecto's playtime was not to be filled with the giggles and laughter of a typical child. Instead, she would learn the importance of precision and control with a set of knives that grew magically with her, each blade as sharp as the wit she would one day wield. There was a collection of enchanted action figures, each depicting a member of the Death Eater's inner circle. They were not to be played with lightly; they were to be studied, their movements mimicked, and their tactics analyzed. The nursery was not a place for frivolous play, but a chamber for the cultivation of a warrior's mind.