Harry Potter: The Last Heiress of The White Family

Somewhere, deep within the forested hills of Britain, nestled in frost and secrecy, stood White Manor—a grand and ancient castle bearing the name of the noble house it had sheltered for generations. On that night, in one of its many quiet chambers—adorned with delicate toys, porcelain dolls, and velvet cushions—a young woman sat on the floor, smiling at her child.

Maria White, regal even in simplicity, was playing with her baby girl, barely a year old. The soft light of the enchanted chandelier above made the child's green eyes gleam like forest on fresh snow. Maria laughed gently, holding out her arms.

"Oh, my little Eira… how beautiful you are," she cooed, tickling the girl's tiny fingers. "You're so cute, come to Mummy. Please say 'Mama'… say 'Mama'."

The baby laughed—a sound like bells in winter—and Maria's smile deepened, her dark eyes filled with warmth.

"Oh, you're still too young to speak, aren't you?" she whispered, brushing back the girl's soft white curls. "My little Eira… my light… my everything. I wish… I wish you had a different father. I wish the rumors were true—then you might had a father who loved you."

Her voice cracked. The smile faltered. Maria sighed—a deep, painful sigh. But then, Eira reached up and took hold of her fingers, clutching them with surprising strength. Maria blinked away the sting in her eyes, lifted her daughter in her arms, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Yes, my light… my snow," she murmured. "Even at your age, you know how to calm me."

She hugged the child tightly, tears forgotten—for a moment.

Then came the noise.

A thunderous explosion outside the manor.

Maria stiffened. Her mother's instincts screamed. She rose quickly, placing Eira carefully into the crib lined with silver thread, then snatched up her wand and crept toward the door. Outside, voices echoed through the grand corridors.

"Kill them all. Leave none alive!"

Her heart sank. Death Eaters.

She turned back to the nursery—but too late. Two masked figures in black cloaks burst into view, wands raised.

Maria reacted instantly. A shield charm flared from her wand, intercepting a barrage of red and green spells. She countered with a vicious slashing hex that tore into the tapestry behind them, but her enemies were skilled—too skilled. They deflected the spell with ease, circling like wolves.

From the hallway, another voice rang out—bloodied, hoarse, familiar.

"Maria! Come, we have to run! They're Death Eaters—the Dark Lord sent them!"

Maria's breath caught. She turned and saw her husband, Damien White, staggering into view. Blood soaked his robes. One of his ears was missing.

"Please, help me hold them back!" she cried. "I have to get Eira—"

"Let her go!" Damien shouted. "Let her be! We have to run!"

Maria froze. The words stung like ice in her veins.

He was telling her to abandon their child. Their daughter.

The man she had once trusted… now told her to leave Eira behind.

She didn't respond. She didn't have to. She spun and cast another volley of spells, pushing the Death Eaters back down the corridor. Damien, behind her, hissed bitterly.

"Run, you vile woman! There are at least a dozen more outside! That child's life means nothing!"

Maria's stomach churned in disgust. She turned away from him, fled into the nursery as spells whistled past her. Inside, Eira was crying in terror. Maria scooped her up and held her tightly, whispering soothing words she barely believed herself.

" Don't worry my little snow momma is here to protect you from the bad guys " 

Then came more voices.

"Well, the mighty Lord of the White Family ran off like a coward," one Death Eater sneered.

His companion chuckled darkly. "Left his pretty wife and daughter for us. What a gift."

"Don't get distracted," the first growled. "You know the orders."

"Come on, a little fun first—then we kill her , we shouldn't waste her beauty."

Maria's blood turned cold. Still holding her child close, she raised her wand.

"Confringo!"

The floor burst apart beneath their feet, throwing debris everywhere. Maria launched spell after spell—cutting curses, blasting hexes—even the Killing Curse itself. One of the Death Eaters ducked away just in time, startled.

"She's mad!" one shouted. "She's using the Avada!"

But Maria didn't care. She fought, for her child, for her dignity, for every dream she once had. Tears blurred her vision—tears not of fear, but of heartbreak. She had abandoned her own family for Damien. For love.

And he had left her. Betrayed her.

Still, she fought. Shield after shield, curse after curse. She stood between Eira and the world, using every bit of her magic to hold the Death Eaters at bay.

Outside the nursery, the two masked intruders grew desperate.

"Finish her now! If this drags on, the Ministry will intervene!"

"Why not disarm her? Take her hostage?"

"You bastard!" the other snapped. " Control your lust, No distractions—we end it here!"

"I'll charge the door. You cast cover spells!"

Maria heard the movement—felt the surge in the air—but it was too late. One of them broke through, and from behind him came the final curse.

"Avada Kedavra."

Green light.

Her last sight was Eira—sobbing, reaching out with tiny hands.

And then darkness.

Maria White fell, while protecting her child.

A second later, the two Death Eaters entered the room.

"The bitch was persistent," one muttered.

"Not like the others," the taller one agreed. "Now, finish the brat."

The short, fat one stepped forward and peered into the crib.

"She's… so cute."

A sharp slap hit the back of his head. "Don't be an idiot. Do it."

He grunted. Raised his wand.

"Sorry, beautiful. Your only sin was being born to this family. If they'd just pledged loyalty to the Dark Lord, you might've lived."

"Avada Kedavra."

Silence.

White Manor fell still for the first time in centuries.

⸻

Elsewhere…

Deep beneath the manor, in a hidden tunnel meant for emergencies, Damien White ran for his life. Blood dripped from his ruined ear, his breath came ragged.

"Why—why the hell did the defensive runes fail?" he cursed aloud, panting. "Who betrayed us?!"

A name flashed through his mind. A face. A memory.

" You Fucking Bastard , when I get out of here I will come for you " 

But a flash of red light struck him from the side, and he crumpled to the ground.

Laughter rang out—high-pitched, maniacal.

A woman stepped from the shadows.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Behind her loomed her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, red hair like fresh blood.

Bellatrix knelt beside Damien's fallen form, clicking her tongue.

"Well, well… look at you. The last time I saw you, you were bending me over in a Hogwarts corridor. Fucking me hard , Remember that time Damie?"

He trembled with fear, knowing the terror awaiting him in the face of this deranged lunatic.

She cupped his cheek. "A shame, really. I used to enjoy your company. But now? You die. For rejecting my master's invitation."

She stood and dug her heel into his face.

"Still a pretty one, aren't you, Damie? Shame you chose the losing side."

Rodolphus growled, "Enough, Bella. If you are playing around then I'll kill him."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she snarled, shoving him aside. Then she raised her wand.

"Crucio!"

Damien screamed. Again. And again.

"Crucio!"

"Enough!" Rodolphus barked. "We don't have time."

With a sigh, Bellatrix drew in close. "Fine."

She whispered the final curse, and the green light ended Damien White's life.

He fell still, face twisted in agony and shame.

Bellatrix leaned down and kissed his lips one last time.

"So long, lover."

She turned and walked away. Rodolphus sneered down at the body, then followed.

Outside, Bellatrix raised her wand and fired the Dark Mark into the sky. A giant emerald skull appeared above the manor, its snake tongue twisting in silent triumph.

Then the Death Eaters vanished.

And for the first time in centuries, White Manor fell into a silence so deep, it seemed the very walls were mourning.

..................

Eira (pronounced AY-rah). It's a Welsh name meaning "snow,".