Barty steps into the hospital room, mask tucked under one arm, expression calm but his eyes calculating. He moves toward you, hand still steadying yours.

“It’s time,” he says softly. “She’s ready to meet him.”

You glance at him, exhausted but alert. The baby—Ajax—rests against your chest, tiny fists curling instinctively. His soft, fragile life pulses with energy, already a part of the darkness you inhabit.

Barty leaves the room briefly and returns moments later with Aria-Rose. She’s wide-eyed, small but confident, her steps careful as she approaches the bed. Her gaze immediately locks on the tiny bundle in your arms.

“Is that…?” she whispers, voice barely audible.

“Yes,” you reply softly, adjusting Ajax so she can see him better. “That’s your brother. Ajax Barty Crouch.”

⸻

Aria-Rose kneels beside the bed, hands folded nervously, but her eyes are filled with awe. She reaches forward slowly, fingers trembling as she touches his tiny hand. The baby curls instinctively around her touch.

Barty stands close, mask tucked aside, watching the moment unfold. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, calculation, and a shadow of apprehension. He knows what this means. You are now mother to two, mentor to one, predator to all—but there’s a bond here that even he cannot control.

“She’s… gentle,” he murmurs. “And precise. Just like you taught her.”

You glance at him, eyes tired but sharp. “Gentle now. Precise always. That’s the balance she needs. And he will need the same.”

⸻

Aria-Rose whispers to her brother, voice barely audible: “I’m your sister…I’ll protect you.”

You watch her closely, heart swelling with a strange mix of pride and fear. She is learning the ways of the shadows, already instinctively protective, already dangerous in her own right. And Ajax—small, fragile, but alive—is now a part of the world you’ve built, a piece of the legacy that stretches into the future.

Barty leans down, brushing his hand over Ajax’s tiny head. “Strong,” he murmurs. “Both of them will be stronger than I ever imagined.”

You meet his gaze, a faint smile breaking through your exhaustion. “They’ll survive,” you say softly. “Because they have to. Because I will teach them. And because the shadows are in their blood.”

⸻

Aria-Rose continues to watch Ajax, small fingers brushing his soft skin, careful and deliberate. She looks up at you. “Mama… can we teach him like you taught me?”

You nod, exhausted but resolute. “Yes. But slowly. Carefully. He has to understand the shadows before he steps into them.”

Barty’s eyes flick between the two children and you. His usual obsession and control are tempered now by respect and calculation. He realizes, finally, that the next generation isn’t just yours—it’s both of yours and theirs, shaped in the darkness, ready to survive.

And for a moment, in the dim hospital room, amidst monitors and quiet hums, the shadows feel different.

Not just fear. Not just danger.

Legacy. Protection. Family.

Ghostface isn’t just a mask anymore—it’s a dynasty in the making.