[Quill press.] You're dead. I'm dead. There's a one-year-old that's supposedly ours, whom is being raised by your mother, but I don't believe I'd ever let myself have a child, so it must be someone else's.
Regardless, don't talk to your aunts. Especially, don't talk to Bellatrix. However mad you think I am, can you give me your word on that?