The Last Gryffindor (Sirius Black)

Chapter XX: The World Will Be Thy Widow

Overcome as she was with searing anger, it barely even registered that his finger was still raising her head until he abruptly pulled away.

"You, my dear, are nothing like them. You understand the importance of blood purity and the strength of the correct breeding." Breeding? Were we animals? He continued, "We both arose from lines of power, Aeliana. Not many are aware, but your ancestry nearly rivals my own."

Bull-fucking-shit, she thought savagely. Not to be vain, but unless he was descended from Merlin himself, there was no way his ancestry could be more distinguished than Godric Gryffindor. There was a reason her family stood at the top of the wizarding world with a status reserved almost solely for royalty.

Voldemort held out his hand and, for one wild second, Lia thought he expected her to kiss it like a lowly peasant before a king, but the moment passed when he opened his mouth to resume, an almost smug expression on his face.

"Do you recognize this ring?"

Her eyes flitted towards a clunky (quite ugly) ring decorating his middle finger. What type of ring had a stone instead of a jewel? It didn't even seem that well taken care of, considering the rock (not slang for a diamond, in this case) had several deep scratches scarring its surface.

"I do not, my lord," Lia replied honestly, sincerely doubting any intrinsic value in such a unrefined piece of jewelry outside of old age.

"It belonged to my grandfather, Marvalo Gaunt."

That name she did, in fact, recognize. The Gaunt's were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families, one of the few Lia wasn't actually related to, but she had been under the impression that they'd died off. If Voldemort was related to those bigots, did that mean he was a pureblood, too? That couldn't be possible, because, figuring she was correct in assuming he was Tom Riddle, Riddle wasn't the surname of any wizarding family in Britain, let alone a pure blood one.

"He was a grave disappointment, I'm afraid, but the blood he carried in his veins passed onto me the unrivaled lineage of Salazar Slytherin himself."

If Lia's mind worked a mile a minute before, then that was nothing compared to now. Dots she didn't even know existed connected themselves in her head at lightening speed. Any doubt she had about it being Voldemort who took Hepzibah Smith's locket and cup vanished with the knowledge that he was Slytherin's heir. Know what she knew, Lia couldn't believe she hadn't figured it out earlier! That parselmouth thing was a major red flag.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor..." he said, trailing a cold finger down her cheek, sending shivers rocketing down her spine in response.

A sense of foreboding settled in her stomach, proving that no matter how bad the situation seemed, things could always get worse. Lia really wasn't sure she cared for the direction this conversation was going, so she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut.

"Do you have the sword, after your brother so foolishly sent it away last summer? Did he send it to you?" Voldemort asked, a hungry look developing in his eyes, despite the cool expression he kept plastered on the rest of his face.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I do not have it," Lia apologized, eternally grateful that, like a spoiled brat, she told Dumbledore at the funeral to keep the sword at Hogwarts out of anger. "It's in Dumbledore's hands now. Caius sent it to Hogwarts for safe keeping, so it's out of my reach."

And yours, she added internally, with no small amount of satisfaction.

"Pity," he said, seeming disappointed, but for some reason the greedy edge never left his eyes. "The wizarding world will fall to its knees before the heirs of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Our ancestors may have quarreled, but they were friends once, and together they formed Hogwarts. Imagine what we can do together, Aeliana. The world will never be the same."

Lia sensed him guiding her to a very specific destination with his words, but she wasn't sure where. She already pledged herself to his cause. What more could he want?

"Fortuitous that, after a thousand years at odds, we, the last of each our respective lines, have come together towards a common goal. It would be a shame to let such prestigious legacies end with us." The way his crimson eyes pierced her gave the impression he was fighting through her occlumency to peer into her mind. When she didn't say anything, he pressed forward. "What a powerful tool a person of both our revered lines would make, for the war and after. We have the unique opportunity, Aeliana, to create the most powerful legacy of all."

The truth hit her like a bomb. He was speaking of a child, an actual human being, as if it was a mere weapon to be used and tossed away as it suited him, not that he ever struck her as the sentimental type. To him, everything was about power and how to get more of it. Perhaps the Gryffindor name had influence that the Slytherin name lacked, if only because it survived through the male line for the past millennia and dominated Ministry politics. The more Lia thought about it, the more it made a twisted kind of sense.

A knock at the door cut through the tense silence. Lia loosed a relieved breath and excused herself by saying, "You must be very busy, my lord. The thought is..." Disgusting. "flattering. Who wouldn't want a convergence of our mighty bloodlines?" Me, for one. "But please, give me time to think on it. I'm so young children, even one with such esteemed blood as ours. My seventh year in Hogwarts would have only just finished a few weeks ago, had I stayed. There's really no rush."

Did she lay the flattery on thick enough? It was hard to sound sincerely thrilled with an offer, or perhaps it may have been an order, when the very idea of it made her nauseous. She understood why the thought would appeal to him, seeing as he was obviously hung up on heritage. Theoretically, the idea was even sort of appealing to her, too, in an abstract, scientific sort of way. She was curious how such a child might turn out, descended from two of the most powerful wizards ever known, but that was where that interest ended. Lia was the baby of her family, so the idea of having a child of her own was unappealing at that time of my life, even if it wasn't with the most evil and repulsive man she'd ever come across. Not to mention the fact that it was her dearest wish to murder said nonexistent baby's father. Best case scenario, the baby would become forever stuck with the stigma that it's mother killed its father; worst case scenario, Voldemort kills Lia and raises the child to be just like him. No matter what, any child from them would be a complete basket case.

Lia heard the whispered rush of wind parting behind her as she made swiftly for the door, wanting to put as much distance between Voldemort and herself as possible. His proposal made her feel like a bucket of slime was dumped over her head, an icky feeling that made her crave a scalding shower.

She only just pulled open the thick door to reveal the knocker as Regulus, the only person at the Manor who could make her feel less ill at the moment. Involuntarily, a weak smile formed at the edges of her lips, but his own lips did the exact opposite.

They parted in alarm, about to say something, and too late Lia recognized that hiss of parting air from behind her as a spell being fired. She didn't even have the chance to lift her wand in defense before it struck mid-back, first sending a numbing shock of electricity, before a wave of contentment settled through her muddled mind. All thoughts and worries of the earlier conversation evaporated, replaced with blissful nothingness. She barely even acknowledged Regulus in front of her anymore, his wide, shocked eyes not registering.

A silky voice in my head whispered, coolly, Keep walking out that door. Act normal.

As if in a dream, Lia felt her feet placing themselves one in front of the other, carrying her far from that chamber, but the voice stayed, caressing her thoughts with its smooth whisperings.