Silence ensnared the room, not a single noise to be heard at all in the dim house save for the muffled shrieking laughs of Walpurga Black. No one paid her any mind, however, each person waiting with bated breath for someone to break the silence while Dumbledore looked on with an unusually serious expression. Harry himself felt like he just took a Bludger to the chest, each breath coming out as a small gasp.

In a struggle to understand, to come to some form of grips of the news, Harry search the crowd of faces in hopes that at least one could bring some sanity to the otherwise now warped reality he found himself free falling through. Alas, all seemed to be in various stages of shock and surprise, with Dumbledore the lone rock amid the sea of confusion.

The only other exception was one Alaster Moody, whose face seemed to be twisted into something darker and angrier.
The elder man continued to watch patiently with those blue eyes of his for all to digest the news, knowing that many in the room who had long been mired in their own beliefs were stuck trying to let sense reassert itself where there was no sense to be found. At least not as they perceived it.

Finally, it was Sirius himself that seemed to get a grip first as he drew in a ragged breath that was borderline a hysterical giggle and asked the question that was running through everyone's heads.

"Are you bloody serious?"

Dumbledore blinked slowly in response, the usual mischievous twinkle in his eyes oddly missing. All that was there was a grave seriousness that left chills running up Harry's spine.

"I would not joke about such a matter that could very much change the outcome of this war," the Headmaster paused, taking in a measured breath as if steeling himself for the outrage that the news was likely to spark.

"I thought she was dead! You told me she died! That we didn't have to worry about whether or not she or her kin were brought into the fold!" Moody yelled in all his enraged glory, jumping from his seat after the confirmation.

"So did I. But it seems there was an external force-other than death-at work that was preventing me from magically monitoring her." A weary sigh passed the old man's lips as he slumped into the chair, Dumbledore looking every bit his age in those few moments, "With death, she would have at least found peace and we would have had one less person to worry about him attaining. Yet it appears that is not in the cards for us."

"Are you saying you wish for the death of a young woman?" Molly Weasley finally chimed in, her motherly instinct bypassing any of the lingering prejudice weariness that came with the knowledge of the Dark Lord having a living grandson.

"Molly, death would be a kinder fate should Voldemort get his hands on her," Moody replied darkly while wringing his hands in agitation.

"Not just her," Dumbledore cut in, voice ringing in a tone that could only be described as somber, "Sylvia has a son, around Harry's age in fact. It seems she conceived at the time of her absence from our sight, one we mistook for death,"

The silence shattered at that, the added shock of Voldemort not only having a daughter but also a grandson sparking all into motion and anger where before there had been none.

"So we don't just have to deal with one, but two people related to him!?" Sirius was at the front of the mob, yelling with the best of them. Only careful eyes could see the worry and sympathy that the anger struggled to suppress.

Dumbledore, for his part, seemed to merely ignore the chaos, instead simply clearing his throat until, finally, attention fell on him once more. Even then, many found themselves at a loss for words as they noticed the returned twinkle of mischief in the elder's eyes.

"As a muggle-raised Half-blood, I doubt Sylvia's child will be cause for much trouble."

Everyone paused to consider the words shared. After all, would any really wish death on someone so close to the age of their savior? Someone who likely had no real association with the Dark Lord, or even their world other than a quarter of his blood?

Even as logic continued to cry injustice toward assuming the boy evil, Harry couldn't help the suspicious and angry thrum pulsing through him. Voldemort has a family. A living family. While Harry lost his own to the Dark Wizard, Voldemort had a family. Revenge cried out for attention, screaming out a desire to tear Voldemort's own family apart in retribution.

Then a hand was on his shoulder, the warmth soothing the rage, anger, hate, and pain into something calmer. He was still upset, but he no longer felt quite so bloodthirsty.

"Harry, it may not be fair, but you must remember this child did not ask for his family. He did not actively seek the Dark Lord out. He is as innocent as young Ginevra here," Dumbledore's soothing voice rang out from behind him.

Harry's mind drifted unbiddenly toward his best mate's little sister. Ginny, whom the Dark Lord possessed and forced to do his bidding. Ginny, the young red-head whose life he saved after she proved to no longer be a useful tool. The young first year who didn't ask for any of it yet was thrown face first into the chaos just the same.

No one blamed her for what she could not control. Not even Harry, who hated Voldemort more than anything, saw any fault for the girl who suffered from events out of her hands. So what was he doing now, villainizing someone he had never met who was merely a victim of circumstance?

"How does Ginny have anything to do with the Darkspawn!?" Ron managed to holler out between his indignant squawking. Part of Harry cried out in agreement with Ron's comments, but a larger part of him throbbed with guilt at his darker thoughts. Dumbledore was right, it wasn't fair of them to judge someone who likely didn't even know Voldemort existed. To judge someone based off of his blood would make Harry no better than the Dark Lord himself.

"Umm...Headmaster, you said you thought that Voldemort's family was dead. How?" Hermione's voice cut through Harry's thoughts.

Dumbledore withdrew his hand from Harry's shoulder to stroke his beard in thought before looking up at the young Granger with his customarily twinkling eyes.

"Why, it was thanks to you and your love of reading," Dumbledore practically beamed at the brunette before becoming more subdued. "As you heard me say before, his daughter, Sylvia, was born as a result of a fledgling romance between Tom Riddle and Arabelle Greengrass... though looking back on it, it may have been one sided. At any rate, this occurred at a time before Tom Riddle became Voldemort. Given that information, it was likely he didn't need a true heir and was simply seeking an alliance to aid him when he came out. As a result, when he inevitably ascended to the status of Dark Lord, he already had what he wanted and didn't need to keep up with her.

"Given her status though, she was treated with much scorn by the fearful majority. Arabelle was treated as a pariah, often facing down threats as she struggled to find a way to support herself and her baby daughter. Many places refused to hire her, due to her previous association with Tom Riddle. After an incident where someone tried to kill Sylvia, Arabelle decided to send her daughter to live with her estranged sister, Laura, and muggle brother-in-law, Jim."

Dumbledore paused, his gaze far away as if reliving some distant memory. Everyone waited with bated breath for the Headmaster to regain himself and continue the story. He did not disappoint.

"We temporarily lost track of Sylvia after Laura and Jim met their end. From what I was able to gather from Headmistress Adriana, Sylvia attended Ilvermorny in the United States for her magic education up until the death of her adopted parents. When we finally did discover her location, it was only shortly before her magic signature faded entirely, something that only occurs in death," Dumbledore finished.

"But that still doesn't explain how you found out she is alive and has a son," Lupin pointed out patiently, even as Hermione tried to digest the new knowledge she was granted.

It was a question that the old man seemed to be waiting for if the small smile on his lips meant anything.

"It is remarkable how out of touch we Wizards are with the Muggle world. For all our power, they have a way of knowing things even we can't and distributing that information accordingly," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "It seems oddly poetic that such information could exist under our noses, never to be seen because we simply didn't read it. Which is a shame because, despite its lack of pictures, it can still be just as informative."

"Wait...the paper..." Hermione mumbled in thought as she seemed to catch onto some unheard cue. "That story last year, the one of the boy...Voldemort's grandson is the boy who was seen near the site of the Eruption of Mount Saint Helens in the United States!? The same boy who kidnapped his mother and was the focus of a nationwide manhunt a few years earlier!?"

"Yes, the woman who was missing was Sylvia Greengrass Jackson. And the boy is her son, Perseus Jackson."

/|[Line Break]|\

Elsewhere, a large shape lays limply out on silken sheets. Sweat dots the young boy's brow even as a man with hair the color of midnight and eyes just as dark tends to him. Already the green bedding beneath him has been stained red, the same red that coats the thin fingers that tirelessly work to stitch and clean the wounds that dot the child's frame.

Severus Snape watches over his charge, the purse of his lips the only sign of something more than his usual resting announce. Rather, worry seems to grip at him, both for himself and for his unwitting patient. He had half the mind to snap at Lucius if only to release some of the tension coiling in his guts.

Yet Lucius seemed just as stunned and fearful upon returning, towing in the bleeding limp teen with singed clothes and sand-filled hair. The usually stoic pureblood could only seem to mutter "He killed it" under his breath over and over again as more Death Eaters rushed to aid him with his package. The fear in the air was palpable though.

After all, if anything happened to the young teen, the Dark Lord would be most displeased. An heir was only useful alive. Should he pass the Gates of Death, Severus knew he wouldn't be following far behind.

That was his reasoning, the excuse he continued to tell himself over and over again, as he continued to work on his patient. He used that to explain the faint tremor of his limbs. The trepidation that was not of fear-never fear-that continued to permeate him as he staunched the bleeding and fought infection and staved off dehydration. And if he just so happened to flinch when he caught sight of a scar or two...well, no one had to know.

|Author's Note|

I know surprise surprise I updated roughly within a week of posting a chapter. I am intending to keep up a semi-regular update schedule if all goes well so wish me luck. Other than that, I don't really have much else to say other than thanks for the reviews and keep on enjoying it right there.

And thanks again to my wonderful beta Lunartic Cress!

Now onto the replies to the reviews...

- ArthurShade Thanks for the compliment Arthur! I aim to please! ^^

- Guest01 I am glad you enjoy it. It seemed like fun to write and worth it to share. I hope you will continue to enjoy! ^^

- Guest02 Your wish has been granted with another chapter. As for his powers, this is before the Titan War, so he is still kinda young and inexperienced. Plus I needed to leave room for him to grow as he learned about Wizards. I can't promise he will be greatly OP, but I can promise he will rival the Wizards in terms of power.

- Guest03 I could answer that... but I don't want to spoil the surprise.~ Let's just say that things will be interesting if/when they meet.