Sorry about the fact that I haven't updated for months! I didn't know the right way to go with this story. But I suppose I have had help and inspiration.

To Guest Reviewer: Thank you so much! I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, I just needed a fresh way of looking at this and finding out where to go from here. And thank you- I thrive on complexity and challenge!

Discoveries and Decisions

"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one...just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

F. Scott Fitzgerald.

"Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future."

William Wordsworth.

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes. He was in disguise but there was still a risk of being conspicuous.

Eyes narrowing, Rhaegar knew that at least Alarissa and their child would be safe with Dumbledore.

No, all he had to worry for now was to stop that damned Voldemort and keep himself alive so he could go home, before Voldemort could kill anyone else.

The Vǫlva said that another was meant to kill him, but Rhaegar planned to temporarily stop him as much as he could.

In any way he could.

Well, if it wasn't bad enough, Rhaegar thought. People were gossiping about this latest incident. He spotted several disgruntled people- possibly witnesses- and some excited ones, eagerly talking or complaining to eager reporters.

Rhaegar needed to get this done. He wanted nothing more to get back to his wife and unborn child. But right now, he had a job to do and he needed to do it well and with extreme precision.

Rhaegar knew that the odds were stacked highly against him. Who knew what Tom Riddle had learnt and gone through throughout the years? Athelinda did to an extent, but right now, she was thankfully, safely out of his reach along with her son.

And he could not do this alone. He would be damned if Riddle- no, Voldemort, he had to remember that- was stupid enough to let things slide. Or simply flee. He might have been unable to soil his shoes, letting his damned henchman do his dirty work for him, but Voldemort was brilliant to the core. He was blind in some ways, but not entirely and certainly not stupid.

Rhaegar had to plan this carefully. The execution of his plan had to be meticulous.

Starting with his birth.

Athelinda had told him that Voldemort was a half-blood. Where was he born? Who were his parents?

He had been raised in a Muggle Orphanage.

What signs were there? Did they mistreat the children?

Rhaegar took a deep breath.

He had disguised himself successfully. His hair was brown, slightly longer, and his eyes were blue-grey. His skin was fairer, and his features were different- longer nose and narrower jaw, softer cheekbones and wider mouth with thin lips. It wasn't Polyjuice. Rhaegar simply didn't have the time to brew such a thing now.

Where was Tom Riddle born? He simply took a trip to the Ministry. Someone on the inside- who was a clan member, gave him something regarding Voldemort.

It was Wool's Orphanage. He had been born there as a child.

And so Rhaegar found himself in London, on its doorsteps.

He rang the bell.

A young woman opened the door. She blinked. "Oh… Hello," she said. "May I help you?"

"Yes, may I speak to… Whoever is in charge of this establishment?" He asked gently. "I mean no trouble, I assure you."

He hoped not.

The young woman nodded nervously. "That would be Mrs. Cole." She stepped back and held the door open for him. "I'll bring you to her. She's older now, and a bit… Well her health isn't the same as it used to be."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rhaegar said sincerely. He also hoped that this Mrs. Cole had been the one in charge of the orphanage when Tom Riddle was born.

The woman-worker led him to a little sitting room and asked him to wait. It was a while later that an old woman with greying hair appeared.

"Good morning, how may I help you?" Mrs. Cole rasped.

"My name is Mathew Hardy," Rhaegar lied. "I'm a social worker in the development of young children in institutions. I come from a government-funded company," he handed Mrs. Cole a blank pamphlet. She took it and he silently waved his wand beneath his heavy coat. Her gaze went blank for a second. She nodded.

"I have heard reports concerning one of your former orphans here," Rhaegar continued. "His name is Tom Riddle."

Mrs. Cole went blank for a second. "Oh, that one," she rasped. "Yes, I remember him." She sat down.

"Yes?" Rhaegar asked.

"It's been so long ago."

Rhaegar frowned inwardly. "Would you mind telling me when he was born and who brought him here?" He asked, praying that Tom Riddle had not been dumped in the orphanage's front step while the person ran away.

"It was his mother. She was due to give birth, that woman," Mrs. Cole nodded sagely. "New Year's Eve, 1926." She looked pleased that she remembered the date. Being so old, she had been quite forgetful recently. "A young woman. She showed up at my doorstep, heavily pregnant. She was brought in, shown to a bed. She looked starved that woman. Not healthy in her condition. Her clothes- an old dress- looked worn, not suited for the cold. She can't have eaten in days."

Rhaegar winced. That was truly horrible. He couldn't understand- if the mother was a witch- why people like the Ministry had let it slide. Or the Muggle government. She was going to have a baby for Merlin's sake!

"We brought her in. She had the baby in an hour. And within another hour she was dead."

Rhaegar was even more stunned.

"That's horrible," he said quietly. "Did he say anything about the boy's father?"

"As a matter of fact, she did," Mrs. Cole again sounded pleased. "She said the boy's name was to be Tom after his father. Middle name; Marvolo, after her father. And his surname was to be Riddle."

So that was what he knew about them. The father's name was Tom as well. The mother's father had been a man called Marvolo. It did not sound like an ordinary name. More like the aristocratic names the older Pure-Blood families were used to- names including those with roots in Atlantean, though this was not one of them. So he could bet that the mother's family were wizards. And Riddle…"

"Anything else?" Rhaegar pressed.

"She said, 'I hope he looks like his Papa.' And she was right to hope it- she could never be pretty. Cross-eyed, with a plain, heavy face, not just thin as a scarecrow. But the boy grew up, and I must say he grew to be very handsome. If not the handsomest young lad we've seen. Gave the younger girls a distraction, made them nervous. But Tom never showed an interest in them. In fact, he seemed to get all airs and graces after he attended this aristocratic school when he was eleven…"

Mrs. Cole slurred. And Rhaegar noticed a glass of gin sitting on the table next to a bottle. She also looked perplexed, like she was trying to remember something, but didn't really bother much about it and allowed it to slide in the end.

"He left when he was abou' eighteen?" She looked puzzled. "Seventeen?" Mrs. Cole appeared slightly cross. Her memory was finally lapsing. Again.

"Ah. I see." Rhaegar nodded his head. "I would like to mention that I am here also to inspect the orphanage, as per my instructions." Mrs. Cole nodded, not really caring.

She took him on a tour around the orphanage. Rhaegar was further stunned into silence and not in a pleasant way. There was no sign of abuse, or even neglect. They looked reasonably healthy and cared. But he would never allow his own child within a mile-and-a-half of this place. It was grim and full of misery wallowed in medicine, it seemed. He smelled Muggle medicine.

This was the world which Tom Riddle had been born and grew up in. And Rhaegar could believe that nobody had ever come looking for him.

Ever.

Thus the more saddened and depressed faces of the orphans there. Rhaegar winced internally. He was shocked and saddened further now. It was nowhere near as brutal as his treatment as a child on the hands of his master. But it was still so miserable an existence, so hopeless that… He began to see how the seeds of resentment grew in Tom Riddle. Rhaegar had been surrounded by a strong family unit all his life- even if his sister Athelinda went 'renegade' at some point. No one can't have cared how well Tom Riddle did in his Muggle school. No one can't have cared if some bully stole some food from him. And no one would have mourned or missed him if he had dropped dead- they would only care about if they would get into trouble. Rhaegar doubted they would ever take the time to bury the boy with a proper funeral.

When he left Rhaegar modified her memory. He also waited, invisible, for the young woman he had met to come. He cast another memory charm on her.

Rhaegar sighed heavily.

Rhaegar went back to the Ministry. And from there, Rhaegar managed- somehow- to find a Marvolo in connection to a family called Riddle in the archives. He had been eager.

Until he discovered the family was dead.

From what he had gleaned, Marvolo was named Marvolo Gaunt- he was the father of Morfin and Merope Gaunt. His wife- a first cousin, Rhaegar was disturbed to see- had died years before. Marvolo's family the Gaunts had been immeasurably wealthy once, Rhaegar read. But they had fallen low before Marvolo was even born. Rhaegar knew the pattern. The Gaunts must have intermarried for generations. The result? The gene pool must have grown shallow and muddied. Offspring were born with mental or physical defects- or even both if truly unfortunate, or the inbreeding were extended for long periods of time. Muggles did not know this, though a few suspected. But wizards were beginning to understand and Rhaegar was disgusted at the fact that they chose to ignore it- pure blood being more prized than sanity or health in their offspring. Naturally, Rhaegar remembered Mrs. Cole saying that the girl- Merope Gaunt- had been cross-eyed. The Gaunts must have had mental instability as they were unusually impoverished- even for old fallen aristocrats- by the time Marvolo was living just outside a Muggle village called Little Hangleton with his two children.

The reports showed that Morfin Gaunt attacked a Muggle. Huh, go figure. Morfin and his family were Pure-Blood supremacists. Rhaegar shook his head. Even if they had no contact with Voldemort throughout his adult life…

But the report also showed that the Muggle he attacked was named Tom Riddle- an aristocratic Muggle, a son of a squire. Rhaegar's eyes widened. Voldemort's father. Could he… Could he have attacked Riddle because…

Because of his sister, Rhaegar thought. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? A Muggle Morfin Gaunt had attacked being the same one his sister Merope had had a child with. But why didn't they kill her too? Or harm her, if they knew she was carrying his child. But then he saw the date. No, Voldemort was not yet born, probably not even conceived. Had Riddle been conducting a secret affair with Merope Gaunt this whole time and Morfin somehow found out or suspected? Caught him trying to sneak in? Rhaegar winced. That can't have gone well for the poor girl anymore than her lover. Ogden's reports about the family's treatment of her were… Alarming.

But there was more. There had to be. By the description Mrs. Cole gave him, Rhaegar knew that Merope Gaunt did not in the least resemble her son. An impoverished, possibly eccentric family with a fantastical hatred towards the Muggles they were forced to live near as opposed to Riddle's family… Maybe she broke those boundaries, and so did he. But remembering Tom Riddle's handsome face in Hogwarts, perfect in every way, Rhaegar could not help but see two people who appeared to be complete opposites in every way. An aristocratic Muggle- very wealthy by the sounds of it, and incredibly handsome, possibly the apple in the eyes of young Muggle girls, pretty as they came, in the surrounding area. And Muggle or not, he knew snobs. As a member of the elite, Tom Riddle Senior would have been invited to every party, every ball, dinner and social event there was. He probably would have had all the attention too. So why did he choose a girl as poor as could be, not even pretty, and from a family of outcasts who hated everyone that lived near them? Merope Gaunt must have been kept as far away as could be from the Muggles by her family. Judging from the reports- alarming ones, made by a certain Bob Ogden, that Marvolo Gaunt had strangled his daughter and…

Rhaegar froze dead. Slytherin. Marvolo Gaunt had strangled- or almost strangled his daughter, by dragging the girl by a chain on her neck, holding a locket that he claimed belonged to Salazar Slytherin. He had brandished it to Ogden demanding and showing off his ancestry. It could have been a lie. A mistake. But how else would he- a man of such poverty- gain a priceless artefact unless…

He was descended from Slytherin. And Rhaegar was stunned- horrified into silence, as he realised that there indeed had been an heir of Slytherin when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and Myrtle Warren- a ghost now- had been killed.

Tom Riddle had done it. He had indeed done it. And Rhaegar had somehow always sensed- somehow had this intuition- that Tom had been connected to the murders, because he had immediately came up with a 'culprit'- Hagrid, right after Dippet announced that the school might be closing down if the murders did not stop. Rhaegar had found it too suspicious. And Dumbledore had to. But he could not connect Tom Riddle to the murders with actual concrete evidence. No one could.

And didn't Athelinda say that he had given her a locket with an S set in emeralds? Emeralds- Slytherin's colour. S- the Slytherin mark.

"No," he breathed.

That was impossible and yet…

It was. Slytherin's line was very old. If they had somehow, miraculously survived yet continued their custom of intermarriage as the centuries went by, of course the defects both mental and physical would have gotten worse. They may have been unstable enough- like Marvolo- to squander their family fortune.

This was by far, not good. If Voldemort was indeed the heir to a sorcerer by the likes of Salazar Slytherin, he would have inherited powers beyond the ordinary wizard, no matter if all the gold had gone. But how far? And to what extent?

Yet another horrifying thought entered him: Sigurd. Voldemort knew he was going to have a powerful son- thanks to Athelinda's foolish use of her rare power. Sigurd would have inherited those powers. And Voldemort would never rest until he had claimed the boy as his own- his heir- to continue the bloodline and to do his bidding. Side by side. Father and son. The mother too, if he had her. Nothing would stand in their way.

White now, Rhaegar searched the remainder of the file. Marvolo had been making incomprehensible noises to his son and daughter. His son was talking back. It was during this so-called conversation that a Muggle had strolled by. A young Muggle man whom Ogden had later bumped into. A dark-haired Muggle- the same one, they realised, that Morfin had attacked. Morfin made noises that sounded like hissing. And Rhaegar could bet a hundred Galleons that they were communicating in Parseltongue. And Marvolo had suddenly looked very sharp. Ogden claimed that he had gone very still. And dangerously quiet. He hissed something to his daughter, who had turned stark-white and was shaking her head as terrified as could be.

Then, Marvolo attacked. He lunged, his hands aiming for his daughter. Ogden had cried out and cast a Revulsion Jinx that made the man fall backwards. Morfin had reacted in rage and began brandishing a knife and several hexes at Ogden who had to flee, but returned with reinforcements no later than fifteen minutes.

Horrified, stunned, shell-shocked, Rhaegar just stood there, absorbing what this young woman the mother of his arch-nemesis had gone through in her life. And he knew how it ended. Athelinda had told him that when Tom Riddle Senior discovered his wife was a witch, he had promptly left her. And she had been pregnant by the time she had been living on the streets and stumbled into Wool's Orphanage. Only God knew where she was buried.

Rhaegar closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the sense of horror (there it was again) and pity that he felt for Merope and for, surprise as it was, Tom Riddle Junior. He had ignored the boy in his earlier Hogwarts years, believing him quite capable of taking care of himself as a young student. It certainly seemed so. He did not appear bullied, and Rhaegar always kept a sharp eye towards other students back then. And Rhaegar had judged and loathed him so quickly. Now he knew why the boy was what he was. And he was ashamed not to have looked into this sooner. And there was the realisation that Voldemort and Merope Gaunt might have been one in hundreds, if not thousands, if not millions, of people who lived like this and ended the way they did. And nobody knew. And nobody cared.

Rhaegar closed his eyes.

If only things could be different. And only now was Rhaegar ashamed to look back at his background as well as judging Tom Riddle so quickly (though murder was not an excuse). Beyond his time as one of the Children of the Endless Night, Rhaegar had been unbelievably fortunate. Unimaginably wealthy. No need to work, yet they gained more than enough money investing in various shares. And he was a high-ranking commander. He was raised with all the love and warmth a child could possibly dream of. He was raised surrounded by luxury that was almost unimaginable, even to most of the wealthiest Pure-blood families in the world. Holidays overseas, exploring Muggle and Magical Culture all throughout the world. He had sampled delicious cuisines, experienced warmth and hospitality, seen sights and learned remarkable stories from people throughout the globe. The Americas, Europe, Asia, Africa, and to an extent, Oceania. In Wizarding Britain you would be hard-pressed to find a Chinese, French or any other culture's cuisine for sale. Or anything else. As a son of two exceptionally skilled mages, Rhaegar and his siblings came to Hogwarts with an advantage over their fellow students. They had started learning everything early. And he had tutoring. His marks never slipped past Outstanding, or rarely, an Exceeds Expectations.

While Tom Riddle, an orphan boy, abandoned by his father, had to start from scratch.

And now Rhaegar was ashamed. But he still had to stop him.

What happened to the Riddles, Marvolo and Morfin?

Rhaegar learnt that Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt was arrested and tried by the whole Wizengamot. For bodily assault and resistance towards Ministry Officials as well as a record of Muggle attacks made by the son Morfin. Morfin was sentenced to three years, while Marvolo received six months in Azkaban. Marvolo reportedly died not long after his return. Morfin remained at the cottage until 1943. That was when- and Rhaegar felt a tingle as he learnt this- the entire Riddle family that included the brother-in-law that Morfin never accepted, were found dead. The Avada Kedavra curse. On Mr and Mrs. Thomas and Mary Riddle as well as their son Tom. Shock on their faces. The Ministry arrested Morfin Gaunt who gleefully admitted to the charge. He even boasted of it. However, he also kept mumbling something about his ring. Rhaegar scanned the earlier file on mention of a ring. There it was. Along with the locket. Another Horcrux thing? He thought. It was Marvolo Gaunt's. And it was said to have belonged to the Peverell family.

Peverell. An ancient Pure-Blood line. Very ancient and very powerful in its day. Supposedly dead in the male line for very few women- witches or Muggles- passed on their surnames to their children. Rhaegar breathed deeply.

He had a lot to tell Dumbledore.

And then he had to find a way to find and stop Voldemort. Before anything more happens.

And Voldemort was now starting to target his family.

Alarissa couldn't stop pacing.

She knew she needed to sit down and rest. But she could barely manage to make herself sit.

And then Rhaegar appeared.

She was in Hogwarts. He embraced her tightly and kissed her passionately. But he needed to see Dumbledore.

Rhaegar presented Dumbledore with copies of the files.

Dumbledore read them, his eyes widening.

Rhaegar breathed deeply.

"Voldemort is the heir of Salazar Slytherin," he said flatly.

Dumbledore looked up. "Yes."

Silence.

"It could only have been him." Rhaegar spoke. His eyes were anguished. "The Chamber of Secrets, Slytherin's heir… I knew something was off when he immediately came up bearing a 'culprit' right after Headmaster Dippet said that they were likely to close the school. A culprit with little real evidence against him. I didn't know how, or even if the Chamber of Secrets story was real, but I thought… As crazy as it seemed…."

"I know," Dumbledore said darkly.

"And seeing where he grew up… That orphanage. The Riddle and Gaunt families, Merope…" He shook his head in pain. Alarissa looked sombre.

"If only we knew," he said quietly. "Why was he left in that orphanage? Why did no one try to help that girl- Merope? Would things be so different if they had been better?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He removed his half-moon spectacles. "I cannot say for certain. But I do believe there might have been a chance if, yes, things had been different."

Rhaegar swallowed. "What about Athelinda? Did he… Did she actually mean something to him? Did it damage him further, when she ran away from him taking their unborn child?" He felt silly for asking this, but he needed to know for certain.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "I do not believe," he said. "That Tom Riddle- otherwise known as Voldemort- would ever choose to love. In fact, I do not believe him completely- if not partially- capable of loving someone other than himself. I had seen and observed Tom Riddle throughout his school years. I taught him. I saw him surrounded by students. They were a mix- the weak who sought protection with the bigger, stronger students. The ambitious who sought glory by standing by his side. And the thuggish, who sought more refined methods of cruelty. And although they might boast, I do not believe they had ever been close enough to be his friends. Merely followers."

Rhaegar looked at him. "But Athelinda… I believe, as strange as this sounds, that Athelinda was the only one he ever truly opened his heart to. Could Voldemort, or Tom Riddle love? Perhaps not, but he came close, very close.

"She intrigued him," Dumbledore continued. "And fascinated him. Her skill, beauty, obvious high intellect and talent, combined with her knowledge, her driven ambition and how obviously set apart she was from her fellow students, Athelinda presented a fascination, an intrigue, a promise of power and mystery in her veins, that he did not perhaps envy, but was drawn to nonetheless. She was set apart even from you and your brother and sister in that day. And her reputation grew in Riddle's eyes. She was far too much to let go, and by that time, he had developed a burning fascination, obsession and even infatuation perhaps, with her. Athelinda wasn't simply powerful, beautiful, intelligent, talented and wealthy. She was power itself. And nothing is more alluring to Voldemort or Tom Marvolo Riddle than power. She had the highest prospects and chances at everything, a person of her birth and privilege. Yet she was not interested in such matters, but thirsted for more. It was a feeling of partnership and kindred spirit in the beginning, as well as mutual affection and passion. But it eventually grew to ownership in the end. She was his prize possession."

Rhaegar turned away, sickened by the truth in his words. He remembered how Athelinda had been in those years. He remembered he had not been much better- at least not in his eyes.

"Athelinda's son, Sigurd," he said slowly. "Will have inherited powers from his mother and him. Not to mention… Her prophetic words…" He scowled. "She will always regret them. And I cannot fault her for that."

"No," Dumbledore agreed. "Where is the boy now?"

Rhaegar looked at Dumbledore in the eye again. "Safe." He said. "I would never let them go unless I was certain. We both know Tom Riddle. I did not know how he came to be this way until today, but I have always known how he operates. And how he thinks." Dumbledore nodded.

"You intend to go after him," he remarked. Rhaegar felt his face draw into a scowl. "I was forewarned that another is the one to defeat him. But I cannot lie idle."

"No," Dumbledore stood. "Neither can you risk yourself. Your family is targeted now. Voldemort- if he does not already know- will suspect your line is of the Pendragon line," Rhaegar struggled not to roll his eyes. "He will also be searching for revenge."

"And in his eyes, I am the one who turned his wife against him, and taught his son- and potentially powerful heir- that he is a monster," Rhaegar said flatly.

"I knew about the Gaunts," Dumbledore said suddenly, causing Rhaegar to look up at him, startled.

"You… Knew?!"

"Knew, yes, but I could not understand the connection between Voldemort and Slytherin. Although I do know that they were Parselmouths. There is more to the story of Merope and Tom Riddle than I thought. And Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt."

"I heard that name before," Rhaegar said, frowning. "I just can't recall, where-"

"Ilvermorny," Dumbledore said shortly. Rhaegar looked puzzled. "The North American school?"

"The founder was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." Dumbledore replied. "Her infamous aunt and her mother were Gaunts."

Rhaegar looked more puzzled. "It doesn't make any sense," he muttered. "Every story I heard- about the Founders… Some people even said they were myth. Salazar Slytherin… Up until the Chamber of Secrets opened, no one said a single bad thing about him. And then some people are saying he was a Pure-Blood Supremacist. And targeting Slytherins as they do so."

Dumbledore's face darkened at that. "Yes." He agreed.

"But there is no actual concrete evidence that he wanted Muggle-Borns and Muggles dead," Rhaegar protested. "Even Voldemort might just be deluded. Back in those days, witch-burnings, hangings, trials and drownings were common. They even mistook some Muggles themselves for doing those things. Slytherin would not have been alone in being suspicious. Or cautious if he wanted to see if the Muggle-Borns were truly ready to come into this world- which back then, would have meant them leaving the Muggle world for fear of persecution- even from the families that they love. It could not be easy, it could even be traumatising as well as conflicting. But the Founders of Hogwarts- all of them- as I mentioned that year, were not stupid. They would have known- the other three what Slytherin was doing. A chamber in the castle… A monster. They were four of the most powerful mages of the day. And Slytherin himself trained Merlin who treated Muggles and wizards as the same…"

"Who knew what Slytherin was and what he did? The past is in the past, Rhaegar. The more distant it is, the more clouded by the mists of time. Leave it be. Slytherin is not Voldemort and Voldemort is not Slytherin. Whatever he believes, Voldemort cannot truly justify his actions, no matter what has been done to him. He must find a means to gather his followers to him. In fact, I do not believe that Pure-Blood supremacy means as much to him as his own power."

"He just needs followers," Rhaegar realised. "They may or may not know about his Muggle heritage. He doesn't care. He might want Muggles and Muggle-Borns gone, but…"

"In his heart, power will always be his greatest love apart from himself," Dumbledore said firmly. "Even your sister will be hard-pressed, if ever, to reach that."

"Voldemort will strike soon," Rhaegar warned. Dumbledore nodded. "He's infiltrated the clan. And he's onto the Avantadors. If they find…"

"I know." Dumbledore looked very grim now.

"If what we've guessed and found out is true, then Voldemort would already have enormous powers at his disposal." Rhaegar stated. "And he won't stop there. He'll recruit with the promise of Pure-Blood Supremacy, or to unleash terror and death upon Muggles and Muggle-borns. We need more with us. And we need allies at our disposal- to stop him before he attacks. We don't even know the extent or his powers or more specifically what he can do."

Dumbledore sighed. He glanced at his pet phoenix.

"Merlin made an Order- the Order of Merlin," Rhaegar continued. "Back in its day, it wasn't an award for achievements, great or small. It was a gathering of wizards and witches devoted to fighting to save Muggles from harm or danger as well as each other. To keeping the peace between both communities." He shook his head. "Where has that gone now? Muggles are totally vulnerable. When Grindelwald came, he often took Muggles. Most Muggles ended up killed in action or in one of those abominable Nazi camps. But Grindelwald had camps of his own too. And we were vulnerable then. The only reason he didn't attack Britain, was because of you."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Yes," he said quietly.

"We need another order- like the first Order of Merlin. Not just armies that requires time to mobilise. The clan can't be here all the time- our country is in the continent. We need to fight this evil."

Dumbledore opened his eyes and kept gazing at his phoenix. It stopped and looked up, regarding him with its shiny black eyes.

Then Fawkes- who had reached a burning day, caught fire.

Dumbledore was unperturbed and Rhaegar- and Alarissa who sat quietly all this time in the background observing and listening- watched.

The small conical pile of ashes lay there, for a few moments undisturbed.

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "We must revert back to what we were before at that time. Not just achievements of our own, but as a community. We need to rise up. The former Order of Merlin, the Knights of the Round Table are all gone. But sometimes," he stood. "Things may rise again from the ashes."

As if on cue, a baby phoenix burst its tiny head through the pile of ashes, and began squawking in its renewed life.

It was the beginning of something renewed.

Rhaegar looked around him. He had gathered very few people whom he could trust. They were small. And not all of them were clan members. There were one or two from other Atlantean clans who had been alarmed and Rhaegar had told them about the culprit. It was too dangerous to tell anyone else about Voldemort's origins. Voldemort would react badly to someone that gave hints of knowing about his unwanted past.

A number came from the Wizarding community in Britain. They were very few, but they were a start.

"I have told you the names of those I know to be involved," Rhaegar began slowly. "And both Dumbledore and I know who the culprit is for certain. But we must be careful. There may be many more. And the Volsung clan has been infiltrated. My guess is that Voldemort has infiltrated the other clans- if not, then it is still too risky and he will infiltrate them soon enough." He looked at each and every single one of them in the eye.

"We are in grave danger, more danger than we can imagine," he began slowly. "This is not like Grindelwald. He might have reached the heights of history, but even Gellert Grindelwald had his limits to what he wanted to do including Dark Magic." Rhaegar breathed deeply. "Voldemort intends on doing more. He is concerned with his own power and blood purity comes next. Nothing else matters, not any life; Muggle, Muggle-born, Half-Blood, Magical Beings of all races, Squibs or even Pure-bloods. He would trample all in his way, seek to consume and destroy them with dark magic. This person has no limits. And though he is young, he has already experimented so deeply with dark magic that I cannot even comprehend what will happen if he gains possession of an army." Rhaegar took a deep breath.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said quietly. "This will be the most important fight of our lives. No matter how long it lasts."

They absorbed all this, some of them veterans in the war with Grindelwald, and prepared for what needed to be done.

Katerina closed her eyes.

"I take it the talk with Rhaegar didn't go so well?" Andreas asked gently.

"He knows," she murmured quietly. "And he'll never forgive me."

"Did he say that?"

"No," Katerina looked up despairingly at him. "But I could tell."

"You're not a seer, Katerina," Andreas replied as he sat down beside her.

"If you've told him the whole story, then he will understand," he said after a while. "He loves you and that will not change."

"He loves us all," Katerina said looking sadly at him. "But I failed them all. Athelinda... She walked out on us and into his arms, because we did not see clearly what she was experiencing; the problems at that time. I even failed her as a baby, allowing her to be taken like that. It's a miracle the Mother Naga ever gave her back to us. Willamar... He'll never leave his grief. His heart will always be broken for the rest of his life. His spirits will never lift again. Philomena... I allowed her to have her own way, to become foolish. She made the same mistake as I did- as Athelinda did. Right into his arms. I hate him. Him and his family. And Rhaegar..." She trailed off.

"During that terrible time... I thought about all what he was experiencing. All the suffering, all the pain, horror and torture... That was done to him. Our son. He was so small then," She was breaking down now. "And he was beaten, tortured, magically or not, starved, forced to kill, beaten with hot irons or barbed whips for the smallest displeasure he gave them. Or the Cruciatus Curse. Are you telling me I haven't failed, Andreas? In keeping my children safe? Because we have no excuse for what happened to Rhaegar. None at all."

Andreas' face was more aggrieved now, and he embraced her and held her close. The best thing was that they taught their children well. But protect them... He couldn't deny, in that regard they were failures for parents.

Katerina sniffled, and wiped her eyes.

"I can't make excuses for either of us," Andreas said carefully. "But I want you to know that I was just as responsible for these children as you were. And while we all know that our decisions affect the future, there are some things that are inevitable. Rhaegar did not die in the Children of the Endless Night. Instead he grew stronger than ever. He grew more courageous. He survived the worst of the worst. He grew more intelligent, more bold, more strong and braver than we could have ever moulded him ourselves. We would both give our lives for him and the rest of them. But Rhaegar will never need that. Why? Because I believe he is meant to shine brighter than the brightest star. He may or may not defeat this Voldemort-" Katerina flinched for some reason- "by himself. But he will most certainly make sure the world and Voldemort knows his name by the time their end has come. He will save and protect more people than we can ever possibly count or imagine, and Rhaegar will be there, standing at the end of this, when the end has come and all has fallen. They all will."

Katerina was silent.

"And Sigurd?" She asked. "And Rhaegar's unborn child?"

"Their destiny has yet to be forged," Andreas said cautiously. "But they will shine and make it through this storm. I know they will."

They stared into the fire just beginning to burn at its strongest now.

There were so many. So many followers. And attacks.

The first attack had come. In East Britain. Fires burned and raged. A terrible storm had fallen.

Weeks past while Dumbledore gathered as many fighters and allies as he possibly could. So did Rhaegar. He did everything to mobilise the clan but he did not dare approach Kataris. Not now he knew it had been infiltrated.

Several bridges fell. Storms came and went. News went by. The Muggles were living in a state of fear, in Britain, Ireland and the continent.

They couldn't understand why these freak storms, hurricanes, tornadoes- of all things- earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, wildfires and much more were happening. They couldn't count for the number of people that went missing or somehow ended up dead. Mysterious illness- a pandemic? Why did some people look or end up in shock? Why did they end up dead, from a house that was locked on the inside, when it did not look like gas leakages had occurred or anything out of the ordinary?

Meanwhile in the Wizarding world, people were going crazy. The Ministries had been tasked with keeping everyone calm, and the Muggles from finding out. But people there were freaking out as well. Now, masked men and women in black appeared out of nowhere, and they were destroying, demolishing, abducting, torturing and murdering anyone. Down to the last child. And always once, they had done so, the shrieks of glee that a few made, were nothing compared to the mark they always conjured up in the sky, every time they appeared and disappeared. Every time they killed or brutally maimed someone with Dark Magic.

But in the meantime, things got worse. Reports of tortures, quick and casual murders, mutilations and uses of Dark Magic the likes anyone had never seen before appeared along with the attacks. The few witnesses to such things needed serious treatment for what they had just heard. Much less the ones that actually witnessed these things and those that experienced those. These people left some alive, though beyond any normal measure of sanity, that screamed and spread rumours and stories like wildfire. Most of them were exaggerated possibly due to their terror. But they remained locked in Saint Mungo's reportedly, for life. People heard them screaming all the way, and saw what had been done to them by these people.

Healers in Saint Mungo's whispered that they had never seen such Dark Magic before. The Aurors too reported likewise. And so these reports went wild, often exaggerated. Fear, terror, dark magic usage and more news cropped up. Their attacks came without warning. Dark magic beyond anyone's worst imagining. Soon word got out. Despite the goblins staying on the wizard's side- more or less neutral- many left. Vampires, werewolves, Inferi, all manners of dark creatures and some giant tribes that rose up and in favour of these people. Dark wizards and witches, dark creatures assembling an army or armies put together, that included mass armies of inferi. And that they were being attacked- people were being attacked anywhere. And all their victims became inferi.

They attacked here and there and everywhere. They had yet to seen full-scale war as the Ministry hesitated to declare war, since the Global Wizarding War.

Soon reports and sightings,. And more news came up. Worse things. More things happening. People being targeted out of random, and for unknown reasons. It was more here than on the continent. But it was spreading. Dark magic beyond anyone's twisted use, cropped up and consumed anyone who wasn't even anywhere near it. Rumours of people disappearing late in the night. Finding houses destroyed demolished. Stories about people coming home to see their houses had that mark cast up above them. What they found inside...

The Dark Mark now hovered above entire cities.

Stories about people who had been released by them, more mutilated and beyond repair by use of Dark Magic. All in the name of a Dark Lord named Voldemort. To sow the fear and terror until it became unbearable.

Stories that made the fear rise so high it really was unbearable.

Sightings of dark creatures beyond anyone's means.

Everywhere. There was no one that didn't know anyone who had been murdered, tortured, kidnapped, or damaged for life.

And more. Someone told of the person daring to say Voldemort's name out loud in a village. The Death Eaters were lying in wait, with powerful dark magic at their disposal. So powerful and terrifying that no one dared to speak about it. A man said the name casually and that was their sign to attack.

There was no way to know where they would strike next and from. Why or how.

Rhaegar was right. Not even Grindelwald had ever gone as far as this.

The problem was that Rhaegar, Dumbledore and whoever stood with them did not have that much time. Rhaegar and Dumbledore were already doing whatever they could to keep the goblins happy and from joining the group that Voldemort had assembled.

Rhaegar had been enraged. He gathered as many people as he could- not just clan members- and began training them. Members of Atlantean clans, ordinary wizards and witches from all over Europe and Asia. Even Aurors from the Ministries. Rhaegar had them all lined up and trained as hard as they could. His aim to create an elite fighting force more than capable of dealing with this threat. Since the Ministry refused to acknowledge that it was going to last. And that this was a Dark Lord, and they were at war. Ordinary peacekeepers and Dark Wizard catchers weren't going to be enough. They needed warriors. And allies.

Goblins. Fey. Centaurs. Giants. They liked Dumbledore.

But it wasn't enough. Rhaegar knew the signs of all this- Voldemort had been planning this in years. Probably even when he was still in school.

And far worse things happened.

29th May 1953...

"Reports are coming in fast. I know that there is infiltration everywhere, they have made that clear, but I don't believe that it is everyone!" Rhaegar snapped.

Bartemius Crouch wrote things down eagerly.

"The fact is that we need allies. It's no use trying to say that this will be brief when no necessary measures have been taken. We do not need more peacekeepers- they are beyond reason. As for Dark Wizard catchers, not even they are enough! We need allies and we need soldiers. Can anyone deny that they have seen anything like this even during Grindelwald's reign of terror?"

There were mutterings of agreement, the clicking and flashing of photographers and shouts of agreement coming from the witnesses.

Rhaegar stood in the Ministry of Magic, a political debate in front of the International Confederation of Wizards and representatives of the Atlantean Clans. Faced with opposition from the Ministry in Britain- who seriously doubted- being too afraid- that there was serious need to acknowledge the need for soldiers not peacekeeping Aurors, and those that merely capture and herd the criminals to Azkaban- Rhaegar faced more opposition. From various Ministries and MACUSA and even members of his own clan, much less other clans. Reporters eagerly wrote everything down, whilst a man named Bartemius Crouch who had now worked his way up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was writing and listening devotedly to every word Rhaegar said.

"Can any of you deny that in the last months what you have heard, seen and felt from and for yourself, your family or anyone else, compares to what you have felt during Grindelwald's reign of terror? You have seen the images- the victims, the survivors who may not be considered completely lucky, and we have heard testimony from those who have fought and Healers who have tended to the injured. This is like no other threat we have ever faced before. And things will only get worse. We can unite, or we may fall."

There was a round of applause.

People were applauding them. Rhaegar didn't want this. He didn't want to be the one to herd them into war. Open war. or guerrilla warfare. But if he didn't do it...

He needed to get things done.

And there was the matter of Sigurd and Athelinda. He knew Voldemort would be hunting for them. He had no doubt they would be safer in New Zealand living amongst the magical or Muggle community. It was on the other side of the world, even farther than Australia and too cut-off from the conflicts and dangers from other countries, especially the ones in the Northern Hemisphere. Not to mention that the New Zealand Ministry of Magic had censored, screened and did much more to anyone entering the country and kept track on those that left. They also censored and kept track of all forms of transportation and communication- Muggle or Magical- and Athelinda reported- through the use of the Atlantean Mirrors which could not be traced.

She told him that Sigurd was happy there though he missed his family. Rhaegar knew that Sigurd had to return to Britain to be educated in Hogwarts. First off, because he was born a citizen of Great Britain and Rhaegar wanted him to have all the benefits he could gain especially with his family there to oversee and tutor him. Oh, he was certain New Zealand had schools of magic that were more than fully capable and Athelinda could do everything herself anyway. But Rhaegar knew that they could not shield Sigurd forever as that would make him vulnerable. But for now, he wanted his nephew to have the full experience of a happy, idyllic childhood, untroubled by war or that monster.

If only this direct family including his unborn child, could do the same.

Alarissa was getting bigger, it definitely showed that she was pregnant now. The baby was due in July. It was getting harder and harder to keep mother and child safe and secret. Rhaegar and everyone, witch, wizard, House Elf or Fey used whatever they could to conceal them and keep them safe. But Alarissa insisted that Rhaegar be there for the birth.

It would not be easy. But Rhaegar felt he owed the child that much.

Rhaegar kept pressing things on. He was sure they would bend. They had no choice to. The public pressure was enormous. And the Minister for Magic Wilhemina Tuft was presiding over a period of peace and prosperity, which she was used to, they needed to step up measures. And to make allies instead of offending every magical creature, being or beast that they could find and trying to subjugate them under completely human laws.

He just had to be careful every step of the way.

And now Voldemort knew their secret. He was sure of it.

Voldemort knew the secret of the Artrigos family.

Rhaegar left them to debate things out, irritably wishing he could drift off. Alarissa. His unborn child. His thoughts and dreams were about her constantly as well as his worries and fears.

No matter what these people said, they could not afford to wait any longer.

They needed to act now. And Rhaegar was planning something for that night.

Ugh! I'm so sorry! I accidentally deleted part of this, the one that summed up Voldemort's rise to power and prominence through terror, and I had to sum it up. I don't think it's as good though. For those of you that are reading this (somehow) but don't follow on all news on J.K Rowling, Ilvermorny is the North American school and its founder was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and the Irish witch Morrigan. I admit I just couldn't resist putting that in here! And MACUSA is the Magical Congress of the United States of America. I'm sure you'll see it in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

And yes! I know that Voldemort's rise to power was in the sixties, mainly but here, I'm making him go on in the decades. What had he been doing all this time- only planning?