Zia walked, for the second time, to the front of the Riddle House. It was still stern looking, but something about it was slightly different. Tom Riddle Senior's dinner invitation had been a surprise, but after consideration she'd decided to accept. It had been more of a surprise when the dinner invitation was extended to the 'friend' she'd mentioned moving in nearby as well. Little Tom would be with Nana Mary and Papa Charlie for the evening. She may trust his father more than she had before, but she still wasn't ready for father and son to reunite.

"So this is the muggle that is Tom's father, correct?" Regulus asked, keeping pace beside her. They'd decided that walking would be the best mode of transport, and both were wearing muggle clothes, but their wands were still on them.

"Yes. I told you about the deal I made with him earlier, and as far as I can see he's made a lot of changes for the better. I haven't caught any lies so far, but I'd like us both to watch him. I guess you could call this part of an evaluation," Zia answered. He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Caught any lies?" he repeated questioningly.

"Yes. As far as I've seen he hasn't been lying about any of this, and his behavior seems to be modified quite a lot. I can't think of any way that meeting earlier could have been a setup either, it's just not logical," she explained. Regulus nodded, looking as if he'd just discovered something interesting, but Zia couldn't see what he would have picked out of that.

"You and your people projects," Regulus commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zia shot a sour look over to him. He laughed.

"Well you rehabilitated me, it looks like you've had a similar effect on this muggle," he said bemusedly. "Although I admit he's worked harder than I. I had your supervision at least."

"I suppose you have a point," Zia responded.

"Of course I do," Regulus said with a chuckle.

"But all the same, we should still be on guard," she added. "Last time I was here it went...interestingly." Regulus raised one eyebrow, but said nothing further.

They reached the door and Zia grasped the silver doorknocker, rapping on the door three times. She was surprised when Tom Senior himself opened it. She was sure that the man he'd been the first time they met wouldn't have lowered himself to the task of opening a door. Her eyes narrowed slightly. This time, he'd known in advance that she would be there. She reminded herself to be on guard.

"I'm glad you could come," he said, offering his hand to her.

"Tom, this is Regulus Black. Regulus, this is Tom Riddle," Zia paused, then tacked on, "Senior."

"Pleasure to meet you," both said at the same time, shaking hands, then they both stepped apart again. Zia wondered what was going on in their heads. In a way, both men were on opposite ends of the same continuum. Tom was raised by a wealthy muggle family and was taught to look down on lower classes. Regulus was raised by a wealthy wizard family and taught to look down on lower classes. Tom started out hating people with magic. Regulus started out hating people without magic. Zia was between them on the spectrum, cheerfully accepting of both worlds, as well as between them physically as they scrutinized each other. After a tense few seconds, the two relaxed and Tom officially invited them in.

Tom led them into a different room than the last time Zia was there, and she saw that it was a magnificently set formal dining room. She'd never seen something so elaborate used for such a small dinner as this. Maybe for a special occasion, but never for a group of only three. He helped her into a chair and then gestured at Regulus to take the chair across from her, himself taking a seat at the head of the table. Both of them were probably much more used to dinners like this than she was, and she was feeling slightly nervous.

"So, you two are new to the neighborhood, are you?" came a voice from behind Tom. Zia looked up and saw Thomas Riddle, Tom Riddle Sr.'s father. The older man had the same aura of superiority that his son once had, and he didn't look pleased at what was sitting at his dining room table. He had many of his son's physical characteristics, simply pushed up to a more advanced age. A woman, with a similar attitude, came up and stood next to him, and Zia could only assume that she was Tom's mother.

"Really Tom, what have you been letting into our house lately? It's as if you've lost all sense of taste in people. Talking to the people from the village. Bringing things over to them. Playing with the filthy little indigent children. Now this?" the woman asked him. Tom was looking straight ahead, his fist clenched around the glass he held in his hand, knuckles turning white. Zia could see now what kind of upbringing he'd had that made him the way he was. His parents were horrible.

Glancing over, she saw Regulus staring very hard at the fork next to his plate. His hand twitched and she could tell that he was itching to go for his wand. She frowned. In one fluid movement she pushed her own chair back and glided gracefully to the two snobbish people berating them. It appeared she had far less patience with certain types of people than she thought.

"I don't believe in being insulted by anybody who doesn't at least know my name Mr. and Mrs. Riddle. I already know yours, so you two are currently at the disadvantage. Allow myself to rectify this situation. My name is Zia. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but at present it's not," she concluded, smiling cordially and holding out her hand. Both of them recoiled from her extended hand as if it was somehow diseased. Neither of the two men still seated at the dining table looked as if they were holding back the urge for violence any longer. Instead they both looked like two people eagerly awaiting the most important play of a Quidditch match.

"Our son really has been associating with the worst sort, Thomas," Mrs. Riddle whispered, not at all subtly, to her husband.

"Oh no, I'm pretty sure he was simply raised by the worst sort, if the way both of you are behaving now gives any indication of his overall upbringing. I haven't seen any sort of manners that I would expect from upper class citizens," Zia told them. Mrs. Riddle's mouth fell open indignantly, and she looked to her husband for support. Mr. Riddle looked over at his son, most likely expecting backup, but Tom looked as if it was taking every ounce of his willpower to not laugh. Zia felt somewhat guilty, behaving this way in someone else's home, but these two were the rudest pair of individuals she'd ever met. Some part of herself simply wasn't able to stop. They didn't have the decorum to greet their son's guests with even false manners.

"I don't think that there was anything amiss in the way our son was raised. He comes from an excellent family tree, he's never lacked anything. The only blight in his life came from no fault of his own, it was because of that poor little tramp. I've heard she's dead, and a good riddance to her. Even tried to lie to our son about being pregnant," Mr. Riddle spat at Zia. "And if by some horrific reality she was pregnant, there's no way that child could ever be welcomed into society such as ours. Probably would be born disfigured as well. I know I would never associate with a poor tramp like that, especially romantically, that's for sure." Zia's false smile widened with the effort it was taking her to keep her temper down. She was usually able to keep her calm, but the comments this man was making were a mistake on his part.

"You shouldn't speak about matters in which you're ignorant, sir," she said quietly. The man laughed.

"And you think you know more about it than I do?" he asked her.

"I know I know more about it than you do," she responded. "But in the end…I suppose I don't really care what you think. You're entitled to your opinions after all, no matter how false and ignorant they are in some respects." She was physically shaking with the effort to keep herself from slapping both of them hard enough to knock sense into them. Tom stood and pushed her back from them, his hand on her shoulder, placing himself between Zia and his parents.

"You throw these two vagabonds out, Tom," Mrs. Riddle said to him.

"I'm very disappointed," Tom said softly to his parents. "Here I have guests over, and the only thing you two have done is insult them. This girl isn't the kind to get worked up over anything but unkindness, and look at what you've done to her."

Zia hung her head, feeling very guilty as she calmed herself down. She didn't know why Tom was defending her, she'd been very rude to his parents after all, and in their own house. She replayed the conversation over in her mind. Suddenly, she snapped her head up to look directly into Mr. Riddle's eyes.

"Mr. Riddle," she began calmly. He turned a disgusted face towards her. "May I ask you a question?"

"You may ask one, in exchange for your leaving my house immediately," he responded.

"Why did you lie earlier?" she asked him, eyes fixed directly onto his.

"Lie? Me? About what?" the man asked her, immediately going on the defensive.

"You said you'd 'never associate with a poor tramp like that, especially romantically,'" Zia stated. "You lied."

"How dare you suggest such a thing? I repeat myself, I would never dirty myself with filth like that!" Mr. Riddle cried. Something strange was happening. Looking into Thomas Riddle's eyes, she caught images of what must be the Gaunt family. There was Marvolo, it must be. Then Morfin. The girl must be Merope. And then…

"Maybe not that generation. But you did go after her mother, didn't you? She was much prettier, it seems. I'd always wondered what happened to her," Zia murmured. Riddle's face froze with complete shock. His wife looked from him, to Zia, then back at her husband.

"Thomas? Thomas! The girl, she must be lying right? There's no way you would have-" she began, but her husband simply stared ahead, face draining of color.

"It appears I'm right. Well, I'll leave you to sort things out, and uphold my end of the bargain. Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle," Zia said, then turned and marched herself back out of the house. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but it had been strange. Shortly after she exited through the door, she heard footsteps following her.

"Zia! Wait for me!" Regulus' voice pierced through her thoughts. She looked back at him and saw that he was closely followed by Tom Riddle Sr.

"What on earth did you just do to my father?" Tom asked as he followed, both men walking faster to keep pace with her furious speed. "How did you know about him and the woman? I've never heard of anything like that before, how did you know?" Zia shook her head, unable to answer his question. She herself wasn't sure what had just happened.

"Allow me to explain," Regulus interjected, and both Zia and Tom turned towards him. "Think Zia. Have there ever been times where you just knew that someone was lying? Where you could just see right through them? Where you could get them to confess or at least expose the lies?" he asked her calmly. Zia paused. There had been the time when she was in the office after Tom got into a fight at school, and she'd been able to get the boys to say what had happened. What happened with Tom Riddle Sr. Then what had happened today. There were other instances, small ones, but she'd never paid much attention to it.

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with this," she said, not sure what was going on.

"Zia, although I don't really think she was aware of it, seems to have a natural talent for Legilimancy."