"Hey, Caden and Hermione are not up yet, right?" Harry asked Ginny and Ron, who were sitting in the main room of the Burrow the next morning. Ron, who had been staring into the fire with his arms crossed, looked up at him.

"Why?" He said through his teeth. Ron had made no effort to hide how much he loathed the fact Roland was now back, not that anyone blamed him.

Harry threw down the Daily Prophet that had been in his hands down on the coffee table. On the front cover were Stebbins and Zeller pushing away other photographers with Roland, struggling to get away and back to Hermione and Caden, who in the background. The title was written in large black letters about two inches high. As Harry reread the title, "Dark Lord's Brutal Son Discovered!", his eyes quickly darted over to the article.

Rita Skeeter, he should have known. The article was mainly about Roland's capture and his so-called twisted mind. She mention some things in the past he supposedly had done and using the picture above, she devised a clever story saying he was only back to destroy Harry, but found Hermione first. Harry had to admit he did look menacing in the photo at times. She did not even mention the speech about him Hermione gave earlier, although Rita Skeeter does mention Caden being Voldemort's grandson and questions why they did not capture him as well.

Ginny examined the article over Harry's shoulder. "You know, she only wrote that because Caden made her look like a fool."

"Yeah, but people reading this don't." Harry replied.

"She makes him sound like a monster," Ginny whispered.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances before giving her the same strange look. "How would you know? You haven't even met him." Ron told her.

"I know him well enough to tell you he wouldn't hurt anyone." Ginny snapped and left the room for breakfast.

Ron let out a sigh and looked back down at the newspaper. "Why did he have to come back, Harry? I mean, don't you think Hermione and I could've…?"

Harry did not say anything at first. He did not know Roland well enough to make any accusations about him. He was not sure what exactly Roland had done in the past as a Death Eater. He could have been behind a lot of the attacks, like that one that had taken place shortly after Harry had finished his education at Hogwarts. Roland could have helped Wormtail bring Voldemort back to life. He could have been the one that pulled what was left of Voldemort's body out of the wreckage before Hagrid arrived. He could have been the one that told Voldemort and Quirrel that the stone had been taken to Hogwarts in Harry's first year.

No one but Hermione knew Roland well enough to say with confidence that he was not involve with anything to do wit Voldemort's attempts to return to power. Maybe Voldemort had a good reason to try and kill Roland that Hermione did not know about. After all, she only knew what he told her. He could have been plotting to overthrow his father.

"I don't know, Ron," Harry said, getting back to his question. "But you've got to remember, there's still a trial. He might not be what Hermione thinks he is."

Ron's face brightened. "You think?"

He shrugged, "Just don't get your hopes too high, OK?" They got up from the couch they had been sitting on. Ron looked hopefully as he strolled into the kitchen, while Harry balled up the paper and followed him.

To their surprise, they found Caden sitting at the table. He was extremely pale and his eyes were red and puffy. He was staring at the plate in front of him and made no moves to grab the bacon that Mrs. Weasley had given him. Caden looked tired and his whole body was shaking more than it had been when he first arrived at the Burrow.

Ginny was sitting next to him and was trying to get him to eat something. "Come on, Caden. I thought you could never say no to a Weasley breakfast, or meal for that matter."

"I'm not hungry," he said quietly. "I ate enough last night."

She frowned at him. "Well, what about your mother? Do you think she's hungry?"

Caden shook his head. "She said she lost her appetite. Mama got the newspaper today and there was a picture of Daddy on the front."

The three exchanged glances. None of them knew that Hermione had received the paper each day. If they had, they might have been able to steal it from her before she read it. Caden picked up his fork and began to fiddle with the bacon strips and eggs.

"Who took that picture for Rita Skeeter anyways?" Ginny asked Harry and Ron suddenly. Ron shrugged and returned to his toast. Harry pointed to the waste basket where he had thrown the paper in. Ginny went over and dug it out. She returned to the table and smoothed it out.

"Oh, I should've guessed Colin." Ginny said to herself and went over to the fireplace. They heard her yell an address and then heard the flames erupt. There was complete silence for a few moments before they heard a small bang in the other room. Ginny returned with Colin Creevey, both covered with soot, and placed him down in one of the chairs.

Colin was still shorter than Harry, Ron, and even Ginny. His usually mousy hair was slightly darker and had bits of ash clinging to it. And, as usual, Colin was carrying a camera that was bigger than his head. He looked slightly afraid of Ginny as she returned to her seat and had her arms cross, but then he noticed Harry.

"Hi Harry!" He said excitedly. Colin was about to take a photo of him, but the look on Ginny's face told him otherwise. "I got a job for the Daily Prophet. It's not exciting as it was when I was working for you during the war, but still…"

"Speaking of which," Ginny shoved the Daily Prophet in his face. She pointed to the photo of Roland when he grabbed it from her hands and put it down in front of him. "Do you remember who this is?"

Colin's face fell and he slowly nodded. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten him." His head looked up from the paper to those staring at him. He then knew what this was all about.

"Listen, I just happened to be at the ball. I only brought my camera to take pictures for myself, I wasn't working. And then there was talk that he was here, and I wanted a picture. I was developing the photo when Rita Skeeter came to my house and asked for some of the photos. I wasn't even going to give her that one. She saw it, took it out of the tray, handed me a sack of gold, and left." He told them.

There was a silence that filled the air when Colin finished speaking. Caden had not been listening. It did not matter to him who took the photo. But those lies that had been printed made his blood boil. Colin looked over nervously at Ginny.

"You believe me, right?" He asked her. "Why would I want him to go to Azkaban? He helped us out in a way that I can't even repay."

Ginny nodded. "Sorry about that Colin. It's just that Hermione's been in her room all morning and we're beginning to get worried. And remember what happened with Dennis?"

"Ginny, I told you before I never really did blame him for Dennis's death."

She looked down at her hands on her lap. "It's just that you were so angry and upset when he died."

"Well, I'm sorry if I made it sound like I hated him afterwards. But I owe my life to him. If it weren't for Roland, I'd probably be dead too." Colin said.

He looked at each of them sadly, especially Caden. During Hermione's speech, she mentioned her son, but he never would have thought he looked so much like Roland. Even the way his hair fell into place was exactly the same as Roland's. And according to Hermione, the boy would have just met his father. He could not help but feel pity for him.

Colin got up from the table and tried giving Ginny and Caden a reassuring smile. "Hey, if he's still the same guy we met almost ten years ago, he'll be out of Azkaban in no time. Just you wait." He said and disapparated back to his house.

Ron looked from the place where Colin had been and over to Ginny. "What does he mean, 'the same guy we met almost ten years ago'? Do you know him?"

Ginny shrugged, "We've met. But I never knew his name before last night. Come on, Caden, you need to eat something before there's nothing."

"Why do you hate me?" Roland looked up and asked the sky.

He had not been gone for ten minutes and when he returned, his house was in ruins. The beautiful house that had taken him months to build was now nothing but a pile of black wooden frames and ash. Roland could see the forest and the small shed beyond the burnt ground where his house once stood. He curled his hand into a fist and kicked down the reminder of his front door in anger only to be rewarded with a cloud of ash that made him cough horribly.

Frustrated, angry, and tired, Roland marched over the fallen door and began to search to see if anything was left of his possessions. He found the picture of him and his uncle when he was four with the corner slightly burned off. Roland folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. He found his once-blue teddy bear under the broken frame of his bed and his blanket with it. Roland shrank them and put them in his pocket along with the picture. He was able to unearth several books, a spoon that had been melted but still useful, the pocket watch he had stolen from one of his father's Death Eaters, his father's old address book, and a cracked remembrall.

Once he had gathered whatever remained that would be useful, Roland hastily walked through the streets of the Muggle town his house had been built near. Even though the sun had already set, there were still people walking around. They all gave Roland an odd look as he passed by. He could not blame them for noticing how strange it was to see a 19-year-old covered in soot walking at a quick pace out of the town. They probably thought he was up to no good, or when they discover his home in the morning, they would think that he was the one who lit it on fire.

Roland was able to make it out of the town and into the forest with anyone trying to stop him. He made sure he was far from their earshot before he apparated to the outskirts of Little Hangleton. Roland knew that his family owned a few houses there. Perhaps he could spend the night in one as they both should be empty. Roland had no family on either parent's side. His father's parents both abandoned him, and whoever remained was killed. His mother's parents were long gone, as well as herself and her brother.

He took out the small address book. It did not have many entries and the handwriting was a bit difficult to read. The book was old and the pages were yellow. This had been his father's when he had just left school. Roland skimmed through some of the names, most of which were useless. He found the first one that seemed familiar, Gaunt, and quickly apparated near there.

When he arrived at the cottage, Roland frowned. The forest had pretty much taken it over. Vines and moss were covering the whole front of the house. Some of the vines even went through the windows. Thick weeds had grown in front of the door, which bits of a skeleton had nailed to it. A large tree branch had fallen through the roof and another tree seemed to be growing out of the house. Roland shook his head and quickly searched for the other address.

He apparated to an old mansion, which looked in much better condition than the cottage did. Its lawn was well taken care of and there were no skeletons on the door. But it looked as though the house itself had not been used in years. The windows were boarded up and a small layer of ivy grew on the house. Even some of the tiles from the roof were missing. But Roland was not going to complain. He was able to break in through a side door and crept inside.

It was dark inside the house. He could barely make out the outlining of the furniture in the hall he was in. Roland used his hands to feel around in the dark. He found a banister and began to climb up the stairs, assuming there were bedrooms up there. He found one with what seemed to be a rather large bed.

Roland took off his robes so he was only wearing a shirt with pants. He collapsed on the bed and let out a sigh as he pulled the sheets over him. He was too tired to care that the bed was old and probably filled with mold. The bed was still better than sleeping on the ground, he thought as he rolled over to one side. He was also too tired to care that someone, or something, had ripped the sheets off of him.

His eyes flew open and he bolted upright. He could feel something else beside him on the bed. Roland hesitantly felt around for the other figure next to him. He felt someone breathing on his palm as his fingers came in contact with what seemed to be like someone's nose. Roland yelped in surprise and fell off the bed with a loud thud.

At once, the room was filled with light when someone lit the fireplace across the room. Roland rubbed the back of his head and looked up at the bed from his place on the ground. He instantly recognized who had been next to him as they looked down from the bed and down at Roland. He glared at Peter Pettigrew and stood up to shake the dust off of himself.

"See, Wormtail? Even my son comes when he receives word that I'm back," a voice said from across the room.

Roland searched for the source and his eyes widened when he came face to face with his father. He felt his stomach flip over when he looked at him, disgusted. He knew his father had gone to great lengths to make sure no one could kill him, but this was too far. He looked like a pale, alien baby, whose parents even turned him away because he was so hideous. Roland looked away from his father's red eyes and looked at Pettigrew, wondering how he was alive.

"See, unlike you, Wormtail, my son came out of loyalty to his father," Voldemort snapped at him. "Isn't that right, boy?" Roland felt his eyes return to him.

He looked down at his feet and swayed from side to side, debating on whether or not to tell his father that he had not believe that he was back and just came here for shelter. Out of the corner of his eye, Roland noticed his Dark Mark almost as black as the ash where his house had been. There was no way out of it now, he thought.

Voldemort glared when his son took to long to answer. "What's your purpose here, boy? And tell the truth!" He hissed.

Roland let out a deep breath. "I… well, you see, my house burnt down." He muttered and avoided his gaze.

He heard his father growl and mutter something about him being worthless. Roland grabbed his robes that was still on the floor and put it back on. Obviously, he would not find sleep here. He glared at his father before turning to leave the room. He was almost at the doorway, when the door slammed close on his face and he stumbled back a few steps.

"I didn't say you could leave," Voldemort told him as Roland turned to look at him, while rubbing his forehead. "Why didn't you come when you knew I was back?" He demanded. "There was a huge article in the Daily Prophet about the Dark Mark during the Quidditch World Cup. Why didn't you bother to search for me?"

Roland could not help but roll his eyes. "I'm not going to be parading around England every time someone claims you're back." Roland told him hotly. "And it wasn't even you who did it. They mention Death Eaters only, not you." He growled.

"Besides, I thought I wasn't worthy to be in your presence." He added.

Voldemort was silent for a moment. "That was different. You were a child then, but now you're fully grown. I mean, look at you. You've got the build for an excellent Death Eater."

Roland lowered his guard for a moment. When he was younger, he did, at times, want to please his father in order for him to stop hurting him. For a moment, Roland actually considered forgiving him. He had never received a compliment like that from him before. But he shook his head and crossed his arms, remembering that his father only wanted him as a follower, not a son.

His father glared at him and gripped the wand that had been lying next to him. "You will join me again, Roland, right? IMPERIO!"

He felt as though he was on top of a soft cloud, although looking around, Roland knew he was no where near heaven. He heard his father's voice in his mind, ordering him to bow down and offer his services. Roland hesitated for a moment, but shook his head and refused to move. Before his father had lost his power, he had been under the curse so much that he was able to regain control of himself quickly.

"BOW DOWN!" Roland heard him scream inside his mind, but once again he refused. A sharp pain entered his mind, causing him to cry out and fall down to the floor. While his mind was so absorbed in caring for the pain, the voice came back and ordered him to bow again.

Roland slowly did as he was told and instantly the once-wonderful feeling left him. He heard his father laugh darkly as he stumbled to get up while clutching his forehead. He glared at him, and quickly opened the door to leave the room. Roland slammed the door closed behind him and rested against the door, breathing heavily from the curse that had been thrown at him.

"One day, Father, one day." He growled under his breath. The tattoo on his arm was darker than ever.