Heir of the Dark Lord
Chapter 13: Heir of the Dark Lord
Silence filled the room.
The glow of the parchment had dimmed, but its words burned in Harry’s mind as if they had been etched into his very soul.
He stared at the newest line, his breath caught in his throat.
Cassia was still. Too still. Her grey eyes flicked rapidly across the words, but her expression was unreadable.
Ragnok, however, remained impassive. Cold. Unmoved.
Finally, the goblin spoke.
"Lily Potter was born Lillian Gaunt, last of the Gaunt family bloodline, making her the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However," his silver gaze sharpened, "what is absent from the records is her true paternity."
Harry’s hands clenched. He couldn’t breathe.
"Her mother, Persephone Gaunt, was already pregnant when she was forced into an arranged marriage," Ragnok continued. "But her true father—the one whose blood runs through your veins—was not her supposed husband."
The parchment shimmered one last time, and a name appeared beneath Lily Potter’s.
Father: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
A cold, sharp pain lanced through Harry’s chest.
Tom Riddle.
Voldemort.
Harry’s mind went blank. His entire body felt numb.
This was a joke. This had to be a joke.
He couldn’t be—
No.
No.
He shoved his chair back, staggering to his feet. His heart pounded violently against his ribs.
"This—this is wrong," he whispered, shaking his head. "It has to be wrong."
Cassia slowly stood as well, her gaze locked onto him. "Harry—"
"Don’t—" His voice shook.
Ragnok, unfazed, simply clasped his hands together. "The blood test does not lie, Lord Potter."
Lord Potter.
Lord Gaunt.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing ragged. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t—
But deep down, in the part of himself that had always felt other, the part that had never quite belonged, he knew.
The whispering voice in the back of his mind, the one that had always told him he was different.
The way Parseltongue had come so naturally.
The way the world had always expected him to be something more.
Harry gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He was Voldemort’s grandson.
Cassia’s Realization
Cassia’s mind was working rapidly.
She had suspected something was off when she first saw the Gaunt name tied to Lily Potter, but this—this was bigger than anything she could have imagined.
Voldemort had a direct heir.
And worse, he didn’t even know.
She studied Harry carefully. His breathing was shallow, his shoulders rigid with tension. He looked like he was about to either collapse or explode.
Cassia had seen people break under pressure before.
Harry wasn’t breaking.
But he was cracking.
And if she didn’t say something soon, he might shatter completely.
She took a slow, deliberate step toward him.
"Harry."
He flinched. His fists clenched. His breathing turned sharper.
Cassia’s voice was calm, steady, anchoring.
"This doesn’t change who you are."
Harry let out a short, bitter laugh. "Doesn’t it?" His voice was tight, strained. "I’m related to him, Cassia. To Voldemort."
She didn’t flinch at the name.
"Yes," she admitted. "But that’s not what makes you you."
His jaw clenched. He was still struggling, still fighting some invisible war in his own mind.
Cassia took another step forward. "You are still Harry Potter. You are still the boy who got himself out of Privet Drive. The boy who didn’t hesitate to come here and uncover the truth. The boy who—" she smirked slightly, "—who looked me dead in the eye and asked if he should be worried about me cursing him."
Harry exhaled sharply. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.
Cassia tilted her head. "You are not your bloodline, Harry. You are what you choose to be."
For a long moment, Harry just stared at her.
And then, finally, he let out a shaky breath.
He was still pale, still shaken. But his eyes—those bright green eyes—held something firm, steady.
He wasn’t going to let this define him.
Cassia nodded, satisfied. "Good."
Harry swallowed hard and turned back to Ragnok. His voice was rough, but strong.
"What else?"
Ragnok’s lips curled slightly. "There is still more to discuss."
Cassia crossed her arms. "Let’s hear it, then."
The goblin tapped the parchment, and the final hidden truths began to reveal themselves.
And whatever was coming next—Cassia had a feeling it would be just as world-shattering.