THREE

"The potion's almost finished, Father," ten year old Severus told Tom. He was in the lab, working on a cure for dragon pox. Abraxas was suffering from the illness, and Tom was desperate to keep the man alive. Things in the Ministry were going slowly, but without the eldest Malfoy there to keep things moving in the right direction, all of Riddle's plans would fall apart. "I only need another hour and it will be complete."

Severus had found the beginnings of the cure in one of the old Prince journals, and he had seen the flaw in his great many times over grandmother's recipe. So he tweaked it where necessary, and had a rat ready to ensure that the mixture wouldn't poison his honorary grandfather. Lucius was away at Hogwarts, in his second year in Slytherin, but he was having trouble concentrating. His fear for his father bled through every letter he'd sent home by owl. Hopefully, Tom would soon have good news for the young man.

"That's excellent news, Severus," Lord Voldemort, as he was known to the teeming masses, breathed out, a quick grin for his son. "I shall go upstairs and sit with him until you've finished." He strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time to give his friend the good news. Entering the room, he went to the bed and sat in the chair that stood beside it, watching Abraxas' chest rise and fall shallowly as he tried to fight off the disease.

Tom didn't know how long he sat there, staring at his friend with sorrow, but he jumped, startled, at the soft knock to the bedroom door. "Enter," he bade softly, eyes still on his dying friend. Severus made his way to the bed, a potions vial in his hand. He silently handed it to his father, watching with narrowed eyes as the tincture was given to the elder Malfoy.

There were a few tense moments as the pair silently watched the blond fight for every breath before, with a shuddering gasp, his grey eyes snapped open wide, his mouth open to take in great whooping breaths. The green hue to his skin began to recede, and the pustules to shrink. Abraxas subsided back to the bed, breathing much easier as his eyes met those of Riddle's. "Thank you, my Lord," he whispered weakly.

"Don't thank me, old friend," Tom told the other man, resting a hand on a trembling shoulder. "My son was the one to create the cure."

"Thank you Severus," Abraxas told the youth. "You have my eternal gratitude."

"You must thank Gunhilda of Gorsemoor," the potions prodigy said with a self deprecating smile. "She was one of my great many times over grandmothers, and she had started on the road to a complete cure. I only took her recipe and tweaked it a bit. I am just happy that it worked."

"Father?" the twelve year old said tearfully as he dropped into the chair by the bed. He had been informed of the recovery of his dad, and had flooed home immediately after his last class that day to spend the weekend with Abraxas.

"I am all right, son," the older man said, his voice much stronger. He still needed the weekend to make a complete recovery before tackling the issues that had come up at the Ministry. The cure was able to do what other attempts hadn't; the greenish tinge that clung to the skin had faded away, leaving only the pock marks with which to be dealt. Severus was in the process of developing a balm that would cure afflictions left behind after the diseases had been cured. "Severus has done a wonderful job of taking care of the disease, and, as soon as I am able, I intend to have the potion patented in his name, as well as providing the recipe to St. Mungo's so that they may deal with the occasional flare ups."

At that moment, Severus entered the room to check on his 'patient'. He was taken completely by surprise when Lucius jumped up from his chair and crossed the room, wrapping the younger boy in his arms and hugging him tightly. "Thank you so much, Severus," he whispered hoarsely. "I do not know how I will ever repay you, but I will do everything in my power to help you whenever you have need."

"I've met the most beautiful girl, Father," Severus said excitedly as he entered the villa. He and Tom had decided to take a vacation in France, since both needed to recuperate from the stress of finding a cure for dragon pox and healing Abraxas. The elder Malfoy jumped right back into the Ministry as soon as he was able, and was quickly righting the mess that had been left while he was ill. The balm that the young Riddle heir had created did wonders for the pockmarks to Abraxas' face, smoothing it out and banishing a fair few wrinkles in the process.

"Oh?" Tom queried with a grin. "And who was it to capture your oh so discerning eye?" Severus blushed at his father's gentle teasing before he answered.

"Her name is Lily Evans. I ran into her at the Eiffel Tower. Quite literally. I wasn't watching where I was going, and I knocked into her and her sister. I apologized, of course, then we got to chatting. She'll be going to Hogwarts next year, and she intends to save a seat for me on the Hogwarts express."

"I'm very happy for you, Severus," his father said after a moment. "I'm not familiar with the name Evans in any of the pureblood registries, though."

"That's because she is a muggleborn," the ten year old replied softly. "She's beautiful and brilliant. She has long auburn hair and the most enchanting emerald eyes I've ever seen. We intend to spend as much time together as possible. I hope you do not mind, but I've invited her over to the manor after we return."

"I would like to meet the young lady that has captured your heart so quickly," Tom told his son softly. "I am sure that she will be worthy of you."

"Father, I'd like you to meet Lily Evans," Severus said to the older man as he entered the floo room. "Lily, this is my father, Tom Riddle."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Riddle," the redhead said with a respectful bow of her head. Tom's eyes narrowed; he saw a trace of elven ancestry in the color of her eyes and the shape of her face.

"The pleasure is mine," he intoned with a nod. "If you do not mind, I'd like to have a heritage test done on you. I suspect you have elven ancestry in your family."

"Will...will it hurt?" she asked softly.

"Not at all," Severus answered. "I only need a drop of your blood to put into the potion that sits ready in my lab. We keep a stock of it on hand just in case we have issues with someone trying to claim common relations to us."

"Oh?" Lily queried curiously. "I wasn't aware that there are issues like that in the wizarding world. I know that the royals of Great Britain face imposters trying to steal from them, but I had no idea that it happens here."

"Inheritance theft and line theft are very serious crimes in the wizarding world," Tom told the young girl. "People are always trying to claim some sort of lofty ancestry, so that they may get their hands on inheritances or accolades. That is why we keep the potion stocked, so that no one may come and claim that they're related to us."

"Indeed, it's as I had suspected," Tom told the girl the following day. After spending all day with her, Severus had asked if she could stay the rest of the summer with them. Tom saw no problem with it, and, after consulting with the Evans', Lily was given permission to stay with them. She was given her own suite of rooms, and was in awe at the luxury that was afforded her. "You are a descendant of the Evanwind clan of high elves. Either your mother or your father were born of squibs who had come from this ancestry."

"So...so I'm not actually a muggleborn," she said quietly.

"We've been discovering that there are no such things as muggleborns," Severus told his friend with a grin. "It's not possible for two completely muggle people to have a magical child. So, with research, we've discovered that all muggleborns are actually descended from magical lines that have either died out, or have changed their names and identities over the years. With the large numbers of squibs sent to the muggle world to live, it's a wonder that there aren't more magicals out there."

"There may very well be," Lily said thoughtfully. "I'll wager that many of them are unknown or hiding."

"I agree, Miss Evans, and we're trying to set up an oversight committee in the Ministry to watch out for them. Now, I can already tell that you'll be a powerful witch," Tom continued his earlier train of thought. "You have some rather deep magical reserves, which means that you'll be able to perform any magics without too much trouble. I do believe that you may be a mage of some sort."

"What is a mage?" she asked curiously. Tom grinned at her, excited to be able to teach this new witch about wizarding history.

"A mage is a specialized magical person," he began. The kids sat on a sofa while Riddle took the armchair in front of them. Both youngsters were hanging on his every word. Perhaps I should try and obtain a teaching position at Hogwarts, he thought idly. I could wear a glamour so that Albus does not try and deny me again. Aloud, he continued. "A mage is a person who has extraordinary magical skills in one or more disciplines. Whilst Masters are considered the pinnacle of magical talent, mages go far beyond that.

"They are able to use the magics of the earth in unprecedented ways, and have untold magical strength. I know that the Evanwind clan specialized in potions, and their abilities in the other disciplines far exceeded those of regular wizards. I daresay you will be seen as a prodigy when you attend Hogwarts."

"Th-thank you, Lord Riddle," Lily murmured blushing profusely. "My sister, Petunia, isn't magical at all, and she's been rather awkward since I received my letter. I think she even wrote to the headmaster, asking if she could attend classes with me. Unfortunately, since she is a...squib, did you say?" At Tom's nod, she continued. "Since she's a squib, she won't be allowed to go to school with me."

"It's not unheard of for two siblings from the same family to exhibit vastly different levels of magical ability," Severus told the girl with a smile. "I am sorry that she's not magically gifted as you are. That doesn't make her any less worthy or valuable to the magical world. She carries the genetic material in her DNA that will produce witches and wizards down the line, should she have any kids."

"I'm not sure that she'll see that as a good thing," the girl replied sadly. "I'm afraid that she'll go the complete opposite way. She's always been jealous of me because of my appearance, and the color of my hair."

"You've received the coloring and gamine features of the elves," Tom told the girl softly. "You cannot help or control how the DNA expresses itself. Unfortunately, human jealousy is a virulent thing, and I'm afraid that your abilities will most likely drive a wedge between yourself and your sister."

"You've had experience?" Lily asked curiously.

"I grew up in a muggle orphanage during World War two," Riddle answered softly. "Not only did I have the muggle bombs and planes to fear, but I also had to fear the bullies in the orphanage, who beat me up regularly because I was different. I tend to be a rather solitary person, and, until Severus tumbled into my life, I spent most of my time alone. The orphanage showed me the intolerance of human beings toward anything that was different. I fear that your sister will most likely go the same direction."