1 1

--Caddell Manor, Gloucestershire, England--26th August 1926--

Caddell's Ancestral home has not fared much better than usual. The atmosphere was tense, with no sound coming from any family member. The only sounds filling the air were the knives and forks used as the three members of Caddell's most ancient and noble house ate.

Atticus Cyrus Caddell, Lord of their House, was there. Anyone who looked at him could tell he wasn't interested in such trivial occasions like this one. His crescent-of-moon eyebrows were thin and narrow as they were furrowed, concentrating on the meal before him. He carried an imperious nose well, and his angular cheekbones carved down towards a flinty jaw. His green eyes gleamed brightly like two emeralds plunged into milky pools as he glanced to the side of his plate, a document there.

Lunch- how ridiculous. He had more important things to do than appeal his wife's request, Ophelia Astra Caddell né Malfoy. She wanted to make things right between them. Still, nothing will ever be the same, not since the death of Lord Caddell's pride and joy, Theodorus Atticus Caddell, a perfect heir who was no longer.

All that remained was a spare—a 'girl.' He didn't want a girl; he wanted a son. Although he didn't dislike the child's existence, he saw it as proof that the woman could still provide an heir. A daughter was only useful for forming alliances.

"Father?" A gentle voice rang out through the dining hall, breaking the deafening silence. The tone of voice was hesitant but clear. Lord Caddell averted his gaze to his 9-year-old daughter. The child was a perfect blend of Lord Caddell and Lady Caddell, with the bright green eyes that the Caddells were known for. Her hair was as blonde as her mother's and plaited into two plaits on her shoulders. A stunning young lady will undoubtedly attract a slew of suitors when the time comes. He had already been deliberating between the betrothal requests scattered on his desk.

"Seraphina?" Lord Caddell replied, his voice tinged with annoyance as he looked to the child, green clashing with green. She set her fork down gently, resting her delicate hands on her lap and ensuring she was sitting up straight.

"Could I please be excused?" Her voice rang out, gaining the courage to ask such a question.

When her father's piercing gaze did not leave her, the girl did not deteriorate. He clenched his jaw as he stared at her. He averted his gaze, giving the child a brief nod, for which she graciously thanked the Lord of her House.

She stood at the edge of her chair, looking at her father, then at her mother, gently picking at her newly made dress.

She curtsied to both. "Father, Mother. I wish you both a good day," she said respectfully as she had been taught since she could walk. She looked towards her mother, staring into her cold grey eyes, feeling relief when she saw the thinned lips show a small smile before disappearing quickly.

The little girl then walked out.

"She left as a result of you." The lady of the house glared angrily at her husband. He didn't say anything because he didn't have time for her pathetic arguments.

"Will you not say anything? Will you ignore me again?! Why did you even bother to come?" she spoke again, her voice louder.

His fist slammed into the table, the cutlery colliding due to the movement. Ophelia flinched at the unexpectedness as his magic flared angrily surrounding the room.

"You will respect me!" he exclaimed to her. "How dare you act like you're more than just a wife! You are to bear my children—bear me an heir—and that is the end of it! I don't need you hounding me and telling me what I should and shouldn't do! Seraphina, that child. A nine-year-old child knows her place. It appears that I have given you far too much leeway."

Nothing else was said. Ophelia stared at the man sitting at the far end of the dining table. She glared openly at him, not caring about the consequences. "Why do you treat me as such" she managed to say.

"Is it because of that whore you run around with? The whore and your bastard?! She gave you a daughter, but 'mine' is legitimate and can proudly call herself a Caddell!"

He has no right to treat her in this manner! She's tried and tried again. She knew she was pushing his limits, but she couldn't take it anymore. A week before, she had only found out that his whore- his French whore Lenora Masters, was expecting a child.

The woman had already given birth to him a daughter, Astrid Leonora Masters. She was relieved that her husband had refused to provide the child with the name Caddell. He would have humiliated her if he had done so. That was not what she desired. She despised that 'Astrid' was her husband's first child.

Ophelia was supposed to have his first child. Still, after so many miscarriages at the start of their marriage, she could not do so. She had witnessed his frustration, and as a result, he began to disregard her.

It wasn't until three years later, after the birth of his bastard daughter, that she was finally able to carry to term. That was when she had given birth to a lovely child, an heir. She had named Theodorus after Atticus had given her permission to do so.

After his birth, everything seemed perfect. Atticus was more present, spending time with his heir and checking on her; it was as if he had forgotten about his first child, which Ophelia appreciated. A year later, she had given birth to another child, thankfully another healthy child, whom Atticus had named Seraphina in honour of his mother.

Ophelia couldn't fathom why he had named her such. Seraphina was a beautiful name, yet why name her after his mother, who he had saif neglected in her duties as a mother to him. He waved off the question, saying he had moved on from the past, understanding his mother's situation, which he refused to elaborate on.

She was stunning, the perfect combination of Malfoy and Caddell, a true, pureblood princess, one of the purest of blood.

Theodorus resembled his mother more than his father, despite having his father's dark curly hair and The Caddell green eyes.

Unfortunately, Ophelia's 'happy' family ended the morning she discovered her son unresponsive- he had been poisoned. He was only five years old. She blamed the whore, but Atticus refused to believe she'd done such a thing.

She was unable to conceive again after his death.

Child after child.

Dead.

She was finally pregnant again, but to her horror, it would seem, Lenora Masters, too, was pregnant. Atticus had not shown much-renewed interest in her even after she had revealed her condition. His neglect was more painful than it had ever been in the past. She was so afraid that this child wouldn't survive, while Lenora's child would. She couldn't have that.

She hated that he was not content to love her and her alone.

What was there for him not to like? She was a pureblood, one who was often called perfect. She was not graceful; she tried hard to please her Lord husband. She had given him Seraphina, but she wasn't enough. She wasn't a boy, but how could any father not be proud and pleased to have such a child?

"Talk to me like that again- Merlin, so help me, you will not live long enough to regret your discission." His voice was levelled and calm as he stared at her. He left her there, alone. He strode with purpose and authority as if he possessed a hidden, leonine might. She felt so alone. Her hand went to her stomach, gently touching her large belly that held her growing child.

"Please be an heir", she whispered in prayer.

"Another argument with my brother?" an amused voice sounded from behind her. Turning her gaze, it was placed on the woman clothed in fine robes. She took slow steps further into the dining room, her hazel eyes looking around before letting them settle on Ophelia. "Cecil," Ophelia said in a neutral tone.

Cecil Ara Caddell is the eldest of the Caddell siblings. Cecil was first, being born 15 years before Atticus, and then the youngest was Baratheon.

She had a sculpted figure which was twine-thin. Her waist was tapered, and she had a burnished complexion. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes. Her delicate ears framed a button nose. A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed as she blew gently on her carmine-red fingernails. It was a pleasure to see her flowing, moon shadow-black hair that lacked the curls Caddells were known for. It would seem her Potter blood was more dominant in terms of hair, which she would have inherited from her mother, who had been a Potter before a Caddell.

Her enticing, constellation-hazel eyes, another Potter trait, gazed at Ophelia over her puffy, heart-shaped lips. She had a bouncy personality and a sugary voice.

Ophelia had no doubt she was more a Potter than Caddell. This was to be expected as she spent more time at the Potter Manor as a child than at her own home, her mother Seraphina taking her whenever she could.

It was clear that Cyrus Caddell cared not what his daughter did, as long as she didn't tarnish the Caddell name.

--Caddell Manor, West Wing-- 2nd December 1926--

The next day, her mother, Madam Malfoy, Tetra Ara Malfoy né Sayre, decided to pay an unexpected visit that Ophelia wasn't sure she appreciated.

"Well?" the woman in green snapped. Ophelia clenched her fist silently as she looked at her mother. The older woman sat perfectly at the side of the small coffee table in the lounge, her shard brown eyes judging her daughter.

"He shows little care for Seraphina," Ophelia responded calmly.

The older woman scoffed, the mother of the current Lord of the ancient and noble house of Malfoy. "Of course, he doesn't because the child is female, and the man isn't getting any younger, Ophelia. Men pride themselves on proudly displaying their male heirs. Men are uninterested in their daughters unless they have a strong heir who will succeed them one day. Yes, Seraphina is a lovely young lady, a perfect pureblood. Still, the house of Caddell is in desperate need of an heir unless you wish for his brother's son to become Lord one day. You'd better pray to Lady Magic that you're carrying the future Lord of the house of Caddell."

Ophelia remained silent as her mother sipped from her teacup. "You won't have to worry about that girl, Lenora Masters. I happen to know someone within the Grindelwald group," she said as her thin lips reopened.

"Drenched welch she is—a poor excuse for a pureblood, which is why I despise the French. She thinks she is high and mighty simply because she opens her legs wide for Lord Caddell. Filthy girl, spending his money as if she were his wife—you, Ophelia, are his wife, do you hear me? I didn't give you birth to be weak; I gave you birth to marry rich and powerful—and to remain powerful, just as you were with the Malfoy name!"

"Yes, mother", Ophelia replied, deciding not to mention that the Malfoys were of French descent, and Tetra smiled, putting her cold hand on her daughter's large bump giving her a sinister smile. "Make sure you don't stress; it isn't good for the baby."

The words were spoken before repeated in her mind, 'You won't have to worry about that girl'. She was sure her mother had something terrible in mind, and Ophelia was glad. When you stab a Malfoy in the back, you will be sure to pay the price.

"This man again", Madam Malfoy sneered as she read the daily prophet. "Who?" Ophelia asked.

Looking up from the page, she glanced at her daughter, "Grindelwald. I'm starting to think everything he does is random, with no real plan."

'GRINDELWALD STRIKES AGAIN, THIS TIME IN THE HEART OF THE AMERICAN MAGICAL MINISTRY'

02/12/1926

'Just this morning, we have gathered news that Grindelwald has begun to increase the number of his followers- some think him mad; some believe his cause is for the best. Although, what truly is his cause?

President Seraphina Picquery of the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA) is currently being held reliable for Grindelwald's recent escape. There is a claim that it was not a mistake for his escape.

A quote from Heinrich Eberstadt, "The madwoman, let the dark wizard slip through his fingers. This is why we leave the leading to men."'

"Ridiculous", Madam Malfoy sneered. The gasp caught Madam Malfoy's attention; she looked to her daughter, gripping her bump; she noticed the wet strain. She grinned like a madwoman.

"It would seem the heir to the house of Caddell will be making an appearance over soon, my sweet."

--Place Cachée, Paris, France--2nd December 1926--

The brown-haired girl stopped suddenly. She stared at herself in the reflection of the window shop, her green eyes staring back at her. She smiled as she took her hat off before placing it on her head. She stood there for a few seconds before nodding to herself. It looked fine.

She set off through the streets of Rue Girardon on her way to meet her mother. She smiled widely at the thought. She couldn't wait to see her mother again, even if they were just apart for about 20 minutes. It was her mother's birthday. After begging Lenora, Master finally decided to abide by her daughter's wish and took her daughter and her son to Place Cachée.

The small girl of ten years had gotten her mother a new hat, so they could match. It was navy blue. She got it to match her mother's navy-blue dress that she had worn today.

"Les hommes de Grindelwald! Courez!" She heard a voice scream. Within a second, the street was in chaos.

Screams filled the streets, people running. She could hear loud explosions, and flashes of lights from wands. She stood frozen in places before she was knocked to the floor by a woman running.

"Tout le monde court!"

Rue Giradrdon was a cacophony of noise and lights. Men in dark robes that covered their faces strode down the middle of the street, their wands at hand. The shoppers scattering in different directions, praying they live. She stood up to her feet, with only two things on her mind, 'Maman et Nicholas'.

"Nous allons tous mourir!!"

She needed to find her mother and her baby brother. She ran towards the side of a building, trying to hide. She fell to the ground, her back pressed against the wall as her arms wrapped around her legs. She peeked around the corner; she could see at least three buildings on fire- there were several bodies on the ground.

There weren't many people through the streets, which had already thinned out, leaving a few duels going on here and there. She could see Aurors! She thought happily that they would be able to save her mother and brother. She remained in the shadows, using the alley between the buildings as protection, trying to find a way to escape.

The cloaked wizards were all over the place, pointing wands at shops. Glass exploded; she could hear people scream. They were screams of witches and wizards who had been attempting to floo away.

Finally, as time passed, more Aurors filled the street, apprehending the cloaked men that hadn't escaped yet.

She stood up, finally deeming it safe.

She ran through the streets, ignoring the yells and calls of the Aurors. "Jeune fille, reviens ici!"

Looking left and right, where was her mother? She froze… no- NO!

That couldn't be them. The blue dress is drenched in blood- NO.

She ran straight for her, "Maman", she cried out, no. This wasn't real. She shook her mother, screaming for her. "S'il te plaît, Maman. Réveille-toi." She pleaded, but not once had her mother moved, her eyes closed as if she was sleeping. She felt arms on her, grabbing her- tearing her away from her mother.

"Non, pitié!" screamed out as she kicked her feet, refusing to be held, but she couldn't break free.

Astrid Lenora Masters was now alone. Her mother nor her brother survived the attack this evening.

--St. Mungo's Hospital, London, England--3rd December 1926--

Her labour had been going on for a day now- the pain only intensifying each hour. She gladly accepted the anti-nausea potion her mediwitch had offered her. As the hours wore, she became more and more exhausted until the mediwitch finally told her she was at 10 cm and could begin pushing when she felt the urge to do so.

"Alright, Lady Caddell. I need you to push once more," the mediwitch insisted calmly.

She bore down with one last push, and the dark-haired baby was put against her chest. Her breathing levelled out as she stared silently at the child, happy it was living, unlike her last child, who was stillborn. A cry tore from its lip as the mediwitch wrapped a cloth around them.

"Oh, sweet child", she murmured tiredly, between tears. She has finally given birth to a living child. Walking in with a cold gaze was Lord Caddell. He stood at her side silently staring at the child she had just given birth to, refusing to say something as he glanced over at the mediwitch who assisted in birthing the child.

"Well?" the Lord drawled.

"It's a boy Lord Caddell" the nervous mediwitch responded, tearing her gaze from the handsome but powerful Lord.

A sigh passed his lips, just as it did from his wife's. Ophelia looked up to his crisp green eyes, now filled with tears and smiled. She gently lifted the cloth and got a good look at their child.

Day later…

She rocked slightly on the chair while holding her child, humming a calming tune to soothe his worries, as he had been fussing earlier and refusing to sleep. Nothing the house-elves seemed to do worked, so here she was, making sure her con was well.

"Mother", a gentle voice greeted from the nursery door. She glanced over to her daughter Seraphina and smiled tiredly. "Sera, do come over here", she called out, seeing her daughter gracefully stand at the doorway. Her hands were perfectly placed into each other.

"Yes, mother", she responded dutifully.

Her daughter neared the chair she was sitting in and stared in awe. It was the first time she laid eyes on her new brother, her little brother. "He's small", her gentle voice commented.

"Yes, all babes are just as small as he is when they've just been born."

"Then… I was this small?" Seraphina curiously asked.

"Yes, darling."

A whine left the babe's mouth as she stopped moving, and then she proceeded to continue rocking.

"What did father name him?" she asked.

Looking away from the quiet babe, she looked to her daughter, "Emrys, after his father, your grandfather. Emrys Caddell."

"Emrys… it sounds beautiful, mother," Seraphina whispered. "Emmy", Seraphina sounded out as she gently brushed her brother's cheek hesitantly.

She looked at the child with awe, promising herself she would protect him.

Emrys Cyrus Caddell was born 03/12/1926.

Both their necks turned as they felt another presence. Stood at the doorway Seraphina had been standing at was her father, Atticus Caddell. She hadn't seen him all day as he had been at the Ministry. It wasn't often he would be home.

"Father", Seraphina greeted as she curtsied as it was customed to do. He waved a hand dismissively. He wanted her to leave. "I can come to see Emmy later?" she phrased it as a question, looking towards her mother, who smiled gently, "Of course, darling."

Seraphina walked right past her father. As she left, the man walked further into the room. Taking it all in, yet to put his eyes on either Ophelia or Emrys. The room was small, at least when compared to the other rooms.

Small, yet still considered large by others. It was the nursey room, a room which Seraphina used to be nursed in, there were others, but Ophelia had decided she wished for him to grow in this room.

"What is it?" Ophelia as, her eyes following his figure as he moved around the room. His hand trailed over the dresser slowly before he looked towards his wife. His face giving her nothing, she was finding herself getting nervous.

"Winster", Atticus finally spoke. With a crack, his personal house-elf was at his side, "What shall Winster do for Master Caddell?" the elf asked, eager to help.

"Take my son on a walk in the gardens."

"Why?" Ophelia asked, standing to her feet. The house-elf had done what was asked of it. "He's 'our' son Atticus. Not 'yours'," she hissed.

He ignored her words, simply walking over to the couch that was dressed against the wall, facing the finely carved crib that was placed in the middle of the room. He rested his arm on the right armchair, his left hand running through his hair before he let out a sigh of disappointment.

"Did you do it?" He simply asked. She just stared, unsure of what he was talking about, so he continued. "Lenora Masters is officially dead, and so is her son. I will ask again, did you do it?" His voice was more firm yet delicate. His green eyes burning with curiosity, and Ohphealia could see it- did he think this a game?

"I don't know what you're talking about, so what if the wrench and bastard are dead?" she replied.

His arm shifted off the armchair, and he leaned forward, his arms folded on his lap. "There's so much you learn about another after being married so long… Ophelia, I wish you wouldn't lie to me. I'm sure you know how much I hate that- it was your mother, wasn't it?"

With the way, her eyes slightly widened, and he nodded as he stood. "There really was no need to leave her daughter without her family."

"I don't care, Atticus! They're just a reminder of your unfaithfulness to me! Why do you do this?!" she hissed. "Why do you continue to embarrass me? You have Seraphina, and now you have an heir! I'm glad she is dead because of that woman. My precious Theo is dead!"

He stared at her before walking towards the window. She hated how he avoided talking, "Say something!" she shouted. "It wasn't her."

"What" Ophelia's face seemed to drain, "What wasn't her?" he spoke again. "Theo… it wasn't her- she wasn't the one to kill him, nor was he killed by poison Ophelia," Atticus said.

"Then… I don't understand," she said again, nearing him where he was, desperately wanting to understand, "Tell me! Please, what do you mean?" her voice sounded throughout the room.

He turned to face her, a look of regret on his face, "Theodorus was a squib Ophelia…" he trailed off. "Liar! My son was not a filthy squib- Stop it, you're just-" he grabbed both her hands as she began to hit him, "Stop lying!" she sobbed.

"Look at me," he said gently, and reluctantly she did. "He truly was a squib… Cyrus- my father, he found out and was angry with that result. Ophelia, he wasn't poisoned. That was what I told you. My father strangled him in his sleep."

"Let go", she whispered, and he did. He released her wrists and watched her slowly crumble to the floor, not a sound to be heard.

He lowered himself down beside her, reluctantly wrapping his arms around her. "You lied to me?" her quiet voice said, but he didn't respond. He hadn't told her because he- he actually wasn't sure why he hadn't told her. It just wouldn't make a difference because either way, Theodorus Atticus Caddell was dead.

"Is that why your father died in that supposed mysterious magical accident?"

"I was angry that he decided he knew what was best for my family. Yes, Theodorus was a squib, but I would have sent him to the muggle world, where he would still be alive. I was angry. My father explained every detail to me…."

Ophelia looked up with her teary eyes as she heard his voice crack at the end, "Tell me," she whispered, her hand gently touching his cheek. "He… told me what his last words were. He asked my father if I still loved him. Sometimes I see him in my dreams."

"That's why you barely ever sleep", she realised, "It's my fault. I told my father about him being a squib. There hadn't been a squib in the house of Caddell for generations, and of course, my father thought it a stain on our name.

"You named my son after him! Emrys 'Cyrus', really? ARE YOU MAD? HE KILLED OUR SON."

"He was still a great man, and Theodorus was indeed a squib-"

The sound of her palm hitting his cheek was loud, his head had turned as a result, and he didn't move. It only stayed where he was as he heard her leave. Her steps sounded as she did.