To Meet History

Chapter 12- An Obvious Truth

Harry leaned back against the bottom of the couch on which Remus and Severus sat. He had a solemn look on his face. Draco, who sat at the opposite end of the couch, asked, "What's gotten into you, Potter?"

Harry made no reply. Le-Annette stared at him with a knowing expression on her face. Hermione, from her place at the foot of Le-Annette's chair, kept shooting glances between the two of them.

"What's bothering you, Harry?" Lupin asked, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

Hermione tutted and stood. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked.

"What is so obvious, Miss Granger?" Severus replied, sneering up at the young witch.

"It's obvious why Harry is upset," Hermione paused for a moment, looking questioningly, pleadingly at Le-Annette. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," the vampire said, clasping her hands in her lap. "It's very obvious why Harry appears to be so bothered."

Harry stood. He still made no move to reply to anyone's statements or questions.

"Yes, Harry," Le-Annette continued. "It is true. How can it not be?"

"Bloody hell, what is everyone talking about?!" Ron persisted.

"I did start the Slytherin Family Line. In fact, my children were his only ones,"

"What importance is that to Potter?" Draco inquired.

"Her children are why we have Voldemort," Harry spoke finally.

Snape gave a solemn nod. Lupin stood and gripped Harry's shoulder again. Draco shook his head.

"So, it is true what the Dark Lord says. He is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin," the blond boy said.

"Right on the money," Ron put in.

"Through the child that you had. That child has caused the bane of my existence," Harry said, giving Le-Annette an accusing look.

"Potter, it's not like her child was the Dark Lord himself. She could've never known that her bloodline would lead to him," Snape said reasonably.

"Severus is right. Aunt Le-Annette could've never known that," Hermione said.

"My story is not finished. Please, take your seats again," Le-Annette said, and the group did as she requested. She resumed. "You're right, Harry. In a way it is my fault that Voldemort exists. It's possible it's my fault in more ways than one, but I'm jumping ahead. It was not this child's, my first, bloodline that led to Voldemort. I had a son then. I named him Lysander. I had another son soon after, two years his elder brother's minor. I named him Selig. Then I had my one and only daughter a year later. Her name was Nola. But neither of my three previous children's bloodline's led to Voldemort. It would be my fourth and final child, my son Taima, that would see to that. His birth was difficult. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was because of the anger I held toward his father. You see, Gryffindor was right about one thing. Salazar had changed, and he continued to change throughout our marriage. He began to preach to me, almost nightly, about the superiority of being a pure blood witch or wizard. He would always end up apologizing to me at the end of the night, remembering finally that I was only a half blood.

"He would have these arguments with Gryffindor as well. And finally, one night, about a month or so after I discovered my pregnancy with Taima, he came to me and instructed that I pack up everything I own. Everything our children owned. When I inquired as to why he told me that he was fed up with Gryffindor and the others and that we were leaving. I refused to go. He was shocked, I think, overall. But he masked it with anger. He told me he was going without me. I told him he would not take my children from me. He replied that I could have them. That he would go alone. He told me that I was no longer his wife, that he would not have a wife that had no loyalty to him. This hurt me the most. I told him to leave. That I wanted nothing more to do with him. And he was gone. Months later, I went into labor."

* * * *

"Keep the children out of here," Rowena instructed Helga.

Helga looked over to see three curious faces peaking through a crack in the door.

"Come come now, little ones," Helga cooed at them. "Mommy will be out in no time, and then you will have a new brother or sister to play with."

She shooed them away and shut the door. Le-Annette laughed slightly.

"They're just curious as to why their mother is not with them," Bathsheba said.

"Bathsheba, fetch Le-Annette a stick to bite down on. It's time," Rowena instructed.

Bathsheba rushed around and came back with a chip of wood about the length of a mouth and just thick enough to withstand biting. Helga moved to stand in front of the door. Rowena took a deep breath.

"Okay," Rowena said. "Push."

And so the labor process began. It was longer and harder than any of Le-Annette's previous births. The babe seemed reluctant to leave his or hers mother's womb. Finally, after much pain and anguish, more that Le-Annette had ever experienced while giving birth, she her the cry of her baby. She sighed and tried to rest easy, but little jolts of pain were still shooting through her.

"A boy," Rowena announced. "You are truly gifted in birthing sons."

As Rowena took the child to be washed, Bathsheba smiled down at her friend.

"What will you name him?" she asked.

Le-Annette thought for a moment. She began to say something silly like "Salazar the II" or something of the sort, but then an anger rose up in her. Salazar had not even be able to put aside his pride long enough to witness the birth of his child. Suddenly, Le-Annette remembered how she had always taken her children to meet her parents. She remembered how her mother and father had loved their grandchildren. She stared up, resolutely, at Bathsheba.

"I will name him after my father. His name is Taima," Le-Annette proclaimed.

"A fine name. Should I let your children in?" Helga asked as Rowena came back with the swaddled Taima and placed him in his mother's arms.

"Yes. I want them to meet their brother,"

Helga opened the door, and Lysander, Selig, and Nola entered. They all circled around Le-Annette's bed, staring at the new addition to the family.

"So," Le-Annette began. "This is your brother, Taima. What do you think of him?"

"He's rather small," Nola observed. "When will he get bigger, Mother?"

"In a year or two. Then...Ahhh!" Le-Annette gasped. Bathsheba stooped and scooped up the newborn. Rowena shooed the children so that she could get closer to Le-Annette.

"Mother, what's wrong?" Lysander asked, fear in his eyes.

Rowena was looking over Le-Annette's body. When she raised her eyes to Bathsheba and Helga, their was a deep sadness in them.

"Helga, take the new babe and his siblings outside. Keep them there," Rowena said.

Helga nodded and did so. When the door shut, Le-Annette looked up at her two friends.

"What's wrong with me? Why hasn't the pain stopped?" she asked.

Bathsheba looked at Le-Annette with a tear in her eyes.

"Le-Annette, your baby required what was left of you be born...You're dying," Rowena said, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

Le-Annette's eyes widened. So this was it. This is how she would end her life. Salazar would even out live her. Suddenly, Helga's voice was heard from the hallway.

"You can't go in there! Sir, who are you? What do you want from here? No, you can't enter! Sir!"

The door opened. In the doorway stood a man with shoulder length red hair and dark eyes. A man Le-Annette knew all too well. He walked over to her bed and took one of his hands in hers.

"Zion," Le-Annette smiled up at him.

"Leave," Zion said to Bathsheba and Rowena without taking his eyes off Le-Annette. "Leave, and close the door behind you."

"Now see here— " Rowena began, but Le-Annette interrupted her.

"It's alright, Rowena. Do as he says,"

The two mediwitches looked baffled did as Le-Annette instructed. Once the door closed behind them, Zion began to speak to Le-Annette.

"I knew this day would come. I'm sorry. If I had tried harder, I could've prevented it. That is not the point now. The point is, I may have a way to keep you here, with us,"

"H— how?" Le-Annette said, gasping with another jolt of pain.

"I can turn you. You can become a vampire. Like me,"

"What? I don't know...no, I can't do that," Le-Annette said.

"But think of your children, Le-Annette. Don't you want to see them grow into adulthood?"

Le-Annette glared at him. "That's not fair. You know I want...that,"

Another jolt of pain ravished her.

"Make the decision. There is nothing you can gain by your death. If you live, perhaps you can be of service,"

"To whom?"

"Everyone and anyone. Please, Le-Annette. Nobody here wants to lose you,"

She sighed and another jolt of pain. She knew it wouldn't be long. She made her decision.

"Turn me," she said.