*Heir to the Serpent Lord*

Chapter 4: The Blood of a Father

The air inside the ritual chamber was thick with anticipation. The stone walls were lined with ancient runes, glowing softly as they responded to the powerful magic that filled the room. In the center, an elaborate altar of black marble stood, surrounded by candles that flickered with green flames. Voldemort stood tall at one end of the altar, his expression unreadable but the intensity in his red eyes unmistakable. This was a moment of great importance—today, the boy would no longer be Ty Jonson. Today, he would become *Saber Draconic Slytherin-Pendragon*.

Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus stood nearby, quietly observing, their roles now merely as witnesses to the ceremony. Nagini lay coiled in a corner, her gaze fixed protectively on the boy, who was standing nervously in the middle of the room. His eyes darted around, trying to understand what was about to happen. Though still young, he could feel the power radiating from the walls, from the very air he breathed.

"Are you ready, Saber?" Voldemort's voice was soft but commanding, drawing the boy's attention back to him. For a moment, the boy hesitated. He didn't fully understand what was about to happen, but something deep inside told him that this was important—that after this, he would never be alone again.

Saber nodded, his small body trembling slightly as he stood before the Dark Lord. Voldemort gave him a reassuring smile, a rare and gentle expression that showed the boy he was in no danger.

Voldemort turned to the side, where Griphook, the goblin who had performed the inheritance test, was preparing a ceremonial goblet. The goblet itself was made of pure silver, etched with runes of ancient magic. Griphook held a ceremonial dagger, one that shimmered in the green light of the flames, and cut a thin line across Voldemort's palm. Dark, rich blood flowed into the goblet, swirling as it mixed with a thick, amber liquid.

"The blood of the father," Griphook said solemnly as he handed the goblet to Voldemort.

Voldemort closed his eyes for a brief moment, murmuring an incantation under his breath, the ancient words of the blood adoption ritual that only a handful of wizards in the world knew. The power of the ritual thrummed through the room as the incantation took form, echoing off the walls.

**"Sanguine patris, filii fati,
Ego tibi offero cor et sanguinem,
Ut tecum coniungar per vitam et mortem,
Nomen meum, domum meam, magiam meam.
Accipe, et renascere,
Saber Draconic Slytherin-Pendragon."**

(Translation: "Blood of the father, child of fate,
I offer you my heart and blood,
That we may be bound in life and in death,
My name, my house, my magic.
Take it, and be reborn,
Saber Draconic Slytherin-Pendragon.")

The air hummed with ancient magic as Voldemort spoke the words, and the glow from the runes on the walls intensified, pulsing in time with the incantation.

Voldemort knelt down so that he was at eye level with the boy, his red eyes softer than Saber had ever seen them. "Drink this, Saber," Voldemort instructed, holding out the goblet to him. "It will bind us as father and son, and you will be my heir in both blood and magic."

Saber reached out with trembling hands, taking the goblet from Voldemort. The smell of the potion was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. He brought it to his lips, feeling the warmth of the liquid as it touched his mouth. As soon as the first sip passed his throat, an overwhelming surge of warmth and power rushed through his small body. He gasped, feeling as though his very soul was being rewritten, reformed into something stronger.

He drank the rest of the potion, his hands steadying as a deep, unshakable bond formed between him and Voldemort. The runes on the walls flared bright, casting the room in an intense green light as the magic completed its work. Saber's body glowed briefly, and then the light dimmed, leaving the boy trembling but feeling something he had never felt before—belonging.

Voldemort placed his hands on Saber's shoulders, his voice softer than before. "It is done, my son. You are now a part of me, and I a part of you. You are Saber Draconic Slytherin-Pendragon, heir to my house, my magic, and my legacy."

Saber looked up into Voldemort's eyes, his own eyes wide with wonder. "Your son?"

Voldemort nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes, my son."

Narcissa stepped forward, a proud smile on her face. "Welcome to the family, Saber. You are a true Slytherin now, with a family that will protect you."

Lucius nodded in agreement. "You have a new life now, one with honor and power."

Saber's small face lit up with something that looked like hope—hope that had been long absent from his life. He took a deep breath and said quietly, "Thank you... Father."

The room fell silent for a moment, Voldemort standing tall beside his newly adopted son. The power of the ritual still hung in the air, making everyone feel the depth of the bond that had just been created.

---

**After the Ritual**

As the candles flickered and the heavy magic settled, Voldemort guided Saber out of the ritual room, back into the warmth of the living quarters in Slytherin Castle. The boy, still trying to comprehend everything that had just happened, stayed close to Voldemort, feeling the strange new sensation of being safe and cared for.

Once they were settled, Saber tugged at Voldemort's sleeve, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes. "Father?"

Voldemort, who had been reviewing some parchments with Lucius and Severus, turned his full attention to the boy. "Yes, Saber?"

Saber's voice was small but determined. "Can you... save Bubba from the bad people?"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, his expression growing curious. "Bubba? Who is Bubba?"

Saber's face darkened as he remembered. "He's my cousin... He's with the bad people. The ones who hurt me. He's not like them—he's nice. But they hurt him too. Please, save him like you saved me."

Voldemort knelt to meet his son's eyes, his voice calm. "Where is he?"

Saber thought hard for a moment, then said in a quiet voice, "Number 4, Privet Drive."

The air in the room seemed to shift as Voldemort recognized the address instantly. His red eyes glowed with cold fury. "The Dursleys," he hissed softly, the name leaving his lips like a curse.

Lucius, standing nearby, also stiffened. "That's the home of Harry Potter's relatives, is it not?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but his hand remained steady on Saber's shoulder. "Indeed it is. Albus Dumbledore placed that boy there under the guise of protection. But if what Saber says is true..." He paused, his gaze darkening. "Then those Muggles have not only harmed my heir, but they may have been abusing Harry Potter as well."

Severus stepped forward, his face grim. "My Lord, I would not be surprised. The Dursleys are known for their cruelty, even among Muggles."

A dangerous, cold silence filled the room as Voldemort considered his next move. His hatred for Dumbledore had already reached new heights, but the idea that the so-called "savior of the wizarding world" might have been left in the hands of abusers sent a fresh wave of rage through him.

"Prepare a team," Voldemort ordered, his voice low but deadly. "We will go to Privet Drive, and we will deal with this."

Saber's eyes filled with gratitude, but there was also fear. "You'll save him, right? Like you saved me?"

Voldemort looked down at his son, his face softening. "Yes, Saber. I will save him. No child should suffer as you have."

Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus bowed and left the room to make the necessary preparations, while Voldemort placed a hand on Saber's head.

"Rest now," Voldemort told him, "for soon we will bring your cousin to safety. You will not be alone again."

Saber smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest that was unfamiliar but welcome. His new father—his true father—would keep his promises. He was sure of it.