Second Book. Sequel of It Has Always Been You. (Oliver Wood X READER)
Y/n struggles with her relationship with Oliver. As a new girl from France attends Hogwarts. Y/n begins to notice Oliver change as both grow more distant. Does Oliver still love Y...
***Throughout this chapter, there will be no first-person POV
_____________________________ The Heirs
The fire in Riddle Manor's study crackled low, throwing long shadows across the room. Voldemort's crimson gaze lingered on his three children — Elijah standing tall with his book of runes, Damon twirling a small flame between his fingers, and Y/n perched quietly on the arm of his chair, listening.
He could see it in his sons' eyes: the hunger to help him find her.
Elijah's determination was written in the way he pored over ancient texts and battled tirelessly to strengthen his magic.
Damon's passion flashed in every storm he conjured, every sly grin that dared the world to challenge him.
Even Y/n, small and silent, clung to his sleeve and watched him with her mother's sharp green eyes, as if she too understood.
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Voldemort's pale fingers drummed lightly on the armrest as he regarded them.
"You are all I have left of her," he said at last, his voice low but full of something strange — something almost like warmth. "The only thing this wretched world has not yet stolen from me"
They wanted to help.
But Voldemort knew better.
"You cannot help me," he thought grimly. "Not yet."
Even as he admired their strength, a shadow pressed at the edges of his senses — a feeling he could not name. A faint, gnawing wrongness that grew stronger each night.
Something was coming. Something that even he — Lord Voldemort — could not yet see.
His fingers tightened slightly on the arm of the chair. He hated the thought of weakness. He hated even more the thought of sending them away. But the feeling would not leave him.
And so, silently, he began to consider what he had always sworn he would never do: "Perhaps... Rosier could take them. Keep them hidden. Keep them safe. Until I bring her back. Until it is over."
His lips curled faintly, though not in a smile this time. The idea burned in his chest, but the sense of danger only grew stronger.
For now, he kept the thought to himself, letting his sons believe they stood at his side.
But as Y/n's small hand squeezed his sleeve, as Elijah's eyes glimmered with restrained determination, and as Damon's flame danced higher and brighter, Voldemort's crimson gaze slid to the hearth and darkened.
"They will not be here when the storm breaks," he decided. "Better they hate me for sending them away than perish under my shadow. Gabriel will raise them... if I fall."
For the first time in years, he felt the faintest chill of uncertainty.
