Forever more my Lioness

Chapter one

A union of Slytherin and Sayre
Magic joined, blood combine
flames of desolation simper and die,
And a new world birthed in its ash,
The Phoenix will fall through darkness,
His weapon of light, seduced and turned,
And all shall sit in wonder,
the Serpent King -master of death is born.

Voldemort became utterly consumed by these eleven lines. Spending countless nights reading family tree after family tree. He had learned about the Sayre line and was disinterested and took personal insult that fate would have him soil the great Slytherin line with average dim-witted, pureblood fanatics. That is, until he found information in the most mundane of books. "Ilvermoney school of Witchcraft and Wizardry- A history." The house of the Great Horned Serpent was aptly named after the beast granted the Sayre mother two wands made from its horn. And in exchange the Serpent bound the family to itself. The Sayres understood the magnitude and considered it an honor but they did not understand how deeply it would take root in their family. The generation born to her two sons were parselmouths, but squibs. Disgusted, she disowned her grandchildren and obliviated her sons so they would not feel the grief of losing their children. She abandoned her grandchildren on the doorstep of muggles who were settling in the new world, and never looked back. Her sons bore magical children seven years later. And none of the Sayre magical heirs inherited the gift nor the language of the great horned Serpent.

Voldemort couldn't blame the Sayre mother at being utterly revolted at having squib grandchildren.  But he couldn't wrap his brilliant mind on exactly how they would still be parselmouths? That gift was inherently magical. Potent magic at that. He traced the magical Sayre line to the last descendent born in 1923. Xanavictus Sayre was an early supporter of Grindlewald. Died prematurely of poisoning from an unknown assailant. The Dark Lord was livid. His magic pulsed in angry black and violet tendrils so strong that it shattered every window in Malfoy Manor. He heard two distinct pops belonging to  Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy fleeing the premises in order to avoid his bad mood.

"Cowards..." Voldemort puffed out, before summoning a house elf and sending a well known green curse at it.

"But not entirely stupid I suppose." He says, chuckling darkly.

The seer responsible for the prophecy must have been mad. For the last heir of the Sayre line was dead before Voldemort was even born. Not to mention a male! So even if Xanavictus Sayre survived there could be no matrimonial binding happening between them, and they certainly could not produce an heir. Unless... the squibs. It wasn't entirely uncommon for a magical child to be born one or more generations after. But since out of the prejudice of the Sayre family, they did not record the squibs lineage, he would have to find another way to see if the line still existed. The Dark Lord levitated a very old and very dark scroll towards his position in his black leather wing-backed chair in his study.

" Yes... this has to be the will of the elders pushing me towards my purpose."

The scroll contained a ritual that was all too perfect. It would trace the ancestry backwards, forwards, and all sub lines completely. He began marking ruins deep into the dark wooden floors, combined the ingredients in the platinum cauldron as instructed, adding a drop of his own blood since it would further increase the power of the magic because his soulmate belonged to this family. Dropped in the bone of Xanavictus Sayre, and lastly, let the tome containing the Sayre family history slide into the scalding, burbling and sinister mixture. The ancient scroll said that it would take nine hours for the process to be completed. Voldemort satisfied with his work, headed for his chambers for some much needed rest. Tomorrow he would know if he would truly become master of death.

The next morning the Dark Lord collected the tome from the cauldron, one pallid finger stroking the leather cover. A steaming cup of coffee was clutched in his vast hand. Absentmindedly, he took a deep drink, and opened to the page that promised the answer he was searching for. The shock of what he read caused him spit it all over the book. "The mudblood is my soulmate?"