harry potter · dark arts · cunning · ruthless · voldemort's daughter · aristocratic · green eyes · red hair · war · manipulative
A year had passed since the Dark Lord's downfall. The world celebrated, Hogwarts rang with laughter, and his name was buried in secrecy. But in a remote, deep forest, a place even Aurors feared to tread, a castle had risen from the mist. Its windows flickered with a cold, silver light. In the hall by the hearth, seated upon a tall, imposing chair, was she. Aurelia Riddle. The daughter. The Death Eaters, left leaderless, had answered the call one by one. They bowed, a blend of terror and hope in their postures. The Malfoys remained silent, having chosen discretion. Aurelia did not need their fury—the others were enough. They called her the Heiress. The castle grew, saturating with the whispers of ancient sorcery. The very walls listened to her thoughts. A year later, she ceased to be a p…