The leaves surrounded her, providing what she deemed to be a decent hiding place from her less than worthy foes. Her harsh golden eyes measured the tiny home, wondering how on earth such an idiotic family could resist the Dark Lord. She drew her wand steadily, and waited for the opportune moment. Her keen ears picked up on everything around her. What she hadn't noticed; however, was the wizard behind her. He grabbed her gruffly by the back of her cloak, hauling her toward the cottage-style house with surprising force from a thirty-six year old man. Harry Potter hauled her into his home, pinning her against the round kitchen table. "Who are you?" His voice was rested, better than the voice she had heard so many years ago outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "What's wrong Potter," she spat venomously, "Don't you recognize me?" Silence, Harry grabbed her left arm and pushed up the sleeve of her maroon shirt. It had been marked, a skull and snake, the Dark Mark. "Death Eater," he mumbled to himself. It didn't make sense to him, she knew, that there still could be her kind after the Dark Lord was defeated. He stated as much, "Who do you serve now, girl? Voldemort's dead, there's no one else." "I serve no witch or wizard of any position," she said bitterly, "Only myself." A flash of red hair and a loud popping noise announced the arrival of Potter's wife, Ginny. "Harry, there's still gnomes over at-" She broke off upon noticing her husband pinning the girl to the old table, the dark mark on her left forearm added to the diversion. "What's happening?" "I'm about do find out," Harry replied before turning back to the girl, "Who are you? And please don't start with your damn nostalgia, I want your name and I want it now. Or I send to straight to Azkaban." The girl displayed plain fury on her pretty face before she regrouped, "Then send me, Potter, because I belong there." Ginny caught Harry's eye for a moment, holding up one finger in an effort to calm him. "And why is that?" Ginny's voice was much calmer than her husbands, as though she had much practice with stubborn people like this girl.

"Because," the girl whispered before looking up into Ginny's eyes, "I came here to kill you." There was a moment of silence before the fight broke out. The girl on the table twisted around to deliver a strong kick to Harry's jaw, knocking the round glasses askew. But as soon as the girl whipped around for Ginny, she was hit in the chest with the spell. It knocked her backwards, onto the clean tiled floor. And in a blink, Ginny was standing over her, hands on her hips and her wand ready in her right hand. "I suggest you not try that again," she said steadily as Harry picked himself off the floor, "Now, I'm going to ask you this once – only once – and I want you to give me a very straight answer." She bent down, pointing the tip of her wand at the girl's throat, "What's your name?" The girl swallowed and her gold eyes darted from Harry to Ginny before she finally opened her mouth to speak. "My name is Lalithine Lestrange Riddle. Nineteen years ago, your husband killed my family."