What a wicked heart has made.

Godric smiled in response to the new woman in the room. Of course I'll make a pretty corpse, but I make an even better looking fighter. he said with a grin. He looked at the others in the room. Besides, I have a birth right to live up to to be a DE while in school. His eyes were alight with mischife. So who is in charge around here nowdays?

Hafiz smiled at the professor and enter the manor. He now standing at Matthew side. watching them arguing. His wand at the ready incase there will be a fight. But he did not bother though because he knew that Matt was just being careful since there was a backstabber before. He just smiled to Godric and act friendly.

Godric smiled in turn letting his quarter veela blood shine through. He was quietly assessing the threat level of each person around him. Making a plan of action should any of them attack him. He wasn't going to go down alone.

The boy's smile was dazzling. It transformed his face from that of an ordinary teenager into an angel. Suddenly, Lyra's heartbeat was racing and blood had rushed to her cheeks because even she had some sense of decency. She was breathing faster and...

And then the tip of her wand was mere inches from his face. Held at the full extension of her arm and in a vicelike grip lest he attempt to snatch it away.

"I assume you're aware of what we do to mongrels in these parts?" she enquired with barely a tremble of fury tinging her tone.

Godric looked her dead in the eye. His smile still plastered on his face. And how, pray tell is a Veela considered being a mongrel? He let out his laugh the sound of a lyre being softly strum. Especially when said quarter Veela is not only a Malfoy, but also the Nephew of the German Minister of Magic? His cards were on the table. If they killed him now so be it. He was more afraid of being alone then of death. His eyes turned to ice letting no emotion show.

Lyra lowered her wand. Her point was made and if what it said was true, Malfoy would probably have something to say if she put it down before he'd even met his progeny. That is, assuming they hadn't met already. Hell, maybe he'd like to do the honours.

"You're not full Veela," she stated. "Unless the Malfoy family has a particularly large secret? No; I'm afraid you're a mutt, no matter how fine a pedigree the rest of your family holds."

Yes, but as far as I know Veelas are considered pureblood any way. He knew his background wasn't known to these people so he wasn't quite sure what to say to them. Now, with all of that aside, I would like to be able to prove my worth to the cause. I may be Veela but at least I'm not a mudblood. This last word was spit out like venom in his mouth. Leaving no doubt about his hatred of impurities in the bloodlines.

With a shake of her head, Lyra dismissed this assertion. If it made him feel better, the child could believe anything he liked. But his final comment, that was a little too close to home for her to let go.

"Yes, at least you're not a mudblood," she agreed mildly. "I believe that's why we're all here."

She glanced back into the house and wondered what she was missing. They'd just been about to start a poker hand when she left. The conversation had sounded simply fascinating when she'd overheard it, but now it was getting stale. It was the way with children.

"Much as we'd love to stand on the doorstep chatting all night, I'm afraid we all have work to be getting on with," she said. "And I daresay you want to see your papa."

Godric scoffed. You would think. But that would be an incorrect assumption. I lived all my life with out Draco Malfoy in my life. The reason I'm here is to see who is on my side and who is going to feed me to the dementors. His voice was full of a darkness no young man should have. Portraying not only anger, but betrayal and hardships most adults couldn't even fathom.

Lyra shrugged.

"If you think the people on your side would even wince at feeding you to dementors to save themselves, you're in the wrong place."

She turned and walked back into the house. If she was really unlucky, it might be strip poker. Most Death Eaters were too stingy to play for money, having got theirs through years of hoarding and longevity, and their lack of inhibition brought a whole other level of terror to the game.