Chapter 10 - Perseus

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The records were a library in themselves. Shelves upon shelves, containing thousands upon thousands of names.

I looked at Tom. "When do you suppose they would have been here?"

"I have no idea. If we were born in 1927..."

"I think you would have to be at least twenty-five," I guessed. "That would make them thirty-six today."

"And eleven in 1914," Tom concluded. "We can start there and add or subtract years if we can't find them." He gazed up at the shelves. "Where are we right now?"

With some effort, I pulled a volume out from where it was tightly wedged between its neighbors. It was bound with leather and smelled a bit like the files Mrs. Cole kept: musty and aged. I flipped open to the front page and read: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Registry. Year 1637.' Well that's not it. What do you have?"

Tom had disappeared to the other side of the shelf. "I have 1693 here. The most recent would be over there." We passed several more shelves quietly. I silently mused about how all these records must be being kept track of. Hundreds of years of names, all preserved for eternity. My name would be in one of them.

"This is one," Tom said. He laid out a book on a table and brought a candle closer. As he leafed through the pages, I rapidly read the headings. There were chapters for each, major events ("Resucitation required for M. Stern on 19 October. Quidditch practice and matches strictly prohibited while equipment under inspection."), and new students.

"Do you want to look first?" Tom offered. He edged the book toward me. These pages were not as yellowed as the other ones, but still felt crisp under my touch. The section for S surnames was not very long, and it only took one scan to confirm that there was no Spencer on the list. I didn't know my mother's maiden name, so I couldn't check that either.

"Nothing here," I said nonchalantly.

"Look in all the other years," Tom said. "Maybe they were older than we thought."

I did so, but there was no Spencer in the second years, nor the third years, nor any of the other years. I shook my head and pushed back to him.

"Find another," Tom said. "We can look through some more."

"Tom-" I began awkwardly.

"What?" He was rifling through the book frantically. I didn't want to voice my misgivings about this operation, but it didn't seem practical to me to spend all night here. We had nothing to lead us, and it wasn't likely we would find something that would. But Tom seemed so determined.

"Nothing."

I woke up lying against the same table I had been at last night. I raised my head slowly and took in my surroundings. Columns of white light highlighted the sides of the towering shelves that seemed to rise into the ceiling. Across from me, Tom was still asleep. Scattered on the table were more books.

I rose and stretched, stiff from my night in the chair. Crossing to Tom, I gave him a cautious tap on the shoulder. "Tom?"

He shook awake at once. "What..."

"We're in the library," I whispered, feeling the need to speak softly.

Tom stared forward for a long time and then stood up. "That's right," he muttered. He nodded towards one of the books on the table. It was open. "That one's for you. I found it after you fell asleep."

I approached it slowly. Written in neat script about half way down the left page was Perseus Spencer.

A strange ripple ran through me, staring at the name. "How do we know this was my father?"

Tom shrugged. "It's the only Spencer."

I looked back. Perseus...I had never known my father's name before now. It wasn't any name I had heard before. I wondered if it meant anything. For the first time, I felt myself missing him.

"What about you, Tom? Did you find your father too?"

Tom shook his head shortly. "No. He's not in there."

My face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Tom shrugged again. "Doesn't matter. I can look other places." But he wasn't meeting my gaze. His face was paler than normal. Silence settled between us.

"Why don't you go down," Tom suggested quietly. "People are probably looking for you-"

"Then you should come too," I said. "They'll want to know where you are-"

"No. Looking for you," Tom repeated. "No one's going to come after me. I can search by myself now."

I didn't want to leave when he was upset, but I knew he must have wanted to be alone. No doubt my presence would make him more bitter, when it was my father he had found, and I hadn't been terribly invested in knowing him in the first place like Tom was with his own parents.

"Okay. Tell me if you find anything, all right?" I asked.

"Sure. See you later." Without another word, Tom turned and began to walk further into the library. I wasn't sure what more he could find since we had already exhausted all of the avenues here, but I didn't say anything and instead left.

The halls outside the library were still. I thought it was probably breakfast time, and I was suddenly reminded of my empty stomach. I made my way to the Great Hall as quickly as I could and found that it was earlier than I thought: the tables were just beginning to fill. Without bothering to seek out a friend, I sat down randomly and helped myself to some kippers.

"Evelyn!" Someone grabbed me by the shoulders.

I yelped and dropped my fork, twisting and finding myself grabbing Diana by her cloak. "Diana! Don't do that; you scared me!"

"Like you're one to talk!" Diana reprimanded. "Where were you last night? We couldn't find you at all after Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"I was-I was in the library. Me and Tom were looking for something that might tell us about our parents," I explained.

"And...?"

"Perseus Spencer," I said. "My dad. Kind of a weird name, don't you think? I've never heard of it."

"Maybe for Muggles," Diana said casually. "Not as much for us. Don't you remember that kid in our house, Abraxas?"

"Oh yeah. I had forgotten about him," I murmured.

"So where's Tom?" Diana wondered.

"Er...still looking around," I said. "He wasn't as lucky." I glanced at Diana tentatively. "I think he's upset. He'd never say, but I think he's annoyed that I learned more than he did."

"But touchy, isn't he?" Diana remarked.

"He's not," I defended, suddenly irritated. "We didn't really know anything at the orphanage. This our only chance."

Diana pursed her lips. "You're right; sorry about that."

"Doesn't matter," I mumbled. "Just don't say it around Tom."

I was lying on a sofa by the fire later that day. Night had long since fallen, and the lake water was now black. It hasn't taken me long to love the Slytherin common room, especially at night. The waves lapped up against the windows rhythmically, a soothing sound to fall sleep to. I closed my eyes, the heat from the fire leaving a breath of warmth with each crackle. Voices of students working sounded out.

"Hey." I stirred to see Tom's pale face.

"Hey..." I sat up. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Tom said, "but I'm not giving up. Do you suppose there might be somewhere else to look? I was in the trophy room today, thought maybe he might have won an award of some kind..."

"Have you talked to the teachers?" I said. "Maybe Dumbledore-?"

"He doesn't know anything," Tom cut me off bitterly. "I asked when we met. Professor Merrythought, think she'd know something? She's getting up there. And she likes me too. I couldn't stand the way she'd look at me, though, if she didn't after all."

I knew the look Tom was talking about. Barely concealed pity, a mixture of sympathy and condescension. It was a look we had all seen too many times, one I had seen a few times already here at Hogwarts. I wasn't as sensitive about it, but I knew Tom bristled whenever anyone shot him this glance, especially if it was from someone he knew.

"The ghosts," I said said slowly. "They'll have to be able to help you out; they're all hundreds of years old! And they hardly talk to us. They barely know you, even the Bloody Baron."

"I'm not asking him," Tom said. "I've never seen him as much open his mouth. If I can get him to talk, he wouldn't say anything."

"Another ghost," I pressed. "The one from Ravenclaw is smart, I'd guess."

"Yeah..." Tom agreed. "Where is she normally?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "You can ask one of the Ravenclaw kids."

"All right. I'll do that," Tom said. "I'll-I'll talk to her alone. But thanks for the idea."

"Sure," I said.

The Gray Lady. I thought she was very beautiful, but young too-she had died before she was supposed to. She was a solemn woman, maybe because of this, but I hoped she would still be willing to help Tom.

If she had, I never heard about it. Tom stopped coming to me, so assumed that he was unlucky once more. It was nearly a month before Tom gave up. Day after day, he would be brainstorming new possible sources, only for them to yield nothing. He was skilled at disguising his disappointment. If anything, it seemed to fuel his aptitude for magic. I was happy he had this solace at least.

A/N: I've noticed a few more people discovering this story lately, so your reviews would be much appreciated!