Another not so long chapter, but I've discovered I quite like writing my SiriusxOC story ... Elana might be a bit OCC compared to earlier but I promise she isn't; I just believe she's going through a change after she has gained "friends" and become aware of others than herself - and she's not completely aware of how to interact with them.

But I hope you all enjoy this chapter as always!

It's in our Blood

Chapter XXV

While the first years gathered their belongings on the Quidditch pitch below, laughing and talking loudly over the howling wind, Tom glanced sideways onto the witch before he, closing the old book in the process, stood up. Tom slung his bag over his shoulder, feeling the weight of his own books. "We should get going as well," the pureblood responded with a soft hum and a nod. Fowl got up on her feet and looked him straight in the eye. "At least if we want to make it for class." They had to put the books away quickly, or they would be forced to bring them along to their next class.

They had read though several books; old tomes and parchment, so dusty and wrinkled over time Tom could barely make out the letters, but they had come across nothing helpful at all. He felt quite discouraged by their lack of useful information, as if they were on some wild goose chase. Perhaps he was not meant to learn anything about his heritage; he was to forever stay an orphan, an insignificant half-blood, an outcast. "Your mother …?" Fowl spoke slowly but, as if she regretted her words, trailed off; she in stead picked up a stack of books and headed towards the stairs.

"What?" He called after her, but she hurriedly disappeared in the shadows down the steps. Tom picked up the remaining stack and pursued her; her footsteps echoed further down, though he managed to catch up with her. "What about her?" The girl came to a halt, inches from the entrance and the sunlight, and she turned her face towards him. Her brow was furrowed in thought. "What about my mother?"

She shook her head and, with a faint smile, spoke: "It was nothing. I was merely thinking something …" Then the witch stepped out into the open; shielding her eyes from the bright light of the morning sun, Fowl looked towards the first years. Tom paused at her side, eyes, narrowed in suspicion, still lingering on her shorter frame and he carefully considered her words.

Why would she even consider his mother?

His weak, pathetic mother, who had abandoned him after birth in that awful place …

An idea struck him. Was there a reason he could not find his father's name in any wizarding texts? A reason why the name of Riddle had left no traces in history? Perhaps he was not the one who had passed on the blood of Salazar Slytherin to Tom. Perhaps … It was his mother? His hands balled into fists and he, angered by the very thought, bit the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood; the iron taste filled his mouth as he discarded that ridiculous thought. If his mother really had been a witch, why had she not saved herself?

No, his mother had been a weak Muggle woman with no real power to get through life; so weak she had thrown away her newborn child to an unknown fate, so weak she did not care for her very own son enough to stay in this world. So pathetic. Tom was not sure which of them he hated most, his mother or his father, but he knew both of them had to be pitiable creatures to abandon him like that. And if he ever saw his father ... "I advice you to never bring up the subject of my mother," he spoke, his voice so low it barely escaped his lips. The witch turned to him. "Never again."

Fowl silently watched him, their eyes locked, but then she gave a shrug. "Very well," it was clear she was dissatisfied with his harsh words, but appeared to accept his command and the witch took a step closer. "Give me your books. You can wait for Avery if you like, then I shall take them to my dorm." Her tone of voice was cold compared to earlier; Tom quickly added his books to the pile and watched the witch's retreating back. Another gust of wind blew over the Quidditch pitch.

He heaved a sigh.

It had turned darker.

Heavy, greying clouds drifted in over the Black Lake towards them, blocking out the winter sun.

The Slytherin girl disappeared into the castle just as another familiar voice called out to him: "There you are, Tom!" Avery came strolling towards him, broom slung over his shoulder and cheeks aflame from the exercise but also from the cold, and he appeared to be in a good mood. The pureblood's head craned slightly to the side as he looked around, then he blinked. "Where's Fowl?"

"She left," he responded. The two then made their way up the slopes, faint patches of green grass peeked up through the thin layer of snow, and they headed towards Hogwarts and the day's first lesson; Tom listened, mind deep in thought, to Avery's stories from practice, when the first drop hit them. In the blink of an eye heavy raindrops cascaded from the skies and they were forced to, along with the other first years, make a run for the castle's great doors; breathing heavily, Tom stopped inside the entrance hall, safely away from the sudden downpour, and felt his soaked school uniform cling to his arms and legs.

They had no time to get changed and his face fell at the thought of spending History of Magic, drenched to the bone. His shoes sloshed against the stone steps, and he expected the Caretaker to flip at the mud the two boys had dragged in with them. "We should ask her for that hot-air charm she used before …" Avery mumbled, wringing his sleeve so hard that water dripped onto the marble floor. "But at least Binns won't notice us flooding his classroom."

It was only a short walk for the classroom, located on the first floor, and the two boys stepped inside before the professor's arrival. Almost as if Avery had gotten used to – and accepted – the witch's presence, he immediately walked to where she was seated, pulled out a chair and slumped down. Her attention lingered briefly op him, eyeing the dripping wet robes and his damp hair, clinging to his cheeks and forehead, then she looked out the window; Tom watched how her mouth formed a slight O as if it was first then the witch noticed the weather. "Good I left early," she mused.

This, of course, earned her a dirty look from Avery.

Tom took a seat.

History of Magic was probably regarded as the most boring and tedious class by every student at Hogwarts, and it was no different for Tom. Shimmering back and forth across the floor in front of the class, the old ghost, professor Binns, droned on endlessly in a monotone voice about Emeric the Evil, and with that lulled practically all – even the most studious of Ravenclaws – into sleep. Avery did not even bother disguising his boredom, nodding off ever so often with his face rested against his book and eyelids fluttering shut.

His pheasant-feathered quill wavered back and forth as Tom scribbled across the rough, yellowy parchment; he barely paid attention and would at times find himself stalled halfway through a letter. Slaughtered in a fero– He had done it again; Tom wiped his eyes with the end of his sleeve and stifled a yawn.

A faint snore could be heard a few tables away.

Two Ravenclaw girls had huddled together, giggling and whispering, over a piece of parchment and was completely ignorant of the lecture; the boy next to them was, broadly grinning, drawing an ink face on his sleeping friend; and the pureblood witch on his left was, rather intrigued, observing her own nails. The rain pounded heavily against the windows to the classroom, Tom's clothes felt clammy against his skin and he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

Light flashed over the dark grey skies and a faint rumble could be hear somewhere in the distance; the forbidden forest, tall shadows weaving in the wind, covered most of the visible grounds and he spotted a large bird taking cover in between the branches of the trees. A small note landed on his desk. Tom's attention flickered to the black haired witch, who returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow and a nod towards the small, crumbled piece of paper; he picked it up and unfolded the message.

Your full name?

His brow furrowed.

Flipping over the parchment, he scribbled down a response.

Tom M. Riddle. Why?

He lobbed it back at the witch. Her eyes scanned it quickly and ripped off a new shred, which she immediately wrote something on; Fowl then tossed it over Avery to Tom, fixing her hair in the process with a shake of the head.

Your full name, I asked.

Tom sighed.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. Why, I asked.

The witch's mouth turned into a thin, white line and she, glancing sideways up at him, waved off the last part of his message. He never received an answer. So Tom spent the remainder of the class staring her down, consumed by thought; asking about his mother, now his full name … Fowl, without a doubt, was on to something – something she was not prepared to share with him, if she planned to share it with him at all. Rather typical of her.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Avery's stomach growled loudly.

Elana folded the white shirt together neatly, before she placed it in her trunk with the rest of her belongings. The dormitory was abandoned except from her, the other girls had already packed and were down at dinner; she would join them shortly, but had, too caught up with other things, forgotten to pack her things in time. The beady eyes of the teddy bear stared hollow back at her as she held it up.

Then, with a sigh, she put it down and closed the trunk with a thud.

The witch exited the room, passed through the dark Common Room – eyes flickering towards the few Slytherins still there – and climbed the stairs; chirping bird calls reached her through the open doors, as well as the warm night air and the smell of summer. The Great Hall buzzed with excitement, but Elana felt her stomach churn with the shimmers of the hourglasses catching her attention.

She swallowed hard.

Her mind froze, when, all of a sudden, a pair of hands latched onto her upper arm. "Can I barrow you for a minute, Elana?" The all too familiar voice made the pureblood instantly steer away from the crowd; she came face to face with Isabella in the same hidden niche that she had used months before in her chat with the Herbology professor. The young, brown haired witch gave a small, nervous smile as she spoke: "To think our first year has gone so fast …"

"I told you it would be best to ignore me," she responded, the edge of her voice harder than she had wanted it to be. "If someone saw us, if my brother saw us …" Panic began to surface and her eyes attentively flickered towards the stream of people; Elana had done her best to avoid the Gryffindor and she had expected the girl to follow suit, but clearly not. "Please, Isabella, go back."

She shook her head meekly, still smiling. "I just want to ask a question first."

"All right, but fast."

"Can I mail you over the summer? My mum promised she'd buy me an owl, so I thought we could possibly talk that way … no one would see us together and you're my friend, right?" Elana considered it; biting her lip hard she finally lowered her head in defeat. Even though she was not for admitting it, she wanted a friend like that. Someone you could tell anything, no secrets, no deceit. Someone you did not keep close just to use them for her own gain. Isabella was that girl – she did not care for her status as a pureblood witch and never would.

"Very well. Do you have any paper so I can get your–"

A voice cut her short and both girls turned to look at the boy. "Is she bothering you again?" The younger Potter brother stood, arms crossed and a with grim, angered expression, and watched the unlikely pair. "If she is I'll hex her into next month, I swear …"

"No! Tyler, we're just talking." Isabella waved her hands dismissively, but the wizard's eyes narrowed sceptically, glaring hard at Elana. "Just go inside, I'll be there shortly. Really! I was the one who wanted to talk. Go." He huffed, but – with a final "Get me if she does anything, all right?" – he stomped off towards the Great Hall. "I'm sorry … He still believes you're … Well– Right, address?" She rustled through her pockets and shortly after pulled a small scrap of parchment and a pencil up from the folders.

Elana wrote her family's home on the small piece and handed it back. "Make sure you address the letter to me, and then our housekeeper will probably leave it unopened. Hopefully. But please do avoid any suspicious subjects that might give you away – and never put your own name." The girl nodded at every word.

Isabella leaned forward and embraced her; the witch's thin arms were trembling slightly and Elana carefully returned the hug. Then the witch let go and beamed, clutching the small scrap of paper closely. "Thank you!" Then she turned and walked away without a single glance back; Elana could not help but smile faintly, a bubbly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Even after all she had done, the Gryffindor still cared for her like that.

Like a friend.

Following a pair of Ravenclaw girls she entered the hall, where most of the students of Hogwarts had already gathered. Great emerald green banners hung from the ceiling. Her brother motioned her over. Slipping down in a seat at the Slytherin table next to Gamp, she nodded curtly to greet the fifth year boys; the End-of-Term feast was about to begin. Everyone appeared in great spirits; exams were over and most looked forward to the summer holiday where they could once more meet with their families at home. Elana, on the other hand, dreaded that.

Tom looked briefly towards her.

The months had passed in the blink of an eye and, unfortunately, had been absolutely fruitless for the two first years. Book after book, day after day had they searched but in vain; Elana had had a slight hunch, but she was uncertain if she should follow up on it or not and had decided to keep quiet for now – once she returned home, she would check the library for anything useful. Brushing a strand of hair from her face, she suppressed a sigh.

"Any plans for the holiday?" Gamp asked, with both his elbows on the table as he looked from Elliot to Selwyn. Her eyes moved away from the first year to the teachers' table; Slughorn looked to have downed one or two drinks already, the Potions Master, face flushed, rambled on to those nearest him. Their detentions, several days every week, had at least created a great opportunity to ingratiate themselves with the professor, which had made the elderly man become rather fond with both her and Riddle.

Far to the right at the table sat both the Beery members; the witch had returned less than a month earlier, strict as always, and had taken over the first year classes once more. Elana could not be too sure, but it appeared the professor no longer disliked her as much as before – and she suspected the young nephew to be the reason why. Her eyes flickered to Selwyn. The wizard had kept his part of the deal and had said nothing.

The great doors closed, indicating the feast was about to commence. All eyes turned to the Headmaster, who had stood from the golden chair in the middle, and a hushed silence fell over the room. Dippet overlooked the faces of his students, stroking his long, white beard before his voice echoed throughout the room: "Another year has come to an end! I hope you have all learned many a great things and I wish the seventh years a wonderful future outside the school, use the wisdom you have gained well. Now, before the banquet shall begin, the house cup needs awarding."

Elana's paling reflection stared directly back at her, as she kept her face low and her attention on the golden plate in front of her; she had no wish to see the disheartened or livid faces of her housemates at what was about to happen; the other tables murmured in excitement and she sank further down in her seat. No one really knew what had caused the Slytherins to lose two hundred points over the Christmas break, but hushed rumours had circulated amongst the witches and wizards.

All mentioned the same person.

Elana Fowl.

Her.

"The points are as thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and fifty-two; Slytherin has four hundred and twenty-six and Gryffindor, four hundred and seventy-two. Which means–" The Headmaster's voice barely reached out as a storm of cheering and clapping erupted from three of the four tables, as most of the school celebrated the dethronement of Slytherin for the first time in over ten years. "–it is time to change the decorations! Well done, Gryffindor."

Elana could almost touch frustration that hung in the air, while her ears rang from the deafening applause from the rest; she looked up in time to see the emerald green banners become scarlet red, the silver turned gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering lion took its place. She could feel her brother's disappointed gaze and she felt downright sick. The feast appeared on the table in front of them, but, while the rest of the school celebrated, none of them felt like touching anything. Their defeat had smothered any excitement.

"Watch your disgrace of a sister next time, Fowl!" Someone spat. "Or better, keep her at home after the summer!"

Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her skirt. Tears pressed on at the corner of her eyes. Elana knew the blame would fall on her and rightfully so, but the embarrassment felt almost unbearable. Her ears burned and she could feel all eyes on her, but not even once did she look up at the person speaking – or rather, yelling. "Do you mind repeating that, Blishwick? Because I am sure I did not hear you correctly just now." Selwyn's tone was icily cold and Elana glanced through her bangs up at the wizard; his eyes were narrowed into thin slits, glaring towards the other boy, appearing unusually intimidating.

"Oh, I think I heard him quite clearly, Mathew." Elliot's smile was in place as usual as he rested an elbow on the table, casually responding. But those that knew him well ... "He apparently thinks of my sister as a disgrace. Am I right, Blishwick?" The table had turned completely silent, everyone else had frozen on the spot and, terrified, looked from the fifth year group and back at the Slytherin goal keeper. They all knew the wizard had said too much. "That certainly is a pity …"

"Ah, n–no! I didn't mean it like that … I just … Nothing."

"Of course not." Even though her brother probably was not finished with the unfortunate wizard, he was unable to act further with the professors present. But Blishwick was far from punished enough to satisfy the Fowl. She felt his gaze linger on her again. "Remember to be more careful in the future." The corner of her mouth tugged up slightly and a small smile crept over her lips. They had protected her.

She nodded in reply.

A shrill whistle blew. Elana leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the compartment window, out onto the Hogsmeade station, bathed in the warm, blazing sunlight, and the small group of red buildings that lined the platform. Through the reflection she could see the two wizards clearly and she forced back a sigh. After what had happened at the feast the night before, Elliot had taken all precautions and ordered her to spend the train ride with his friends. Her brother was at the Prefects' meeting and had left her in Selwyn's and Gamp's care.

She glanced up on her trunk, stuffed away above her and she regretted packing away all of her books. Without really wanting to, Elana suddenly remembered the last time she had been onboard the Hogwarts Express. Back then there had been another way to kill time, but there was no way she could go meet with the witch now; she looked forward to exchanging mail though. Elana had never done that before with anyone …

With a final call from the conductor, the train began to move, first slow but then it picked up speed, and soon after Elana watched the familiar landscape; the tall, green trees of the forest; the sloped hills; and the light blue sky vanish in the horizon. In some way she missed Hogwarts already. Even if she always had to keep up appearances, to always show respect and be polite towards the professors, there were still times she had felt happier than she had ever been at home.

Elana almost snorted at her own sentimentality. Happiness.

In a few months she would be back; probably meeting up with Riddle to exchange any progress with their search. She had been unable to talk to the wizard ever since the banquet … Elana felt confident in her belief that he was, indeed, the heir of Salazar Slytherin, even though they could not find any records of his family; he had insisted that it was his father, from whom he had inherited his magical genes but she became increasingly unsure about it. Her brow furrowed in thought. She had never given any thought as to why he knew nothing of his parents, but then it dawned on her.

Riddle was an orphan.

The used books and robes, him staying over the Christmas holiday … Everything.

Elana felt unbelievably stupid to not have noticed earlier.

With a rattle, an elderly witch stuck her head into the compartment with a bright smile, pushing a trolley in front of her. "Can I get you sweeties anything?" Never being one for sweets, she wrinkled her nose and was about to decline when a memory suddenly surfaced in her mind. The day they had snuck out of Hogwarts through the secret passage to the Honeydukes, Elana had seen Riddle inspect some box and denied, after she asked if he was interested in buying it.

Could he even afford it if he wanted to?

"Actually, I would like package of Bertie Bott's, please." Elana said, surprising even herself in the process.

The plump woman gave a bright smile and rustled through the insides of the trolley. "Right, dear, anything else?"

"No, thank you." Elana half-stood from her seat as she tried to fish some money out of her pockets, while, with her free hand, accepted the box of beans. "One moment–"

"Let me," astonished, she watched Selwyn pay and, the trolley rattling further down the train, she slumped back into her seat. "I never knew you liked sweets." He spoke with a smile. The pureblood nodded towards the brightly coloured box in her lap and raised an eyebrow in question; Elana fumbled embarrassed with the small ribbon.

"Not really, I just … felt like buying it. Thank you, I will pay you once Elliot gets back."

He waved her off. "Don't worry about it."

The compartment fell silent again and Elana absentmindedly turned the box in her hands, a small smile at her lips; there was probably no chance for her to give the beans to Riddle over the holiday, so it would have to wait until they met again– she froze. What was she doing? She had just bought sweets for someone else? The smile was wiped off her face and she shook her head in disbelief. Something was definitely wrong with her.

Buying sweets for Riddle …

Really?