Thanks for a brilliant amount of reviews! Really, keep it up :)

Oh, and something to think about! In the movie, where you see Snape's final memories: Lily gets sorted into Gryffindor and, while Snape watches her walk down to the Gryffindor table she introduces herself to James ... But how on earth did James get sorted before her. Lily Evans. James Potter ... I always thought E came before P in the alphabet ... though that may just be me.

And yes, I think about stuff like this!

It's in our Blood

Chapter XXVI

Dragging his heavy, rugged and tattered trunk out after him as he stepped off the train, Tom found himself pushed back and forth in a sudden wave of Hogwarts students; the platform was one big chaos of noise and cramped spaces, parents and family members were eagerly pressing past others to greet their children. A tall witch swept her two daughters into a hug, a smaller girl squealing happily at the sight of her sisters, and he watched them with a frown. "How will you get home?" Avery, breathing heavily as the pureblood was juggling with both his trunk and a cage, spoke up and wiped his brow with a sleeve.

Tom shrugged lightly. "Walk, probably."

The greyish-brown barn owl hooted lowly before it began pecking at its wings; the two first year Slytherins weaved in and out of the crowd, towards the exit out to the rest of King's Cross Station where Avery had arranged to meet with his family. For Tom, on the other hand, he had a rather long, tedious stroll through the streets of London to the orphanage to look forward to; he was in no hurry to come back to his childhood nightmare, and it was quite irksome that he was not allowed to perform any magic outside of school …

At least he was hated so much by the other orphans that he would probably be left alone over the next couple of months; and, if he could get away with it – which he most likely could, with how the matron was practically terrified of him by then – Tom would lock himself away in his room, with only his books as company the entire holiday. He would have plenty of time so that he was more than prepared for his second year at Hogwarts. "This is my cousin, Michael Avery … Michael, this is Tom." The wizard was a tall, muscular man that towered several heads above the two boys; he grunted something – possibly a greeting – and his small, bead like, dark eyes lingered on Tom with barely hidden distaste.

Tom nodded, feeling incredibly scrutinized, and responded: "Hello." A rather uncomfortable silence fell over the three wizards; Avery shifted on his feet and cleared his throat, but before the pureblood was able to speak, Tom pulled the handle of his trunk up close and, with a polite smile, prepared his departure: "I should be going. Have a nice holiday, Peter–" he nodded at the man. "–Mr. Avery."

"Right … Bye, Tom."

Waiting in line with all the others that were leaving Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he heaved a great, exasperated sigh; a small boy, perched on top of his father's shoulders, beamed brightly down at Tom and chattered incoherent words to catch his attention. The air was heavy from smoke and steam, voices loudly boomed in his ears and he was eager to get out into the open, away from the crowd. All around him people hugged in joy and his frown deepened.

The guard, stationed at the exit, watched as people vanished through the brick wall and out into the Muggle world without causing trouble and the old wizard quickly ushered Tom forward. Tom slipped through the magical barrier and, with the weird sensation of passing through solid stone, stumbled out onto the other side; he straightened up, eyes shifting over the travellers around him, and dragged the trunk out of the station.

The evening air was warm and the darkening skies were streaked red, orange and yellow as the sun set in the distance; birds chirped from their hidden nests in the shadows of the tall buildings and the cries of a newspaper boy, eager to sell his last share for the day, rang loudly over the noise of the crowd. No one paid any attention to the twelve year old wizard or his tattered trunk, filled with robes, books about magic and strange ingredients for potions. Tom quickly made his way down the busy street, adults passing by in their own world on their way home from work.

He had often run errands for the matron of the orphanage and was used to the intricate network of crowded roads and dark, smelly alleys, and he had soon after gotten off the hectic main streets and, the heavy trunk bumping against the cobbled stones, he walked down the silent road towards an old, gloomy grey building at the square at the end of the road.

With fronts grimy and unwelcoming, the houses lining the left side of the road loomed up like watchful stone faces in the dark, the gardens overgrown with weed and windows broken; one of the streetlamps sputtered before, just as Tom passed under the lamp, it flickered one final time and blacked out. A dog barked loudly a few blocks away. The large, neglected park was as creepy as he remembered it to be; the plants had been left alone and had overtaken the small pebble paths, creating an impenetrable wilderness of vines and nettles.

The iron wrought fence had rusted away, brownish-red dust covered the intricate patterns of the arched entrance; what had once been a beautiful face was now a wretched, stain-covered grimace as the marble angel gazed towards the starry night above, cursing her own reality. A laurel tree had wrapped its vines around the woman's body, nearly covered the entire statue in a cocoon of leaves and Tom, who had paused in his steps, almost pitied it.

He sighed and pried his eyes off the chained angel; as Tom stared up at Wool's Orphanage he almost turned on his heel and walked away again, but he forced himself to open the iron gates and step inside the small yard. The grass was yellowing and dry from the heat. With hinges creaking he locked the gate after him. The square building was surrounded by high railings which, more than anything, felt like a prison to Tom, a prison to trap himself and the other orphans in this dreadful place; he swallowed hard and knocked at the door. Two months, he reassured himself as he waited for someone to open; he would soon be back at Hogwarts and away from this horrible place that he had, not long ago, been forced to call home.

But no more. In less than a year, Hogwarts had become much more like a home than the orphanage had ever been to him. Through the door he heard a voice and, with footsteps approaching, a woman's face appeared shortly after; Mrs. Cole's face paled immediately as her eyes fell on him. She almost seemed to consider shutting the door again – Tom silently, truthfully, hoped she would – but then the matron stepped aside. "So you're back, I see. Come in then," he dragged the trunk in quickly and, waiting for the elderly woman to shut the door, he watched her indifferently. "You are too late for supper, but I'll ask Martha to prepare something. Your room is the same as last time."

As it appeared neither had anything more to say to the other, Tom climbed the narrow stairs towards his usual room on the second floor; placing the trunk against one of the dull walls, caked with grey paint, he closed the door and, in the process, ignored a few curious heads, poking out from another nearby room – they vanished, terrified, as he made eye contact with them. Tom ran a hand through his hair. His eyes scanned over the dark walls, the old, wooden desk and the small bed, as well as the cupboard, which were the only things in the cramped room.

At first Tom only stood there, resigned and with shoulders slumped, in the middle of the room.

Two months …

The first morning Elana woke up after having come back home, she just lay in her bed and wondered why the dormitory was so bright. She had left the window open during the night, as she was not used to the heat of the room; shifting uncomfortably in what used to be her bed – but was now rather that of a stranger's – Elana, rubbing her eyes from sleep, sat up and stretched. The first rays of sun illuminated the bedroom in a golden glow and the young witch merely sat there, staring thoughtfully ahead of herself.

Her trunk stood in the middle of the room, opened and with several items scattered over the floor and the end of her bed; she had yet to properly unpack her belongings, but had, after she had returned home and was left to herself, merely dug through the top layer of clothes to her books; the big stack of history books on her nightstand had been placed within reach and she had, unable to really fall asleep, read through several – interesting, but useless – chapters on pureblood nobility. On top of the pile was the brown teddy bear, watching over her, the pink ribbon slightly askew.

She stared back into its beady eyes and stifled a yawn. Elana still had no clue who would have sent it as a Christmas present. A blackbird chirped cheerily outside and she, rather reluctantly, got out of bed. Her toes curled in preparation to face the cold stone floor, but once more she had to remember that she was no longer at Hogwarts and she peered down; chuckling and feeling the soft wool carpet under her feet, Elana shuffled across the room towards the grand windows.

The curtains were pulled aside to properly allow the morning sun to fill the room; a fresh gust of wind brushed against her face as Elana pulled the window inwards, allowing only a faint crack open between the glass and the frame. She could smell the roses in full bloom from the garden.

Elana heaved a sigh, contemplating whether she should go down for breakfast or not; neither of her parents had been present at Darkwood Manor to welcome their children back, but, with the sun barely visible above the horizon, there was a chance they were still in the house and a chance she would run into them. As much as she enjoyed the awkward and tense silence – and the conversations even more so – Elana decided to wait just a tad longer.

She slumped down on the floor, folded her legs under her and bored began to shift through the contents of the trunk. Soon after the floor was covered in piles of used and unused clothes; first year curriculum books – which would be owled to her back at Hogwarts next year – and more useful books; Potions ingredients; her brass scales; the telescope for Astrology. Elana withdrew her hand as she felt the sharp edge of glass, cutting the tip of her finger. Feeling the iron taste of blood in her mouth as she licked the fresh cut, she carefully rummaged through the trunk and picked out the worst glass shards from the broken vial.

When she was done unpacking Elana suddenly found herself packing once more; she froze in the middle of folding together a clean school uniform and her brow furrowed. Placing the grey skirt in her lap, she leaned back her head and stared up at the dark mahogany ceiling, hair tickling the back of her neck and shoulders. How she wanted to get out of this house already …

Pop!

Elana flinched in shock as a small house-elf appeared out of thin air at her side. The creature's bat like ears perked up as it spoke, its squeaky voice high: "The young Miss has been requested to join her family in the dining room." Great. She waved off the fretting servant dismissively, having received her parents' summons. When the elf had vanished once more, Elana stood up with a sigh; so much for avoiding them. Putting on whatever was first in her drawers she stepped out into the dark hallway and ran a hand through her hair to loosen the worst knots.

They could not expect her to look decent this early in the morning, and if they did – her mother in particular – then it was their own fault for summoning her in the first place without further instructions. Ancient, deceased relatives slumbered in their portraits, old wizards and witches, their clothes and arms richly decorated in a grand display of power and wealth; the heavy drapes were drawn shut over the arched windows and barely any light managed to break through the gaps of the fabric. The footsteps of her bare feet were silenced by the emerald green rug as she scampered down the marble stairway into the entrance hall.

The suffocating, stuffed air from upstairs was brushed aside as a fresh breeze swept in through the opened double doors. Elana got a brief look of the outsides before she steered away, towards the rooms on the ground floor; the neatly and precisely cut juniper bushes, the pebbled lane glittered in the morning sun and the trees of the forest, creating a thick wall of wilderness around most of the grounds.

Voices reached her ears as Elana stepped through the white doorway into the family's dining room. Her mother glanced up, grey blue eyes narrowed slightly in disapproval, and she drawled out towards her daughter: "That took you long enough, Elana. You should not expect us to wait, your father and I have far greater things to attend to." Biting back a sour remark, the young witch curtsied quickly at both her parents and slid into a seat at the table.

Elana created a brief eye contact with her brother, before he redirected his attention to a copy of the Daily Prophet; having lost all appetite at her mother's kind words, she helped herself to a cup of tea and awaited the right moment to speak. Pressing the porcelain cup to her lips she glanced towards her parents; it had been almost half a year since she had last seen them, but – unlike most children her age – Elana had certainly not missed them.

They felt, more than ever, like complete strangers to her.

The woman's tall and slender figure was composed as she exchanged a few words with her husband, her long, corn-yellow, but greying, hair pulled tightly away from her hardened face and lips narrowed into a thin line. Elana barely knew this woman and had inherited almost none of her features … If any at all. "I would like to ask for permission to use the library," she spoke lowly, when the adults' conversation had reached an end.

Her father looked up towards her. "Why?"

"I was tasked to find the Heir of Slytherin and for that I need access to the library files," fighting back the urge to sink down into her chair, her father's dark gaze intimidating as always, she stood her ground. And she well knew she would get her will in this case.

A short silence followed her words, but in the end the wizard responded: "Very well, but only under surveillance; I will not have you ruin the family's prized collection. Your brother will always be present, do I make myself clear?" The siblings nodded in understanding. Elliot had far better things to do than look after her – and they both knew she had no plans to wreck the place – so Elana expected, she would be able to be alone in the library once in a while.

And during that time she had no plans at all to look for clues to discover the heir; in fact, she already had quite the hunch where to find Riddle's ancestors, even if the young wizard had strongly requested her to not look into it. Everyone believed her to be far from finished in her search, but Elana felt rather sure she was incredibly close to the truth.

No … What was far more interesting were those secret Dark Arts books.

When Elana could finally excuse herself from the table – her parents had left for work – and return to the comforts of her bedroom, she found a great, snowy white owl pecking away at the glass of the window for attention; quickly allowing it in, she grabbed the white envelope and, with the big bird tamely perched on her shoulder, she pried it open to find a long letter addressed to her. A smile crept over her lips.

Isabella certainly did not wait long before writing.

But deciding against reading the letter inside, where she could be interrupted at any given moment, she folded the paper together carefully, put on a pair of loafers and quickly left the room; the owl had complained briefly, annoyed that the comfortable shoulder had suddenly disappeared, but had shortly after found another good spot next to the bear and dozed off. Elana nearly ran into her brother half-way down the stairs and she hurried to hide the letter behind her back, a polite smile masking her startled expression immediately.

"Albert and Mathew will be here later," he informed her, eyebrow partly raised as he – observant as always, unfortunately – had noticed her odd behaviour. Elana gave a nod and descended another step, making sure to keep her back away from him at all times. "Where are you going?" Elliot inquired, eyes now narrowed completely.

"Out."

"Make sure not to wander too far away."

"Of course not. I will be back later to greet our guests."

Taking two steps at a time, Elana fled the scene and nearly bolted out through the open doors, away from her suspicious brother. Such trouble she would be in if he requested to see the letter … Coming to a halt outside, she took a deep breath and considered where to go for some privacy; the three Slytherin Quidditch players would without a doubt practice the very minute they met, and she would rather not have them pop out of nowhere and take her by surprise.

Steering away from the gravel path and through the grass, wet from the morning dew, Elana stepped into the cool shadows of the woods.

She had often sought refuge under the dense canopy of the forest, alone, and wandered as far as the northern boarders where her family's grounds reached an end; the tall beech woods covered the ground in almost complete shadow, restricting the growth of other plants except for a thick carpet of bluebells – which had always sparked her imagination as a child – that reigned supreme below her feet. Elana knew where she was going. Her feet led the way; past the fallen tree trunk, covered in moss and mushrooms; down the grassy slopes until she reached the creek and then ...

A faint chuckle of running water could be heard ahead and Elana sped up. The steady stream lazily snaked its way through the landscape, weaving in and out between the tall trees; fallen leafs were swept away in the current and smooth stones littered the ground below her feet. She followed the water further downhill, kicking up small stones and pebbles as she went, until the trees opened up ahead into a bright glade; Elana stepped out into the grassy meadow, shielding her eyes from the dazzling sun that was finally able to reach the land.

One time, when she had aimlessly wandered the woods, had she stumbled across the long forgotten clearing; there had once been an old cottage, long before her time, but all that was left of the house now were the rubbles and the collapsed roof, sooty and burned as if from a fire. Elana's attention flickered towards a stone well, overgrown with weeds, and she shivered inwardly as a memory flashed her mind; she lay down into the grass, brushed a strand of hair from her face and unfolded the letter.

Dear Elana,

I shall keep my letters as short as possible, but I do hope you will be able to respond – if you are unable to it is absolutely fine, of course. How are you? My parents send their regards, I've told them quite a lot about you. The good things, not that I mean there is anything bad about you though. And they're eager to meet you, but I guess that is impossible at the moment. Though if you ever have the chance you can always come visit us. It would be wonderful, don't you think?

Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts as much as I am? I'm practically dying already. Some of the classes are rather dull - History of Magic mostly, Professor Binns really can kill the fun of even the most exciting subjects - but it's worth it. Potions for example. Remember we did the Dreamless Sleeping potion together? I liked that ... let's partner up more often? Or that might not be a good idea ...

Did you see my owl? I wasn't sure if I should pick a really midnight black one of this one, but I settled with a snowy owl – I'm glad I did. He's beautiful. If you want to you can use him to send a reply.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Elana smiled.

There had been a few subtle hints towards Isabella's unfortunately blood status which Elana felt obliged to point out in her response; but other than that it felt nice to have someone to write with. While staring up onto the light blue sky, watching puffy clouds drift by slowly, she picked off grass straws absentmindedly and created a small pile at her side. Leafs and branches rustled in the gentle breeze, a bird whistled from somewhere within the forest. The air was clean.

Her eyelids felt heavy …

It did not take long before she dozed off.