Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews.

Tom sat with her still that day, but there was quietness there; a sullenness that she recognize all too often.

It made it hard for her to concentrate in class, to enjoy the lessons. Her twin would stare and listen to the professors, yes, but he hardly acknowledged her, except to ask for a quill or to pass a book.

Yet, while she believed his behaviour should hurt, it did not.

Instead she too remained silent. She had been the first to play the game, and out of habit she fell into the same steps.

She was confused, however, by the anger. He had gladly accepted that their father had abandoned them, but as soon as he heard that their mother's family did the same…it was like it stoked an anger that she realised had been long dormant.

Tom had always hated their mother.

She recalled the first time they learned that their mother had died of childbirth, staying just long enough to grant him his name. The tantrum had been hideous. She remembered Tom screaming that the staff members were liars and began to hit them with his fists and magic. Mary did not remember how it ended except that Tom had to be locked in the cupboard for hours until he could calm down.

That night was the first time she snuck into his room. Tom was tossing and turning in his bed, signs of magic shook the furniture around him. Quietly, she slipped beside his trembling body and held him, murmuring lullabies until he drifted off to deep sleep. That whole night, he slept while holding on to her like she was his lifeline. It took her a week before she could trust him to not explode in anger while he slept.

From that point forward, any mentions of Merope would have made his face twist in fury. It was made especially worst because some of the crueller children condemned him, saying that he murdered their mother.

They don't say it very long, of course, but it must have needled him.

It was a terrible accusation but some part of him – the one that slipped beside Mary at night – believed that if Merope had not died, whether by his birth or not, they would not be stuck there. They would be far away, away from the bleak children, bland foods and cold beds.

Mary could not tell him that Wools was far, far, better. And that life under the Gaunts would have been a nightmare turned worst. Merope had been sad enough to drug and rape a young man out of loneliness – what would she have done to them? To the boy who would eventually resemble the same man who escaped her? Or Mary herself? God, Mary did not like to think what would have happened when Marvolo was released from prison. Or worst, Morfin.

She doubted that Merope would have lifted a finger to save them.

As for the Riddles? Ha! Marriage or not, in their eyes, they were symbols of an embarrassing union. Considering that the book mentioned that they were snobs and nobody wasted any pity on them as they were murdered, she doubted their status would be any better.

Part of her wanted to shake him, to scream the truth and make him accept it. Demand that he let go of this obsession with the past so he could move on.

But she couldn't because she was the same as him. Except, as she liked to comfort the demons, she doubted she'd turn into a megalomaniac bent of destruction. An ugly voice reminded her that her plan involved becoming Master of Death – so she had no right to complain.

It was because of this, she shrugged when Tom decided to spend his free time with the other boys in their year.

"Of course." She replied, taking some sandwiches with her. He did not suggest they go the library and she's part relieved by it. Perhaps what he needed was time to let her information sink in. In the meantime she decided to head to the common room and read some books.

The common room was buzzed with students doing their homework and chatting. She slipped onto an empty chair and propped up one of the books she had borrowed and she allowed the words to take her away.

"Mary."

She groaned, her neck felt stiff and she stirred. Mary wondered why everything was so dark before she realized she must've dozed off. Yawning she stretched her arm and faced her brother.

"T-Tom?"

"You missed dinner." He motioned and pushed a plate of food towards her.

"Oh…thank you." She muttered, sitting up and taking the goblet of drink to her parched lips. Tom sat down beside her, his eyes fell onto the books she had been reading.

There was a moment of silence as she consumed her food.

"…Mary?" he started to speak. The witch turned towards her brother.

"You were right." He uttered so quietly, Mary thought she misheard.

"…I am?" Tom began to fidget and suddenly he looked his age.

"Yes. I looked it up. The dates, the names, and…it fits."

Mary nearly dropped the plate on her lap – she had expected Tom would take weeks to accept or come to that conclusion but here he was, looking so…so…

…defeated.

"Tom." She motioned as she placed her hand over his. They were cold.

"I don't know why they never came for us. But, think of it, that woman gave birth to us at an orphanage. Maybe…maybe she was away from them and she died before she managed to tell our…" he paused as the next word felt unfamiliar to him, "Our grandfather about us." He added. Mary hid her awe at just how close he had gotten to the truth. He gripped her hand, eyes down to his lap.

"Maybe they don't know we exist." He continued before looking up to her, his eyes grim.

Mary replied with a white lie, "That makes sense. Maybe they don't know about us." And you hope they don't but then Tom spoke again.

"So I wrote to them."

There was a pause as your hand tightened around his.

"You – what?" Mary shrieked, bolting up to her feet. Tom was startled but pulled her down, even as she started to hyperventilate.

"Tom –"

"No, listen, I wrote telling about us to them."

"Tom – we don't even know if we are the Gaunts!" she hissed, furious. How could he do this? Does he not know what the Gaunts are like? Now it was Tom's turn to frown.

"You said they could be. That they were the only ones that fit – why are you angry now?"

"Because – " she snapped, before stopping herself from blurting out the truth. Well, Tom needed to know but not like this. Mary took a deep breath as she tried to utter why writing to Marvolo was a terrible, horrendous idea without coming off as someone who knew too much.

"Because, the Gaunts are known to be mad! There's a reason why they haven't stepped a single foot in Hogwarts in decades – they hate anyone who is not pureblood!"

"So? Maybe our father is a wizard too?"

"Tom – there had been no records of any wizards or witch bearing the name Riddle. He could be a Muggle for all we know! Did you know what they did to anyone who even married a Muggle?" Mary started, ignoring the hush someone threw their way.

"Mary – you're being loud…"

"Tom, they murdered them. They murdered them." She said, gravely, recalled the tale of a certain Gaunt who murdered any non-purebloods on the spot.

"You don't know that he'd do that to us!"

"Tom, Marvolo and Morfin were sent to Azkaban because they hurt a Muggle. Our mother likely fled them when they were pregnant with us. And you wrote to them!"

Tom snarled, this time he stood up, baring his teeth.

"One moment you're telling me that we couldn't be Gaunts and the next you make it sound as if we are! Which one is it, Mary?"

"I don't know if we are or if we're not – but you shouldn't have written to them! Who knows what they'd do if they found out a half-blood dared to write to them asking if they're family!"

"We're not half-bloods! We don't know if our father is a Muggle or a Wizard – stop assuming he is one!" he yelled back.

"If you two don't keep it down, it would be detention Riddle!" someone else intruded. The twins snapped their head towards the voice – a sixth year glared down on both of them, his prefect pin glittered under the lights.

"This is a private conversation," Tom said, his face turning red at the intrusion. The prefect narrowed his eyes.

"And this is the common room. If you want a private a conversation, I suggest you do it elsewhere. You're disturbing the others." He motioned, seemingly unimpressed by Tom. Mary felt a twinge of fear at the dark look on her brother's face, fearing for a moment that he might hex the elder student. But, as quickly as it came, Tom's face fell and his body adopted a more submissive stance.

"Apologies, prefect, we shouldn't have argued." He said sincerely. Mary chimed in as well, apologizing. The prefect nodded before waving them off.

"I'll let off with a warning, the next time it will be points, Riddle." He responded before walking away to return to his study group. While he did, Mary quickly grabbed the books she had been reading and began to walk back to her room.

"Mary –" she heard him call out but she did not reply and continued to march away.