Chapter 10: Slytherin's Heir
As Luca's week back at Hogwarts limped on, it became harder to remember the last time he hadn't been angry.
Despite McGonagall asking everyone to be respectful toward those that had been present during the siege, Luca's dormmates still tried to pry. It wasn't just Timothy and Thomas. Enos Harper, the fourth boy in their dorm, grew quiet and still when Timothy asked what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets. Luca just acted like he'd suddenly gone deaf and mute.
So many owls carrying the Daily Prophet had flocked into the Great Hall on Monday morning that Luca skipped breakfast. Pages ruffled all through the corridors, amplified by whispers and murmurs. Luca's gaze started to grow overly familiar with the floor when he happened to see his own name on the front page on Tuesday.
I don't know what to do, he wrote to Blaise. I feel like a zoo animal.
I'm sorry, Blaise replied. At least the holidays are coming up soon enough. Then there's not much time after that before you write your NEWTs. I wonder if McGonagall would just let you leave right after you write the last one.
It's worth asking. I'm starting to really hate this place
Luca decided just to put his head down and steam through to the end. He would draw no extra attention to himself in the meantime, and maybe people would get bored of him. He at least wasn't going it alone. Sophie wouldn't even let him give her the option of ditching him when Luca extended it.
"Shut up." She left it at that.
Astoria said the same thing, equally decisively, when Luca hedged about quitting the Quidditch team.
"The only way you're getting out of it is if you start sucking major thestral bollocks," she said. "Then I'll boot you, but only then."
Luca didn't have it in him to throw his position on purpose. Practice on Wednesday evening went well, at least. He appreciated that he almost felt normal after kicking off from the pitch. He, Mafalda, and Ambrose fell into a familiar rhythm as they tried to score on Astoria. It was an hour where Luca didn't need to think about anything.
A sense of security from that didn't last long, unfortunately. Luca headed to the library afterward, intent to make a decent dent on the newest Transfiguration assignment. He browsed for something helpful when his name being whispered snagged his attention.
Luca looked about him, but the aisle was empty. He heard it again. His shoulders slumped as he realized it was coming through the shelves as part of a conversation.
Despite his reservations, Luca leaned closer with a craned ear.
"So what do you reckon?" one of the boys said. Luca guessed by the quality of his voice, stuck in that awkward place before fully dropping, that these were either third- or fourth-years. "A relative?"
"I've been thinking about it, and it really makes sense," the other one whispered back with slight fervency. "My older brother was here when everything went down. You-Know-Who wasn't just asking after him like an afterthought. To Tim it sounded like the entire reason he was even here."
"Really?"
"And Tim said that Parasca was born only a couple months after You-Know-Who tried to do Harry Potter in. And—and—my dad says it's openly acknowledged at the Ministry that You-Know-Who hid down in Albania while he was gone for that decade. That's only a couple small countries away from Romania, where Parasca's from. Why would it occur to You-Know-Who to go all the way down there if he hadn't been there before?"
Luca rolled his eyes as one of the boys gasped.
"Never got that feeling from Professor Parasca, though," another added to the mix. "You really think she. . .you know, did it with You-Know-Who?"
The edges of Luca's vision crowded black with sudden, reeling anger. A buzzing sounded in his ears as he looped around the end of the aisle.
There were four of them standing in a tight knot. The first one to look up went immediately pale and froze. He had curly brown hair, a gap between his front teeth, and wore a blue and bronze tie. It was Timothy's younger brother in Ravenclaw, but the name escaped Luca in the moment.
All words did. The tip of Luca's tongue pressed against his teeth, jaw clenched. As he stared downward and they in turn gaped up at him, a lick of satisfaction arose from the fear that seemed to suck the air right out of this little square of space.
Timothy's brother skirted off first. The others followed in pursuit, not breaking pace until Madam Pince screeched at them about running in her library. They slowed, but continued a steady pace for the exit. Their footsteps faded away.
Sighing, Luca rubbed his forehead. What the hell was wrong with him? A week ago, he never would've wanted anyone to look at him the way those four boys just did. He supposed if they were going to talk about him, they might as well have a legitimate reason.
Luca's stomach twisted as he headed back toward his table. They already had reason to talk about him, and the truth was honestly so much worse than their suspicion of a father-son relationship. Luca hadn't even thought yet about his mum being dragged into this. For her memory to be reduced so insultingly when she'd given her life for this war was just too much.
Sophie glanced up at him when he resumed his seat at their table. She swiped some of the short hairs that escaped her ponytail away from her face. "No luck?"
"Huh? Oh—no." Luca forgot the reason he'd gone into the aisles in the first place. "I'll try again later. Could be someone else already borrowed it."
"Shoot." She gave him a sympathetic look—the only situation Luca tolerated it in lately—then snorted quietly against the back of her hand. Her eyes reduced to warm slits with her amusement. "Did you hear Madam Pince yell at those boys?"
"Yeah."
Luca left it at that, forcing a smile. Sophie seemed heartened by it, that maybe it had cheered him up a little bit. Luca still felt bad. As the evening wore on, he grew nervous. Just like after he'd spoken to Ginny (intimidated her, Luca reminded himself), he waited for one of the professors to seek him out and tell him that he ought not do that. He really didn't want to hear it from either Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall, whose piercing gazes had taken on a brand new meaning as of late.
Come Friday, Luca's habit of skipping breakfast had concreted itself enough that he laid in a little. Two of the other boys still snored when he rose. Luca regretted that he couldn't remain doing the same, but would rather face a dragon than McGonagall if he was late to or skived off Transfiguration.
Sophie already sat in the classroom when Luca arrived fifteen minutes early. She didn't look happy, and went even paler after noticing him. Luca had only just unstuck his lips to say good morning when she spoke.
"Oh Luca, I'm so sorry," she said. "It's useless to try and hide from you. You're on the cover of the Prophet for some nonsense conspiracy edition."
"Am I supposed to be surprised after the fifth time in five days?" Luca set his bag on the chair and opened it.
"There's a picture."
Luca stalled on pulling parchment out of his bag. He blinked at Sophie, anxiety rising. "What sort of picture?"
"Just of you." Sophie toyed with her hands in her lap. "Someone snapped it in the library."
Luca's heart started to pound. "Show me."
"I don't have a copy."
Of course she didn't. On principle, as far as Luca could tell, Sophie turned her nose away from all of it. Luca continued getting ready for the lesson with dwindling heart. He sighed when he sat down beside Sophie. "Is it embarrassing?"
"No," she quickly said. "It's just you doing your homework."
That didn't make Luca feel any better. Moments like that shouldn't be for the entire British wizarding population to see. Luca didn't know what made him more upset about it, that a kid in this castle snuck one or that an adult somewhere outside of here actually encouraged this behaviour.
The other students in their class started to file in. They moved mostly in groups of two, and whatever conversation they had stopped at the door. Out the corner of his eye, Luca saw them looking in his and Sophie's direction. Luca wondered bitterly if, should he look back, he'd see another stealthy camera.
Professor McGonagall was the last to arrive. Luca's back tensed in lieu of a jump when the classroom door slammed shut behind her much harder than it normally would. Luca leaned away instinctively because of her coloured cheeks and flared nostrils. She marched to the front of the classroom, her heels clicking louder than usual. The class had gone completely silent. Luca had to remind himself to breath, as if the soft sound might draw McGonagall's ire.
Her shoulders rose and fell in a slow rhythm as she busied herself briefly at her desk. Luca realized he'd stopped breathing again when she moved to stand before the lot of them.
McGonagall took one more steadying breath as her gaze travelled over the class. "We will continue where we left off Wednesday."
The class remained quiet, waiting for her to go on. When all McGonagall did was raise her eyebrows as prompt, chairs scraped against the floor. Luca fetched an apple from the front of the room, ready for another frustrating hour and a half of trying to turn it into a scorpion. His on Wednesday hadn't been the worst first effort. It retained a red hue, didn't have nearly enough legs, and its antennae resembled core stems. Other than that, it was pretty good.
Luca got into a good flow. As he held his wand toward his apple, he tried to imagine its soft inner flesh as similar to that of a scorpion's. Its skin needed to harden into a shell. Absolutely no material could be wasted, if Luca wanted a full body scuttling across his desk today.
He'd made a couple good attempts and coached Sophie through a moment of despair before he realized they were no longer alone in what had always been the Slytherin corner of their Transfiguration class. Luca feigned a moment of great concentration as McGonagall lingered a little too close not to unnerve him.
"Might I have a word, Mr Parasca?" she spoke.
Luca's stomach flipped unpleasantly as what remained of his concentration flitted away. The only other person that heard her was Sophie, whose eyes grew in size when McGonagall's stern gaze fell next on her.
"Er, could I be excused for the toilet?" she asked. When one of McGonagall's eyebrows rose, Sophie shrunk a little. "I really do have to go."
McGonagall exhaled through her nose. "Very well, Ms Roper. Be swift."
She nodded, then was gone.
Luca toyed with his wand. Had the boys told on him, then? Had Ginny?
"Have you happened to see the Daily Prophet this morning?" Professor McGonagall asked Luca.
He shook his head. "No, but Sophie told me about it."
"I have the staff on the lookout for who took that picture." McGonagall's nostrils flared anew. "There is unfortunately little to be done about the gossip that flies around this castle. That sort of behaviour, though. . .I have not yet ruled out making a personal visit to the Daily Prophet's office in attempt to dissuade further violations of your privacy. Considering half the staff there are young enough to have passed through my classroom, they might even be convinced to give me a name. You can be assured at any rate that the offender will be sufficiently punished."
"Okay."
Luca didn't really know what else to say. It made him feel better for someone of authority to be on his side in all this. He ignored a little squirm of guilt regarding the boys he'd scared, as well as Ginny.
"I—thanks," he hastily added.
McGonagall nodded. Luca expected her to move along, but she lingered as her gaze raked over everyone else. It returned to him. "It seems rather pointless to ask if you're doing all right."
"I'm just focusing on my studies," Luca replied. "I don't know there's much point hoping everyone will get bored soon."
"They do eventually move on to the next thing." McGonagall pursed her lips briefly. "I heard a whisper that the Death Eater trials will begin at the end of the month. That should be sufficiently distracting enough."
"All the Death Eaters know who I am, though." Luca lowered his voice, stomach dropping. "They're probably going to talk about me in front of the Wizengamot. Are these things public?"
"Yes, but your privacy has been taken into account."
Luca nodded, slumping a little with relief. His guard rose slightly again as McGonagall studied him. It was a look Luca had grown far too familiar with. He knew what was coming.
McGonagall glanced back to the classroom door. It remained closed, with Sophie nowhere in sight yet. "You're not like him."
"So I've heard." Luca managed to temper his grumpiness.
"You don't believe it?" She folded her arms.
Luca shrugged. He turned back to his apple, wanting to concentrate on it but failing. He pretended anyway. "We can't be total opposites, can we? Blaise told me Voldemort was disappointed to find out who his father was. So I guess we have at least that much in common."
McGonagall didn't say anything. Curiosity to how she reacted pulled Luca's gaze back. The scowl she'd entered the room with was completely gone, replaced by a tight smile and warm eyes. An unexpected ache throbbed into existence in Luca's chest. It was a look he'd received often from his mum—one he missed horribly. The ache edged up into his throat when McGonagall briefly squeezed his shoulder before moving along. That too was familiar.
Determination to turn all his focus back to his apple was for naught. Sophie returned from the toilet. Luca couldn't bring himself to look at her, even though the glisten in his eyes had to be obvious.
"Was she harsh?" Sophie asked. "Mean?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
Thankfully, Sophie didn't take those words personally these days. She went back to work, leaving Luca to do the same. He wouldn't mind asking to use the toilet too, just for a reprieve, but that would entail talking to McGonagall again. Luca didn't really want her to see the effect she'd had. He attracted enough pity anymore to stack more on top.
Luca ended up not progressing much in turning his apple into a scorpion. When he made it to lunch with Sophie after Defence, he pocketed one off the table so that he would be able to practice. That didn't go so badly. The two of them found an empty classroom isolated enough from the rest of the school population for some privacy.
Halfway through dinner, a note fluttered down the Slytherin table. It landed in front of Luca. He hadn't seen where it originated from, so he braced himself before opening it. Luca wasn't sure he was much happier to be summoned to the Headmistress' office (it still felt weird to think of McGonagall as that) for seven o'clock.
He squeezed in a little bit of homework before heading up from the library at quarter to. Was there something left unsaid from when he talked to McGonagall in Transfiguration? Maybe sometime between then and now, those boys had decided based on things written in the paper they ought to inform her of his behaviour. Maybe Ginny had raised similar concerns.
Luca's nerves piqued as he passed the gargoyle statues and approached the top of the stairs. A second voice sounded through the solid door, tapering when Luca knocked. He hadn't thought he'd done so loud enough to even be audible.
"Come in," McGonagall said.
Luca stopped halfway inside when he registered who sat in front of McGonagall's desk. Harry Potter stood up, looking slightly awkward as he smiled at Luca.
"You have a visitor," McGonagall told Luca before looking back at Potter. "I have no scheduled meetings tonight, so you shouldn't be interrupting anything when you need my fireplace again."
"Okay," Potter said. He approached Luca. "Up for a quick chat?"
"Er, sure." Luca didn't know what else to say. He was certainly curious what Potter wanted to talk to him about. He didn't seem too solemn or serious—not Auror-serious, anyway. Luca tried to see any sort of hint in his tone or body language to suggest that maybe Ginny talked to him instead of McGonagall about what had happened Sunday evening.
Potter led the way back down the office stairs. When Luca first came up, he'd been relieved this part of the castle was empty. He couldn't imagine the new gossip to erupt if someone spotted him having a 'quick chat' with Harry Potter. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. If Potter thought he was all right, or they had some sort of agenda together, then could it really be that Luca was Voldemort's son? Could Luca and Voldemort really have anything to do with each other at all? Surely if they did, Potter would rather be as far away from him as possible.
Thing is, Luca was inextricably linked to Voldemort. So what did Potter want with him?
"Right," Potter said under his breath ahead of Luca before pointing toward an empty classroom. "Here's probably good enough, yeah?"
Was it on purpose that he picked the same room Ginny had on Sunday? Luca passed Potter by inside, slipping his hands into his pockets. As far as Luca could tell, nothing had been touched in here since his last visit. The torches were just as tentative when lit, and smelled more of the dust burning off than the magic that had lit them.
"It's been a pretty shit week, hasn't it?" Potter broke the silence again.
Luca furrowed his brow. "Was it? For you, I mean. I haven't really been keeping up with the papers, but Blaise told me you'd found that man. The one that, erm. . ."
"I did." Arms folded, Potter ambled closer. "I meant more for you. It hasn't been so long since I was the tabloid whipping boy that I forgot what that feels like."
Luca chewed briefly on the inside of his lip. "Sorry, I don't actually know what you dealt with. I didn't hear much about you before Mamă and I came here. I knew who you were and all that, but I was under the impression that everyone liked you—respected you."
Potter's diaphragm tightened, pushing all the air from his lungs in a snort. His eyes briefly widening emphasized just how wrong he clearly believed Luca to be. "If you ever want to feel a little better about the tripe they write about you, track down old copies of the Prophet from autumn of '94 up until about halfway through '96. My fourth and fifth years here were hell for that. You might even get a laugh out of the earlier stuff. It's kind of funny now to think about the sorts of things Malfoy and his friends used to say about me. It wasn't at the time, though. It really sucks, feeling like a dung beetle in a jar. Everyone's looking at you, waiting for you to do something. If you sit still too long, they start poking."
"Yeah." That, Luca could certainly agree with. "It's all a bit overwhelming. I never asked for this."
"Neither did I, when it was me."
"I don't mean to imply—"
"Nah, I know." Potter waved a hand as he took a seat on one of the desks. "I'm just commiserating. You can tell me if you'd rather I didn't. I didn't really have anybody to ask questions or tell me what to do back then. I kinda flew in the dark because I was young. Dumbledore only started telling me things when he thought I could handle it. Things about what connected Voldemort and I became more clear later on too. It wasn't as much guesswork anymore. Everything to do with Magnus Norheim, Hildegard, Dagmar, and especially you are still very new things to know about Voldemort."
"I don't really know a lot about him." Luca rolled his bottom lip between his teeth again, considering Potter. As a hasty afterthought, Luca slipped his bag off his shoulder and mirrored the way Potter sat on the desk opposite. "Is it weird that I want to? Should I be worried about that? I feel like I should try to leave it alone, but I don't think I can."
"What do you want to know?"
Potter didn't even blink to ask that. What was the catch? Maybe he just understood what that burning curiosity was like, to know your roots. Or maybe Potter was so steeped in all this that it didn't even occur to him to be concerned.
"That's the thing, I don't really know what to ask," Luca eventually said. "Blaise told me Voldemort killed his own dad and grandparents."
"When he was sixteen." Potter nodded.
"Why?"
Potter's lips pushed out into a purse, his gaze darting a bit. The tentative torchlight shifted over the lenses of his glasses. "There's a lot behind that, I guess. I never got the impression that he went there intending to do it. It was more like a reaction to being disappointed about the truth of who he was and where he came from."
"Which is?" Luca held himself back from leaning forward. He didn't want to seem too keen, although he was pretty sure he already failed that from how quickly he asked. Voldemort's lineage was his lineage, after all.
"Well, for starters, you and him are the last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin." Potter paused, running his fingers absently through his hair. "As far as Voldemort goes, that might actually depend on how we define what it means to be alive. His soul is still kicking around, but he's not really much more than a parasite right now. The body he was born with, the one that looked like you, is long gone. Nobody really knows what happened to it after he tried to off me. It was just gone. It wasn't until later on we found out his soul had been ejected from it."
"But you don't know about the body," Luca repeated.
Potter shook his head. "So I guess there wasn't really ever a time you were alive—outside a womb anyway—that both of you were walking around. It's not exactly biology anymore that connects you, just the history that brought you here in the first place."
That reminded Luca of something Blaise had said. "Do you think it's possible that we can have the same biology but different souls? Obviously we do in the literal sense, but is that where who we are comes from?"
"It's pretty documented what parts of us belong to the soul," Potter replied. "Even though Voldemort lost his body back in '81, he's still undeniably himself. He's as manipulative and intelligent as ever. He changed tactics this time around to suit his needs, but that's it."
That made Luca feel a bit better about his situation. His shoulders didn't feel so heavy, at least. "So all we really share then is. . .well, we have the same blood relatives, right? Or had. You said we're all that's left. Who all was that? I'm a Slytherin? I mean, more than just this?"
Potter smiled when Luca gestured at his green and silver tie. "You're a descendant, yeah. He lived a thousand years ago, so take that as you will. The Slytherin name has long died out. Voldemort's maternal family that connected you were the Gaunts."
"What were they like?"
Luca grew nervous when the crinkled nature of Potter's eyes straightened back out. "Not pleasant, to be honest. They had a lot in common with the Black family on how they tried to preserve their blood purity. They were to a point that they bred into themselves. The best way to describe the way they lived was like savages. Lots of short tempers. Dumbledore showed me a memory from a Ministry worker that encountered the last three alive. They were all unstable in their own way. The men—your great-uncle and great-grandfather—were prone to violence. Your grandmother had more. . .obsessive tendencies."
"What do you mean?" Luca furrowed his brow.
"She was madly in love with your grandfather, Tom Riddle Senior. He was a Muggle that lived in the village near her home. Merope—that's your grandmother—dosed him with a love potion and tricked him into falling in love with her. They eventually married, and then Merope became pregnant with Voldemort. After that, she had a change of heart about tricking Tom. She probably thought that by then he had to love her enough to stick around. He left, though. He left Merope and Voldemort in London and went back home."
Luca's stomach sunk. "Oh. So she basically raped him. I mean, she did, and then some."
Potter nodded, lips pushed off to the side. The desk he sat on groaned slightly when he shifted. "Being conceived through use of a love potion may have inhibited his ability to experience true love. Keep this in mind, though. When Dumbledore and I talked about it all, we were careful about saying being a child of rape was a specific reason why Voldemort eventually became who he is. That's not the case for everyone in that situation."
"No," Luca quickly agreed. "I get what you're saying. The part that makes it so easy for Voldemort to kill people, it also comes from. . .our family was inbred? I am?"
"I can't really spare your feelings on that. Sorry." Potter actually did look it, although that didn't stem the crawling feeling all over Luca's skin. "For what it's worth, I don't really think you show any signs of that. You never really took me as someone with a temper. Were you ever sickly?"
Luca shook his head. "I get angry, especially lately. But I don't really think I have a temper. I was an easy kid, according to my mum and grandparents. My grandparents always kept me so busy that I didn't ever have much chance to get worked up. Any extra energy I had was always run off. Then when I started at Durmstrang, I went straight into Quidditch. I always made sure I was on top of my schoolwork."
"You definitely have discipline that they lacked. I never knew until recently that you were put a year ahead of where you should've been when you transferred to Hogwarts."
Some heat came up into Luca's cheeks as he tried to dismiss any accidentally flattery with a shrug. "Dumbledore suggested I try the OWL exams after he'd talked to Volkov."
"I think you're probably more like the Riddle side of the family than the Gaunts," Potter said. "You don't look at all like the Gaunts, although obviously they're where you get your magic from. It's also why you're a Parselmouth."
Luca had to suppress the automatic urge to deny that he was one. "I always wondered where that came from."
"We both happened to get it from Voldemort." Potter hooked his ankles together as they gently swung forward and back. "I got it when he gave me my scar. We have a magical connection. Had. Well, some things have faded. I had a certain protection from him until I was of-age through my mum's sacrifice, but he mostly got around that when he came back in '95. He used to be able to put things into my mind from a distance. He closed that off. Now I think about why, I wonder if he didn't want to take the risk that connection might give me insight toward Hildegard and Magnus. I'd see things about the prophecy, but that was it. Maybe just because it had to do with me.
"Anyway—sorry, things are still coming together." Potter cast him a quick smile. "I won't bore you with my own details. I just wanted to answer any questions you might have."
"You were saying that Tom left Merope and Voldemort in London?"
"Right," Potter replied. "Voldemort was born at a Muggle orphanage there. Merope died during the birth. The orphanage tracked Tom down, but he wasn't interested in taking Voldemort. So Voldemort grew up at the orphanage. He was a dark child, according to Dumbledore. Scared the other kids, even hung one's pet rabbit from the rafters. Things like that. Dumbledore was the one who told him he was a wizard. I think in a way Voldemort was disappointed by coming into the magical world. When he was a wizard among Muggles, he was different. He had power that others didn't. Coming to Hogwarts, he wasn't special at all.
"He was obsessed with his father, though. He thought he was a wizard. Voldemort never found any sign of a Riddle at Hogwarts, but he found the Gaunts through his middle name since he was named after Merope's father. Once he found the Gaunts, he found the Riddles. I never heard about what was said before he killed them, but it had to be something. I'd bet they rejected him again. He killed them then, and framed Morfin Gaunt by modifying his memory."
"That was his uncle?"
Potter nodded.
Luca's chin dipped while he thought. "So there're no Gaunts left. Are there Riddles?"
"I don't think so. Their house has sat abandoned ever since, except for when Voldemort camped out there before returning in '95."
"They probably wouldn't acknowledge me anyway, if there were any," Luca said. "I don't think that really bothers me. I don't feel much of a connection to any of them at all. That's not my life. It was Voldemort's. I'm just. . .what, like a second chance for him? Sort of?"
"As far as his genetics go, sure." Potter shrugged. "Nothing's stopping you from thinking that way. And really, Tom Riddle—before he was Voldemort—could've done anything. He was like you. Intelligent, charismatic, handsome, all that. He just lacked the things that set you apart. For lack of a better term, he didn't have much of a soul."
Luca studied Potter long enough for his gaze to start darting in discomfort. "I think you're the first one not to tell me I'm not like him."
"He had his good attributes. It's just a shame how he used them," Potter replied. "I went through all this when I learned I was a Parselmouth. Back when the Chamber opened and that basilisk was roaming around, everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin. It was by looking into it that I found out the truth. Maybe I don't like having a connection to Voldemort, but that can't be helped. The best you can do is arm yourself with knowledge. That's what Dumbledore did for me, and it got me here. Dagmar went through something similar. It's weird how all three of us started these journeys by trying to find out why we can talk to snakes."
"Yeah."
The room fell quiet enough for the torches' flickering flames to be nearly audible. A lot of information circulated in Luca's mind, and he thought he felt a lot better than he had all week. Luca got the impression that most people would rather he just try to forget about this out of fear he might one day take up Voldemort's mantle and give them yet another war. Potter seemed to think it better he explore this, or he at least trusted him to. Finally, there was somebody that didn't walk on eggshells around Luca for something he couldn't help.
"Anything else you want to know?" Potter asked, then continued when Luca hummed. "This won't be the only chance you have to ask, just so you're aware. You can always owl me anytime. Without any Death Eaters roaming about and the Ministry at both our backs, the post is suddenly a lot more secure. If we make regular enough correspondence, it would be worth investing in a pair of messengers."
"I'd go half-in with you if it comes to that."
Potter nodded. "Okay."
"I guess I have another question," Luca said before Potter could start angling toward ending this conversation. "For now, with everyone talking about me and the papers writing about me. . .how did you deal with that when it was you?"
"Really good friends, for one." Potter chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't have the luxury of hiding anything about the situations I was in. If yours right now was more like mine, everyone would already know how you and Voldemort were connected. They would just be speculating on what that meant, and when you were going to go dark or evil. Or they'd just wonder if you're mad, like they did me after Voldemort came back. Hermione always told me just to ignore it, which is a great idea in principle. It is definitely not that easy."
"No," Luca quickly agreed. "Bloody near impossible."
"Mhm. I'll say on good authority that you might very well implode if you try to keep it all to yourself. You talk to Blaise about it?"
"As much as I can." Luca sighed. "It's hard when he's not here. This is my all day, everyday. I write to him and all that, but I can't really put into words how absolutely pervasive this is. That's not to say he hasn't been good about it and I don't feel better after talking to him. I do. I just wish he was here."
"McGonagall said you're pretty close to a girl named Sophie," Potter replied. "What about her?"
"I haven't told her yet." Luca shifted on the desk. "I know I probably should. She knows what I'm dealing with, and I trust her."
"I won't tell you to do it, but I will say that it's really nice to have someone say 'yeah, that's bollocks' and actually know what they're saying it in reference to."
A genuine smile crept up on Luca, but another question more rooted in seriousness eclipsed it. "People are starting to drag my mum into it. I overheard some kids talking in the library a couple days ago. I guess because my mum adopted me by myself and nobody really knows I was adopted, the assumption is that my mum had it on with Voldemort."
Potter snorted strongly. "Yeah, that's bollocks."
Luca laughed, although that too was short-lived. "I really wish they would leave my mum out of it. I guess I get why they think she was involved like this. If they think I'm Voldemort's son and I was raised by a single mum, it's a bit simpler of an explanation than what really happened."
"Still sucks, though. Your mum doesn't deserve that."
"It made me think. . ." Luca hesitated, nervous. "It's an incentive to tell the truth. My mum wasn't perfect. She lied about having me herself so that we'd be seen as biological relatives back home. That's really not a big deal, in comparison."
"Lying to the government?" Potter's voice grew dry with a touch of sarcasm. "I can't imagine the type of person that could keep their conscience after doing such a thing."
Luca appreciated the laugh. "It's nothing, right? So if I was honest that I was adopted, it would get her name out of all this. The thing is, I don't think I could prove I was. There's no paper trail. It was an open secret in my mum's old Auror office, so I guess maybe her old subordinates could say that yeah, I just showed up there in April of 1983. But then that just brings up more questions. Like who's my bio-mum, then? How did Voldemort know I was here? I don't know if it's really my place to drag Dagmar and Hildegard into this. Dagmar's already getting enough as it is. Everyone knows she's alive and still being possessed by him. She's just lucky in the sense she doesn't have to be stared at all day. I wish I could hide, but I don't envy her at all."
"Voldemort's still sulking or whatever he's doing, so she's in a good place at the moment. You don't have to worry about her. You shouldn't anyway. Voldemort is our problem to deal with."
"Of course I'll worry." Luca shrugged. "I feel like it's my fault this even happened to her. She shouldn't be the one that's stuck with him. She only is because I'm not."
"She's stuck like that because I hit Voldemort with a Killing Curse back in December," Potter said. "If you want to go further back than that, it's Hildegard's fault for putting a fragment of Voldemort's soul in Dagmar. Further than that, Voldemort was the one that tricked Hildegard into thinking it was a good idea."
"How did they even meet?"
"They met in the mid-seventies." Potter started idly swinging his feet again. "Hildegard had been attacked by a death golem. We've seen it, actually. You remember that black armour Voldemort was wearing in the Chamber of Secrets?"
The hair on the back of Luca's neck stood up as the unwelcome stench of death visited him again.
"That." Potter nodded. "It was hellbent on killing Hildegard. She still doesn't know why, but back then she tried to find out who sent it. She kept an eye out in case another one came. When she saw Voldemort, she realized he had some sort of following and broad knowledge of magic. She asked him. He didn't know anything, but they kept in touch. By the eighties, she'd fallen for him and all that. She offered him the same kind of immortality she had through Dagmar. He agreed, but he was hesitant about her handling his soul. As a show of good faith, Hildegard made herself mortal by removing her soul fragment from Dagmar and replacing it with Voldemort's. When you were born, that was going to be reversed. Hildegard was seven months pregnant with you when Voldemort disappeared, so that never had a chance to happen."
"You trust what she says?"
"Hildegard's gone on the record with it all through Veritaserum and memory collection." Potter paused. "If you're ever interested in accessing any of that, I can ask on your behalf. The first year of your life was a happy one, according to Hildegard. I haven't seen the memories yet, but it doesn't seem like something she could lie about. Dagmar would tell you that up until Voldemort returned, Hildegard was a good mum. I guess that depends on where you're at with them."
"I haven't really thought about it." Luca's hands idly knotted in his lap. "There's so much else going on with Voldemort and everyone at school, and then school itself. I don't feel anything bad about Dagmar. I hope she gets Voldemort out of her, and then I'd like to see what's going on with us. She's not angry with me, is she?"
"No," Potter was quick to answer. "She's in the same boat as you on that, I think. She's worried you're scared of her because of Voldemort."
"I'm scared of him, not her," Luca clarified. "I don't know what to think about Hildegard. I don't think there could've been a worse way to meet her, and I can't say I ever heard anything good about her from Dagmar back before she was gone. I also get a little defensive against Hildegard in a way because I don't get to have a relationship with Mamă anymore. I feel like if I had a relationship with my bio-mum that I'd be turning my back on that. My grandparents don't even know any of this yet, and they're so far away."
"I get that," Potter said. "If it makes you feel any better, whatever happens between you and Hildegard is up to you. Obviously she'd love to know you and all that, but she's known since Voldemort came back that getting rid of him would mean a close encounter with you like we all just had. She was aware how much baggage she would bring into your life, and she had no expectation that you'd be interested in her after that. Last time I talked to her, she was just happy to get some closure about you growing up well."
"That's kind of a relief," Luca replied with a short sigh. "I didn't need that kind of pressure on top of everything else right now. I'm going to see my grandparents on the Easter holiday. I'd like to know what they think."
"You'll always have the name they gave you, the language you spoke, and the culture you grew up with, if that's any consolation." Potter shrugged. "Nobody can ever take that away from you. No matter where you take things with Hildegard or Dagmar, you were still raised by the Parascas in Romania. Your mum was your mum. If it makes you feel any better, you were actually born in that neighbourhood of the world. Hildegard used to migrate with the seasons back then. You were born on the winter solstice, so she would've been in the Greek Isles at the time."
"Oh." Luca blinked, spine straightening. "Cool."
"That island on the lake was Hildegard's home." Potter pointed his thumb toward the window. "I don't know if you've realized it yet or if anyone told you, but you were born on there."
Just as quickly as Luca's stomach had risen, it took another weird flop. "No, nobody told me. That turtle thing? I was born on there?"
"The hafgufa, yeah."
It was a very strange thought that Luca's birthplace actually sat less than a quarter-mile away from him. He couldn't really comprehend it. Like McGonagall had advised, he'd just ignored the lake's new addition.
"Can I go there?" Luca asked. "McGonagall told everyone not to, but I must be able to have some sort of exception, right? What are the creatures that are on it? Would they actually be dangerous for me?"
"Probably not. They would know who you are. Because you're a Parselmouth, you'll be able to talk to them. The nøkk doesn't speak, but the huldra does. Her name is Lys. She might have even had a hand in raising you. Hildegard said that she did with Dagmar, so it's not much a stretch of the imagination that it happened for you too. Two kids under three would've been a handful."
"I wonder if McGonagall would let me." Luca chewed on his bottom lip. "I could just fly over, and I'd make sure nobody else saw me if she's worried the other students might think I was getting special treatment."
"I think McGonagall would realize after we've had this conversation that it's not something she can stop you from doing. I have something that would help. It's actually the main reason I came up here."
Luca sat up straighter out of curiosity as Potter slid off his desk. He reached into his coat and brought out an inky, silvery cloak.
"I wondered if you'd be interested in borrowing this," Potter said. "The only thing I'd ask is that you be very careful with it. It's a family heirloom that I got from my dad. I'd want it back at the end of the school year."
"What is it?" Luca furrowed his brow with a tilt of the head. He inhaled sharply, excited, when Potter threw it around himself. The only thing left visible was his floating head. "Oh, cool!"
"Yeah, it's pretty cool." Potter grinned and shrugged it back off. "I've had it since I was in my first year here. Whenever things got for me like how they are for you right now, it came in handy. Feel like you wanna disappear for a while, or just walk through the hallways without being eyeballed? Well, now you can."
"You're sure?" Luca hesitated to take it, merely touching the material when Potter held it out to him. "Of course I'd give it back and all that. And yeah, I'd take care of it. But you're sure?"
"I don't need it right now," Potter replied. "I trust you with it, and McGonagall knows I'm offering it to you. I don't think she was thrilled to have this back in the castle, but she understands it has its uses."
The invisibility cloak's material felt like cool air in Luca's hands. As he toyed with it, a warm heaviness came to his chest. "Thank you."
"No problem."
Luca stepped forward and pulled Potter into a tight hug. Potter froze, slightly stiff, but Luca imagined his grip squeezing the tension out like tenderized meat. Whether that or Potter's surprise just melted, he pat Luca on the shoulder before Luca pulled away.
"Thank you," Luca repeated. "For this—" he indicated the cloak, "—and for talking to me. For just. . .treating me like a human being, and not like I'm a delayed dungbomb waiting to go off."
"For sure." Potter cleared his throat. "It shouldn't be such a rare thing, but it's how these things go. It's like everyone forgets how to talk to you when you're at the centre of something like this."
Luca sighed. "It's frustrating. I'd feel a lot better if it wasn't just me here. I miss Blaise and Draco and all them more than ever, right now."
They parted ways then, Luca heading down the stairs and Potter back to McGonagall's office. Luca hesitated when he reached the sixth floor. With a surreptitious look around that he was indeed still alone, he dipped into the nearest toilet. He wanted to give the cloak a try. After pulling it on in front of the mirror and making sure that no parts of him would offer a glimpse to anyone he passed, he headed back off for the library.
It came up on half-eight when Luca reached the first floor. Ducking into another toilet to remove the cloak was more challenging down here than in the upper parts of the castle. He still managed, tucking it back into his bag before leaving the stall.
Sophie hadn't moved from where he left her in the library. She looked up when Luca didn't take his seat. "All right?"
Luca nodded, fingering the strap of his bag. "Thoughts on a walk around the lake?"