Though they searched and searched for weeks on end, Tom and Hermione could find no trace of anyone of the Gaunt Family ever attending Hogwarts. There were no records, no trophies… nothing... Even Headmaster Dippet didn't know anything. It was truly strange.
Hermione knew that Salazar Slytherin hadn't left the school on the greatest of terms, but was the grudge that strong that his descendants weren't allowed to attend even a thousand years later? She supposed that it was entirely possible for a family such as the Gaunts, who clung so desperately to blood purity that their family line was practically extinct.
With a sigh, she shut the book she had just finished reading and pushed it off to the side along with the pile that they had already finished.
"This is getting ridiculous,"Hermione said. "We've read through every book in the library on Slytherin, even in the Restricted Section, as well as the library at Malfoy Manor, and yet we haven't found anything of use."
"We found out that Slytherin built a secret chamber somewhere in the school," Tom pointed out.
Unfortunately, that was the one piece of information that their research had led them to.
"We don't know that for sure. It's only a legend, meaning that It might not even exist. For all we know, it's just a tall tale invented to scare the students," she argued. "Besides, even if it did exist, it doesn't help you find your family."
Tom leaned back in his seat, letting out a yawn.
They were currently situated in the Room of Requirement, which had been transformed into an exact replica of the Restricted Section, a place that had become their own special meeting place. Very few knew that the place even existed, making it a perfect retreat for them when they wanted to get away.
A cloak suddenly appeared out of nowhere, telling them the time. It was nearing curfew, meaning that they had been researching for four hours. They would have to return to their common room soon.
"Maybe we should ask Mr. Malfoy if he can arrange a meeting with Grindelwald over the summer," Tom suggested.
Hermione tensed. "Why would you want to do that?"
"He's the one who told me about the Gaunts in the first place," he reasoned. "If he knows about them, he might know where to find them as well."
She bit her lip. She didn't like the idea, though that was mostly because she didn't like Grindelwald. Though they claimed to fight on opposite sides, the truth was that Dumbledore and Grindelwald were still similar in many ways. When she thought of all the people who had placed their unwavering trust in Dumbledore and how they had met their end, it wasn't difficult to see. They both used people to achieve their goals. She wasn't sure which one of the two was worse.
"Do you really think he'll just give you the information you want? Especially if you call him away from the war he's currently fighting. He'll want you to join him, I'm sure of it."
He nodded his head. "I've done some research on him and exactly what it is he stands for, and I believe you may have misunderstood. He doesn't hate muggleborns as you think he does. He believes that all magical beings ought to be free to live without having to hide who they are, and quite frankly, I agree with him."
Hermione didn't know how to respond to that. She knew she ought to try and turn the situation around somehow, finding a way to prevent Tom from getting involved with Grindelwald, but she didn't know how to.
"I know we're not of age to actually fight in the war, but we can still make a difference. We've been oppressed by muggles for far too long. It needs to end."
His mind was clearly made up. The only problem was that hers wasn't.
She knew the outcome of the war and who would triumph in the end. Dumbledore would defeat him, breaking their blood pact and take the Elder Wand from him. Grindelwald would then spend the rest of his life imprisoned within his own fortress. That is if the timeline didn't change too drastically… With the way things were looking at the moment, she wasn't too sure about that.
What was she supposed to do? Dumbledore hadn't left her any instructions on what to do in regards to the war with Grindelwald, only that she was meant to stop the war with Voldemort… whatever it took…
She shook the mess of thoughts from her head. "I don't know what to do. I would prefer to stay out of the war, but I will consider it."
This answer seemed to please him, or at least enough to let the subject drop.
Tidying up their books, they stood and started out of the room. No sooner had the door closed behind them, then it disappeared and they found themselves standing in front of what looked like an ordinary stone wall and across from the familiar tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
"You'd best be getting off to your common room, young 'uns," said Barnabas. "It's gettin mighty late."
And so they hurried, going as fast as their legs could take them without breaking into a full out run. There were still a few students out and about, though most of them were prefects. The Gryffindor Prefects glared at them as they passed, while the Slytherin Prefects ignored them, pretending not to see them.
They had just passed the bathroom on the second floor, when Hermione came to a screeching halt. She had passed it by so many times over the years, never hearing a sound from it, that she had forgotten the sad history with it. Now, as she stood there, she could hear the all too familiar sound of sobbing coming from inside.
She cast a quick glance over at Tom. While he might suspect that the Chamber of Secrets was in fact a reality, she was pretty sure he had yet to discover it's whereabouts, let alone open it.
"I know what you're thinking, Hermione, and we don't have time for it."
By now, Tom had gotten used to the fact that she often stopped to help people. Mind you, he wasn't too pleased about it. In fact, it was something that often annoyed him.
"You don't have to wait for me if you don't want to, but I want to check and make sure she's alright."
He opened his mouth to object again, but Hermione turned and left before he could do so.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The bathroom was much like she remembered it, only considerably drier as it wasn't constantly being flooded. Upon first glance, she couldn't see anyone else in there, but then she heard a muffled sob coming from the stalls.
It didn't take long to find the one it was coming from.
First she knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked again. Still, no one answered. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she pushed the door open a crack to peak in. Seated on the floor in front of the toilet, hugging her knees to her chest, was a very much still human, Myrtle Warren.
"H-Have you come to laugh at me as well?" Myrtle asked in a small timid voice.
Hermione shook her head as she crouched down in front of her. "Why? Is someone being mean to you? Someone in your house?"
Myrtle nodded her head. "Olive Hornby," she sniffled. "She called me ugly… and she made fun of my glasses."
Hermione remembered hearing Moaning Myrtle complain about this Olive Hornby girl, and how she had chosen to return as a ghost so that she could get her revenge on her… Even haunted her brother's wedding, if she recalled correctly.
"Well, that's not very nice and not at all true either."
Myrtle looked up at her with big watery eyes.
"You're not ugly and neither are your glasses," she assured the young girl. "People like Olive Hornby are just bullies. They put people down to make themselves look better, because deep down they're just as insecure about themselves."
She knew all too well what it was like to be bullied, not because she wore glasses, but because of her hair and her former buck teeth. Everyone had something that they didn't like about themselves. It was just the way things were. You could spend your whole life trying to change yourself into something you weren't or you could choose to accept the way you were made.
"You're not like the other Slytherins… You're nice…"
And there it was… The classic stigma against Slytherins… It had never bothered her as a Gryffindor. In fact, she had kind of gone along with it at the time, but now that she was a Slytherin, she knew better. It had opened her eyes to an extent.
"Not all Slytherins are evil, just like how not all Gryffindors are good."
Myrtle nodded her head in understanding.
Rising to her full height, Hermione held out a hand for the first year Ravenclaw to take. Myrtle was hesitant at first, but accepted the hand after a few moments and let Hermione pull her up.
When they left the bathroom, Hermione was met by a surprising sight. Leaned up against the wall beside the bathroom door was Tom. She had expected him to go off without her, seeing as he wasn't the most patient man in the world, but he had stayed and waited for her after all.
Myrtle began to fidget at the sight of him and moved behind her, as if she was frightened of him.
By now, Hermione had gotten used to the fact that everyone was afraid of him. Druella and Rosaline often asked her how it was that she wasn't afraid of him herself. To be honest, she didn't see any reason to be afraid of him. She knew that he would never purposefully hurt her.
"Will you be able to find your way back to your dormitory on your own?"
Myrtle nodded her head.
"If Olive Hornby ever bothers you again, I want you to remember what I said. Can you do that?"
Myrtle nodded her head again.
And with that, she motioned the younger girl off, waiting until she was out of sight before turning back to Tom and continuing on their way.
"Thank you for waiting for me," she smiled at him. "I know it must have been annoying to you."
Tom muttered something inaudible under his breath, but she thought she saw a tinge of red on his cheeks.
They managed to make their way down to the dungeons without encountering anyone else. Hermione suspected that they might be a bit past curfew, but she found that she didn't care all that much. Being able to meet Myrtle and hopefully having her gain a bit of confidence in herself as a result was more than worth it in her mind.
However, Hermione was in for another surprise. For no sooner had they reached the entrance to their common room, then she heard a voice coming from behind her. Professor Renshaw seemed to appear out of thin air, and considering what he was, he could have well enough done just that.
"Miss Granger, may I speak to you for a moment?" he asked. "It's about the most recent assignment in class."
At first she was confused as to what he was referring to. Why would he want to talk to her about their recent assignment. They were currently learning about werewolves and he had asked them to write an essay on them, rather begrudgingly, but still.
Then she caught on. He was referring to their last conversation and the book he had recommended to her. It had been a couple of weeks since that, and with all the research she had been doing to find Tom's family, she had nearly forgotten about the discovery of her own.
"Of course, Professor," she replied.
Tom glanced between the two of them before catching on for himself and slipping off through the passageway to give them a bit of privacy.
Professor Renshaw led her away from her dormitory and back up into the castle. This time, they passed many prefects and even other teachers, who gave them strange looks as they passed, but Professor Renshaw ignored them all. Hermione assumed that he must be used to people staring at him. He certainly did stand out in a crowd with his commanding gaze and his unearthly aura.
Stopping in front of his classroom, he opened the door, allowing her to enter first before following her in and closing the door behind him. She noticed how he cast a locking charm on it this time. He clearly meant for this to be a private discussion.
"Forgive me for disturbing your evening, Miss Granger," he apologized as he took a seat at his desk, conjuring up a chair for her to sit across from him, "but, I'm sure you can understand why I chose to speak with you so late."
She imagined that night-time was the only time he could freely roam the castle as he pleased. It was kind of sad to think about. Never being able to go out and enjoy the sunlight… It was definitely something that she would miss.
"I was wondering if you had had the chance to seek out the book I recommended to you. "
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the paper that the book had given her and slid it across to him. She waited for a minute to let him get a look at it, which didn't take long with his advanced eyesight. A melancholy expression took up residence on his face as his eyes seemed to be trained on one name in particular.
Hermione could only assume who it was.
"She was your wife, wasn't she… The woman your Boggart turned into..."
He nodded his head. "Yes, that was Evelyn."
As tempted as she was, she thought it only polite that she refrain from asking him how she died. From the looks of it, she hadn't exactly had a peaceful end, and she wasn't sure if Professor Renshaw would be comfortable speaking about it.
He examined the page for a while longer before casting a doubling charm on it, keeping one copy for himself and handing the other back to her.
"Well, it would seem that you are my… descendant…" he trailed off. "It is strange. I never expected to find that my bloodline had continued."
She raised a brow at that. "What do you mean?"
He didn't reply at first as he seemed to be lost in his thoughts, staring off into blank space.
"I was… turned… when Aiden was only five years old. My sire led me to believe that he had killed both my wife and my son. I saw Evelyn's body… exactly as you saw it that day in class... He offered to show me my son's body as well… I just couldn't bring myself to see him..."
Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as he recounted the terrible fate that had befallen his family… that had befallen her family… No wonder she had never known about him. The poor man must have thought he was alone all that time.
"To find out that he lived on and had a family of his own… It brings me both relief and sorrow."
She could only imagine how he must have felt. Believing that his son was dead for over a hundred years, just to find out that his son had actually survived, and that he had missed out on so much. It was heartbreaking.
"Alas, what's done is done. You are here and I'm sure you have many questions for me."
She nodded her head. There were so many questions that had been floating around in her mind these past weeks, and even more so that had been in her mind for years. She had finally found someone who could answer them for her. Still, she didn't want to overwhelm him too much. She would start with the questions she was most curious about and leave some of the minor ones for a different time. After all, Professor Renshaw had all the time in the world.
"I couldn't help but notice that your wife's maiden name was Bluebell. Is she, by any chance, related to the inventor of the Bluebell Flame?"
"Indeed she is."
Apparently Evelyn's own father was the inventor of the spell, as their family had once been well known for their affinity with fire based magic. Hermione showed him what she could do with the Bluebell Flame, explaining how she had always possessed the same affinity with fire, which seemed to impress him.
"What about your side of the family? What were they like?
The Renshaws were an old pureblood wizarding family, though not as strict about their blood purity as some, who made their living as wood farmers, supplying wand makers with the different types of wood they needed. He told her about how he was the first in a long line of Renshaws to forsake the family business and pursue a different career, and how he had originally begun teaching at Durmstrang.
As she already knew, he had been sorted into Slytherin during his time at Hogwarts, but what she didn't know was that his wife had been sorted into Gryffindor. She listened intently as he spoke of their secret romance and all of the times they had been forced to sneak around to be together, escaping from some very close encounters with their respective houses prefects.
She was so caught up in their conversation that she barely noticed the time pass. When she finally tore her eyes away from her Professor and caught a glimpse of the clock, she was shocked to find that it was already midnight.
"I suppose I should return you to your dorm now," Professor Renshaw said as he rose from his seat. "Sometimes I forget that everyone else sleeps at night."
When he put it like that, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Being a vampire sounded fun in theory with all abilities such as advanced senses and speed, but it also came with a permanent sense of loneliness and torment, knowing that everyone around you would fade away while you alone remained.
A part of her wasn't quite ready to leave yet. There were many more things that she wanted to know about him and many more things that she wanted to share with him. However, he did have a point. As much as she might like to stay up all night and talk to him, she knew she needed her sleep. She needed to be well rested and alert for her classes tomorrow.
"Do you think it would be possible for us to do this again sometime?" she asked as she turned to leave. "If you don't mind, I think I would like to get to know you better."
He pondered it for a few moments, as if he was hesitant, before finally relenting. "If you insist, but I must warn you that there are some things about my past that I can not discuss simply for the sake of your safety, as well as my own."
There was something about the way he spoke that made her shiver involuntarily, but she wasn't about to push him for any further explanation.
"I understand."
They said nothing more to one another as he led her back out of the classroom and back down to the dungeons, but Hermione swore she saw the corners of his pale lips tug upward ever so slightly. He may not show it very well, but she got the feeling that deep down he was just as happy to have found a living family member as she was.
