A/N: Hey!

Apologies for the long wait, I hope this chapter was worth it :)

J.F.C: As the author, your input is incredibly important to me, so I will never ignore you :) I hope you like this chapter, though there will be some weaknesses, but I hope you'll be able to notice which one is slowly starting to become a natural talent (hint: it is a subject, and is shown when she has difficulty in Transfigurations :) I was intending to bring this up later on, but I decided that you were right since her weakness may be the reason why the amount of people who read and do not review are slowly starting to increase...

Anyway, your input, as always, helped a lot and is appreciated :)

Looking forward to your next comment,

~ Annika

Followers:

CelesteUzumaki

Chuu112

Cytryne

Golnara

J.F.C

Nacanaca

Nightstalker1988

Red-eyed Snow Leopard

Takahashi Amaya

aspygirlredo

clorainexe66

cup'o'tea

leafstone

patches7

Favourites:

Chuu112

Cytryne

Dame-Of-The-Living-Dead

DannyRaven Lover

J.F.C

Nacanaca

Nymphadora Jackson

aspygirlredo

clorainexe66

cup'o'tea

leafstone

I woke up, exhausted beyond belief. I heard a distinct rustle beside me and felt a hand that slid into my own.

" Mmm?"

" It's okay, Katherine."

" Tom?" I asked. The hand tensed up.

" Lily."

" Oh." My eyes flew open and I sat up. Just as the girl had said, it was her that sat at my bedside and not my brother. I tried to ignore that stinging feeling of hurt. I briefly considered asking her where he was, but shook my head.

That would be rude.

" Why are you here?" I asked. She bit her lip and lowered her head.

" It's just..." A tear escaped her eye.

" Lily, it's okay." As if though it was magic (which was ironic considering the fact that I was a witch), Lily burst out crying. She leaned into my shoulder and I awkwardly rubbed her back.

Eugh. My shoulder's wet.

" Um... It's okay. You're okay. We're all okay. We're all good." I stammered. " God, I'm horrid at this..."

" You could have died! And the last thing I did was run from you..."

Ah. It was that.

" Don't be stupid, Lily. I'm not offended." She started shaking harder, as if though she was just crying more.

What?

' Don't be stupid...'

Oops.

" No, wait, I didn't mean it-" She pulled away from our embrace, face red. It took me a while to recognise and process that she wasn't crying harder, but was laughing.

" You minx." I playfully jibed at her. She calmed.

" Your brother confronted the Hufflepuff."

" Oh?"

" He's being kept behind by Dumbledore. He believes that it was a racist attack, but I know it isn't... I mean, you and your brother don't think we're Mudbloods, do you?" I bit my lip. I hated being the hypocrite. I shouldn't have called that Hufflepuff a Mudblood. I didn't even know what had possessed me at the time. " Do you?" She asked again, her voice thin. I shook my head. She sighed in relief. " Thank you. You're the nicest Slytherin I know of."

" You're welcome." I answered, quietly guilty of double crossing the girl.

" I need entry. My sister was hurt yesterday."

Tom.

" So you must be Tom Riddle. Katherine's twin brother, I presume?" Madam Rosemary asked.

" You have presumed correctly." Tom answered. There was a second of silence when the double doors were opened. Tom stood in the doorway, his expression hard. The second they closed behind him, however, he looked so utterly lost that I couldn't help but compare him to the Tom Riddle of our youth.

The four year old boy that sought comfort from an unforgiving matron.

The four year old boy who hadn't yet been tainted by the world.

The four year old boy who didn't yet have a proper bond with his sister and instead preferred to play with other boys whilst his sister was pushed from girl group to girl group; always the third wheel in their friendship circles because she didn't want to have ribbons in her hair and play with dolls or discuss boys with teenagers.

The four year old boy who was suddenly pushed away from a friendship that was once warm and inviting but had grown cold, stale and harsh because he had a gift that other children couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The same four year old boy who was pushed away with his sister because of their first ever display of magic and was forced to create a bond stronger than any other with her.

A bond that made him feel overprotective of her because of their past.

Even when in another environment altogether.

Tom's eyes finally locked with mine. The second our eyes met, he ran into the room before literally throwing his body onto mine. I felt something wet fall on my right shoulder and a small sniffle. I held him tighter.

" I thought- I thought you were-"

" Shh. Don't speak." I whispered. He clung onto my body as if though I were his lifeline.

" I won't let go of you again. Ever." I felt an involuntary shiver travel down my back at those words. " I promise." I said nothing, holding him whilst he cried.

I won't let you go either, Tom. I thought. But you house another soul within you.

And that's what scares me.

•••

We'd returned to classes with that lesson that the fifth year had taught me fresh in our minds. As much as I hated to admit it, it was partially my fault that I was attacked in the first place. I'd taunted her and the name I'd given her was uncalled for. I couldn't even bring myself to say it. I sighed.

" Miss Riddle, have you had a late night last night or am I too boring for you to pay attention to?" Dumbledore asked sharply. My head shot up.

" No, sir!" I answered. He looked at me suspiciously before he dragged his attention back onto the self-writing chalk on the black board.

" With enough practise, you should all be able to transfigure a ceramic bowl into a kettle whilst casting the heating charm, which I believe Professor Flitwick has already taught you." He tapped his lion- adorned hourglass. " Begin."

Within the midst of indefinite amounts of incantations, Tom had done this perfectly whilst I failed. I did not wish to allow Dumbledore to see my mistakes, but I had no other option. The only thing I was able to cast was the heating charm.

" When did I get so bad at Transfigurations?" I whispered. Tom did not answer. I could remember trying again and again at levitating the match stick whilst turning it into a needle, but I'd succeeded eventually. I couldn't do it again afterwards, but surely that must have been because I wasn't in the classroom- and therefore not in the correct mindset...

" Miss Riddle, it seems I clearly wasn't entertaining enough for you." Dumbledore said, almost absentmindedly. I swallowed, but didn't meet his eyes, stubbornly keeping my optics on the bowl in front of me. Dumbledore walked around the edge of my table and leaned down until his periwinkle eyes were level with mine. I met his gaze without a flicker of emotion. " Do you require me to talk it through for you?" A flush of violent red came to my cheeks. The class laughed, presumably because they were witnessing a Slytherin blush.

" No, sir." I answered. Tom cut in.

" I'll be able to teach her, sir." He said, his voice honeyed. Dumbledore didn't fall for it.

" I do not require any of your assistance, Tom Riddle." He hissed, vexation clear on his wrinkled face.

How I wished to pull his auburn beard for that.

" Right, a circle then a lightning bolt. The circle is to transfigure the ceramic bowl and the lightning bolt for the heating. Say the incantation with me." He instructed, his own wand in front of him to demonstrate what he was saying.

I tried. But failed. Once again, I'd only succeeded in the heating charm and nothing else.

Dumbledore hummed.

" It seems that you lack the proper finesse for Transfigurations, Katherine Merope Riddle. Which is peculiar, since I specifically remember you being thirteenth to complete the matchstick-needle transfiguration." He gave a meaningful look at Tom, who stared stonily back at him.

" What are you insinuating, sir?" He asked. Dumbledore was equally as impassive.

" I'm insinuating that you cast the transfiguration for your sister once you saw her failing." He answered. Tom pursed his lips. I started to feel worried.

" Tom?-"

" I don't give a damn." Tom hissed, his voice almost lapsing into Parceltongue. I stared at his eyes.

Blood red.

He swept his arm across his desk and all of his books came flying off the table. The class gasped. He stormed out.

" Tom!" I shouted, standing up. He slammed the classroom door shut. The windows shattered and re-fixed themselves. I went after him, but Dumbledore's voice stopped me.

" Sit back down, Miss Riddle." He ordered. I span around.

" No."

By the name of the King, I am going to regret this...

I ran out of the classroom, slamming the door shut after myself. I knew Dumbledore had opened it again to call after us in a fit of rage.

My suspicions were proven correct.

" Mr and Miss Riddle, if you do not return to the classroom-"

" No!" I shouted again, running faster and harder than I'd ever done in my life.

Dumbledore isn't following me.

I managed to glimpse a flurry of black.

" Tom!"

I ran towards it, breathing heavily.

" Tom!" I turned the corner, only to find my brother on the floor, his hair greasy and his skin taut against his face. " Oh God..."

A Boggart...

" Please." He whispered, his right hand outstretched. His whole body was emaciated and he was dressed in tatters, the clothes bearing so many patches that it was impossible to tell whether it was mostly clothing or repair. Despite my knowing that it was a Boggart, I let out a sob and outstretched my right hand also.

" Tom." I was staring at my very nightmare, his eyes so filled with pain that I wished I could end it for him. " Tom." I repeated, fear in my voice.

" Come closer... Please... If you ever loved me..." He rasped. Trembling, I took a hesitant step forward. " Closer!" He urged me. " Embrace me. Allow me to feel your warmth. Your life." That snapped me out of the trance, but by that time, the Boggart was already too close. It grabbed my arm and the thing twisted and turned, blackened and smoked until it was another form altogether. I stared in morbid, terrified fascination at the being.

A tall man with a hairless head stared mockingly down at me, his ruby red eyes taunting me with the fact that I'd fallen for a trap- and I knew it. His serpentine features were smooth, but struck instinctual fear inside of me, every line- every crevice of his face was designed to make one quiver in utter terror once you gazed upon his hellish face. His black robes billowed ominously about his rail-thin body, further adding to the fear that I felt. I hadn't seen the man before, but I knew- just knew- who he was by his eye colour.

This was Lord Voldemort's true form.

" S-stay away from me." I stammered, my wand at hand but useless at that stage, as I was too scared to recall the spell that banished the Boggart.

" Or what?" He asked, his voice holding that trademark hissing. I noticed- with a sense of both disgust and fright- that his tongue was forked. I shivered.

" I- I-"

Come on, what did Professor Merrythought say in her speech about Defence Against the Dark Arts?...

" You cannot say anything," He taunted. " This castle is so big that no one will hear you scream."

" Lies!" I shouted. " You're lying! My brother will find me- and once he does you will be nothing but dust." I knew that chance was slim, though. He took a step forward and I scrambled away. That made him chuckle coldly, his laughter humourless.

" Do you believe that? Do you truly believe that he'll be here to save you- when you can't even protect yourself?"

" I- I can." I whispered, though my voice was wispy; weak. He hummed, as if though he was bored of staring at me and wanted to investigate further under a microscope. That very thought made me feel uncomfortable.

" Prove it." He said, silkily.

" Riddikulus." Someone said smoothly behind me. I span around. Tom was standing behind me as if though he were there all along, pocketing his long yew wand. He looked deeply troubled once I turned around and put his hands on my shoulders. " Are you alright, Kathy?" He asked. I nodded mutely. He could tell I wasn't, though. He sighed and picked me up bridal style. I clung to his school robes like it was a lifeline.

" Don't let go of me, Tom." I whispered. He smiled sadly.

" I never will."

•••

The teachers were in a huff the next day. Apparently Professor Merrythought had accidentally forgotten to put her Boggart away after she'd taught her third years and was waiting for someone to stumble upon the rogue predator. All of the other professors shook their heads at her and sighed before continuing with their lunch, which we found amusing since she looked as if though they'd given her a slap on the wrist before starting to ignore her. Tom, ever the brightest, had the foresight to box the Boggart up before giving it into Professor Merrythought. She wasn't a bad professor, per se, she was simply extremely forgetful. I wondered if Longbottom lived up to her standards...

Following on from giving the Boggart in, Professor Merrythought had remarked that she liked Tom for being a mixture of all houses. Tom, perplexed, asked her to elaborate.

" What I mean, Tom, is that you have the friendliness and hardworking in class of a Hufflepuff, the intelligence and thirst for knowledge of a Ravenclaw, the chivalrous of a Gryffindor and the neatness and cunning of a Slytherin. These are the best things a teacher could possibly find in a student such as yourself. You're going to go far, son," Merrythought looked thoughtful as she stuffed tobacco again down her cigar pipe. " Very far."

There are smokers in the Wizarding World? No matter how much they romanticize smoking in the Muggle world, making it look fashionable, inhaling all of that smoke can't be good for you- surely the Wizards had found that out by now. If inhaling smoke from a fire is bad for you, then why wouldn't inhaling smoke from a cigar be just as bad?

" Thank you, Professor." Tom said, quietly. I could see the gleam of a new idea in his eyes, though. Merrythought smiled lazily.

" My pleasure, my boy. Now run along. Wouldn't want me to get-" She started coughing all of a sudden. A disgusted grimace flashed on Tom's face before he covered it up with a polite smile. " Caught, now, do we?" Her voice was hazy.

" Take care of yourself, professor." Tom and I said simultaneously. Merrythought nodded, tapping her pipe against her knee, scattering ash on the floor.

" I will, children."

•••

" This is perfect, Katherine." Tom said, his voice hurried to match his fast pacing. I furrowed my eyebrows.

" Pardon?"

" What Merrythought said to us a quarter hour ago. She'd basically given us the formula for the perfect student." He said, his voice excited. " If we play our cards right then we can have the teachers wrapped around our little fingers." I lifted an eyebrow. I didn't see the virtues in being a teacher's pet.

" Dumbledore is too far gone, Tom." I pointed out.

" I know that. He'd probably have seen right through it, that old nutter." Tom murmured. He raised his voice. " But what we do need to do is apply ourselves the same way that we do to Professor Merrythought. We already have Slughorn, Merrythought and Dippet, but we need Professor Borealis for Astronomy, Professor Babbling for Ancient Runes, Professor Flitwick for Charms, Professor Radius for Arithmancy- which we're definitely choosing for our NEWTS, by the way, it's a lot like Muggle arithmetic except with runes- and perhaps Professors Finnegan of Care of Magical Creatures, Lorcan of Divination, Smith of Muggle studies and Goodsole of Herbology."

" You've listed everybody but Dumbledore and Binns." I noted. Tom wrinkled his nose.

" Binns would only give us lectures on Goblin Wars. I certainly stay up and take notes, but I also go to the library to learn some real history. I find the story of Merlin and his twin sister Morgana to be the most interesting." Tom mused. I leaned in, interested.

" What happened?" I asked. He smiled and went to his bag, retracting an old and weathered tome titled 'The Magical History Of Wizarding Britain- 1860 edition." I gave a low whistle at its publishing date. " Wools Orphanage opened in 1863 for orphans who sought refuge from the factories and workhouses." Tom nodded.

" Yes. It's a shame that the recent matrons are so unforgiving, nowadays." He sighed. I nudged him before he'd go down memory lane. He shook his head and opened the book, flipping through pages. It wasn't until we found a bookmark that we stopped. " Here we are. 'Merlin and Morgana- Siblings Of Light And Dark'.

" Merlin and Morgana were twins- raised during the Wizarding Revolution when Muggles started to burn Witches for their magic and so called 'devilry'." My brother paused at the word.

" Was it you that committed this act of devilry?"

" Carry on." I said, quietly. He nodded.

" Not all Witches were as fortunate at magic as Wendelin the Weird. Not all of them were well educated enough to protect themselves, for the curricula in Hogwarts had only just started and only the previous generation had attended. As of such, many prominent wizarding families were destroyed; including the famous Labrynth bloodline which consisted only of witches and no wizards (for more on the Labrynths, refer to page 108). Morgana was amongst those most fortunate because she'd escaped. She'd been caught practising magic at the age of seven and was beaten- and presumably raped- before being taken to be burnt at the stake. It is unsure of whether she'd escaped or cast a charm similar to Wendelin as the eye witness accounts do not match with one another, but an account from Titan the Trustworthy was the one best used. According to his report, Morgana had been tied up at the stake but the second a Muggle approached her with a match she'd thrown her head back and shouted what sounded like curses and hexes to them, but was in fact incantations of a Water Elemental. The flame was put out by a large sphere of water and she'd managed to struggle out of the ropes. This evidence coincides with many witnesses from magical that had watched Morgana use her peculiar magic with water as they stated that her feats 'weren't accomplishable even with our magic'.

" As years passed, Morgana had gained bitter hatred toward the Muggles whilst her brother grew up in their defence. Wounded by her brother's decision, Morgana threatened to kill herself if he didn't join her. Merlin stood calm and said that he would join her over his dead body. Morgana had been reported to have been crying as if though in terrible pain later that day and wasn't seen or heard from again. Some believe that she'd kept her word and killed herself whereas others believe that she was the notorious Nimue of the Lake (refer to page 200 for more information about the Lady of the Lake and theories about this mystery), the first ever Dark Lady. Nimue was known to have had a daughter who she named Cercei Gregorovitch. All accounts of the two were that they were extremely close, even for a mother and a four year old child. The reason why many believe that Nimue is, in fact, Morgana is because she'd said that she'd turned to the dark because her brother betrayed her, which runs in parallel with what happened to Morgana. Moreover, Nimue was around the same age as Morgana- a mere sixteen when she had done her first raid- and had her daughter at the age of fourteen, as was custom at the time. Merlin was prophesized to kill her, and was trained rigorously by Godric Gryffindor despite being a prominent member of Slytherin house. He'd gone to war with Nimue only three years later, thus ending her reign of terror. Nimue was twenty four when she'd died, leaving her seven year old daughter motherless. Merlin had sent his unknown niece to her father, Gregorovitch the wand maker, who'd died a year later. Cercei was treated as a literal Cinderella by her step mother and four step sisters and two half brothers. She was fourteen when she'd helped a unicorn who was dying, having been shot with a bow and arrow by a Muggle. The unicorn died anyway, but not without giving her a wish. Cercei used that one wish as a ticket to freedom, but encountered the Prince of Wizarding England, Hadrian Slytherin, and fell in love with him. She'd gotten married with him, but he'd been killed by a Muggle a mere two years later when Cercei, who was fifteen at the time, was pregnant with her son. She'd given her child to the Gaunt family her child due to grief and trauma and therefore followed in her mother's footsteps and killed the Dark Lord at the time before rising up herself.

" Here is where it starts to get confusing. Cercei hadn't inherited her mother's elemental magic of water, but rather wind. It is believed that she'd fanned the flames during the Great Fire of London in her utter hatred of Muggles, but some accounts say that a woman whose skin shone silver in the flames with floor length black hair had held Lady Cercei as she wept bitterly. It is believed that she was the ghost of Nimue, the previous Dark Lady, but when her tomb was checked her body was no longer there. Cercei had brought her mother back to life for just one day and sacrificed her magic- rendering her a squib- for her mother. It is said that her mother had asked to see Merlin who was also deep in sorrow for he could have no children. Nimue had met with her brother and embraced him. She'd told him that she was, in fact, Morgana Le Faye, his sister and told him to look after her daughter and gave her to him as his own child. Merlin renamed Cercei as Morgana-Nimue but never once raised an arm in hatred toward her. Morgana had died for the second time that day and was put to proper rest in her tomb; her brother decorating it with flower garlands and ivy. Morgana's body had never decomposed, and you can still see her ethereal beauty in Clacton beach, England, inside a cave. Cercei; or rather, Morgana-Nimue; had a son with Afric Dumbledore who she named Afric the Second, whose descendant is the widely praised Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It is believed that her other child, of whom she had with Hadrian Slytherin, was renamed the infamous Morpheus Gaunt who was known because he'd married his adopted sister, and therefore started the chain of incest in the family. To the shock of the Wizarding World, as they hadn't known that he wasn't her blood brother, their children turned out fully healthy. Encouraged by this, the Gaunt family carried on inbreeding until today. Their children became vile and easily angered. The last living descendant today is Morfin Gaunt. And thus, ends the story of Merlin and Morgana- and indeed, her forgiven daughter Cercei, who had turned to the Light and repented for her misdeeds as a Dark Lady."

" But it isn't telling us everything." I whispered. Tom hummed.

" You're right. I wonder if they'd ever proven that Morgana was, in fact, Nimue or if they'd just assumed it... was it her story that paralleled with Morgana's that convinced them that she was her or was it their age and similar appearance?"

" It looks like a combination of all." I noted. " Do you think that Nimue is Morgana?" I asked. He frowned.

" There is a convincing amount of evidence that she is... But that could be the opinion of the author, set to sway us into their way of thinking. Remember, it might not be reliable. Most of the sources don't match up." Tom answered. I nodded in agreement.

" The one about her being burnt at the stake... We only have one man's word on that."

" And there is no evidence to support the fact that she had gone to Merlin."

" We haven't got the other perspective on Morgana- from Merlin's point of view."

" It seems as if though the author is... sympathetic toward Morgana."

" That's true. That makes it biased."

" Do you know what this reminds me of?" Tom asked. I shook my head. He gave me a rueful smile. " 1918, the murder of the Russian Romanov family. The monarchs." Realisation dawned on my face.

" The mystery of the Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov and Anna Anderson." I whispered. He nodded.

" Do you think we'll ever find out if Anna Anderson is Anastasia?"

" I doubt it. She was passed from asylum to institution. She was mad. There's nothing to say that she didn't dreamt it up or pretend for the sake of public attention and money. Besides, why would the rebels spare one of the daughters when they shot the rest? If they wanted to marry one of them to become the Czar themselves, they'd marry Olga, the oldest. Anastasia would be the last to inherit the throne, as she was the youngest daughter.

" But on the other hand, she did have the same foot condition as Anastasia. She also knew things that no one but members of the Russian Royal family would know. She also spoke many languages fluently, just as Anastasia did." I explained. Tom nodded. " This is what we need in Hogwarts. We need analysing in History of Magic, like we did in primary school. We need arithmetic and Muggle sciences." Tom smiled.

" And music, of course. I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano." An excited lurch found its way in my stomach.

" We could ask one of the teachers for lessons!" I exclaimed. Tom shook his head.

" They wouldn't take kindly to us changing the curriculum."

" No, I mean we can get private lessons from one of the teachers. At least one of them must know how to play an instrument. I know for a fact that Professor Borealis plays the harp."

" How do you know?" Tom asked, astonished. I smiled.

" He's got blisters on his fingers. This suggests that he either plays the guitar or another musical instrument. But I know it's a harp because I sometimes hear harp music coming from the astronomy tower when he plays. It's..." I knew Tom didn't have a concept of beauty, so I refrained from using the word 'beautiful'. "... relaxing." I looked up at the lake through the window. The moon's rippling silver light shone through, penetrating the dark green lake. " It's about time that we got to bed, Tom." I said, softly. He nodded.

"You're right. Good night, Katherine." He whispered, embracing me. I smiled and hugged him back.

" Good night, Tom." He broke away from the hug and climbed the ladder to the top bunk. I blew out the candles illuminating the room- there were six- and got into bed. I slid my eyes shut, thinking of Merlin and Morgana- of how their lives were like as children, of how Morgana was like and Merlin's refusal to join Morgana.

The parallels between Tom and Morgana are shocking. I thought. Both of them were abused very badly. I just hope I don't end up like Merlin and refuse to be with Tom, therefore casting him into madness. I shuddered.

I won't let that happen to you, Tom. I'll find a way to free you from Voldemort. But until then, I'll need to act inferior. It seems like the only way to keep Voldemort and his anger away from you.

For now.

A/N: Were you able to spot Katherine's strengths? What about your ideas on the chapter?

Remember, as my readers, you can tell me on what I can do to improve, but Kathy is on for a rocky road and she will rise and she will fall- sometimes with Tom, and sometimes without. I'm predicting that by the 9th-11th chapter we will have much more action and perhaps Katherine will-

BEEEP!

Spoilers!

Sorry, had to stop myself there. But I promise you that you will get what's on the tin by around then.

Until then,

Read, review and love!

Yours,

~ Annika