Thank the Lord for study periods. It was then when I was given a chance to go to the library. As I got up to leave the hall all the other students were working in, Blaise stood too.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. He had been giving me funny looks all day. I wondered if I had been acting strangely, the discovery last night had put me a bit on edge.

"Nobody knows the library better than I do." he stated, then reconsidering, "Except for Granger." I looked behind me to see Hermione stick her tongue out at Blaise's back, and then gave me a look. I knew what it meant. The galleon was already hot in my pocket, the date for the first meeting was set.

I looked around hopelessly. People were starting to take notice. "Fine!" I said, out loud, and off we headed to the library.

As much as I loved the school library, a large room where the books magically arranged themselves not only on shelves, but often in the air as well, it was far too big to know what to look for. I had certainly not been here long enough to find what I was looking for myself, and how could I ask a teacher without revealing the reason? I resolved then, on the way, that I would simply have to tell Blaise. Better now than in the library, where talking was barely permitted.

"...TMR, Tom Marvolo Riddle, but what I need to know, is who is BMB?" We had stopped walking now, Blaise looking at me in shock.

"You think you're the heir of Slytherin?" he asked, disbelieving. It felt like a slap across the face.

"I don't, Dumbledore does, or at least I thought that was what he meant. It's worth investigating anyway!" I exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him onward. We reached the library without another word, but I could practically feel Blaise rolling his eyes behind me.

He walked directly to a section I didn't recognise, and ran his fingers over the spines of many books until he found one. It was a large, green, leather bound book. The pages were yellow and wrinkled at the edges, and it smelt of mould. I looked back on the shelf it came from to see that there were three more volumes like it. They each were of the same width and the same worn leather, but these were in red, yellow and blue.

I looked again at the book. The title was embossed in gold, the tails of the letters extending out to the very edges of the page, twirling and cartwheeling over one another in an intricate pattern to complicated to follow with your own eyes. The words read SALAZAR SLYTHERIN. It was a book of Elders. I knew enough about them to know that all of the most prominent wizards throughout history had them, they detailed their theories, contribution to wizarding society and their family trees. I had no doubt that the latter was the cause of attraction for Blaise, attempting to teach me a lesson.

Indeed, Blaise flipped the book open to a page which contained a family tree. He dragged his finger down it, showing me the ends of all the different branches, how they all died out eventually. Finally, his finger came to a stop at the bottom of the House of Gaunt. I knew this all too well, yet he insisted that I look at the final name, no more branches, the last link severed. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

I shook my head. "We're looking in the wrong place!" I protested, dragging him along to a section I remember passing on my many attempts to find the right reading materials to help me with my essays. The student section, holding records of every student who ever went to Hogwarts. I went directly to the schools equivalent to yearbooks, (ledgers, they were called), and searched for the ledger labelled 1945. The graduating year of Tom Riddle. I took it down, taking out the revealer, systematically rubbing any page in hope of finding something. Mostly, graffiti had been written- presumably by former students- about the teachers they had had. I saw a few hearts around Dumbledore's name, he was a transfiguration teacher at the time.

I finally reached the students and began looking over the names, but my eyes refused to focus any longer. Blaise had become quite interested in my venture, looking over my shoulder at first, and by now sitting beside me, equally enchanted by the past. When I expressed my complaint he willingly took the book from me, looking for BMB.

Blaise worked laboriously for ten unfruitful minutes when suddenly he sat stark upright in his chair. He shook my shoulder in violent excitement.

"There are two!" he exclaimed, pointing to two pictures, "Belinda Margaret Boundsnout and Beth Madralda Bellast!" I snapped up, staring at the two girls. What were the chances? I looked at both of them hard. Belinda was a tough looking girl, with dark hair and eyes, whereas Beth was fairer, with a smile which seemed forced, plastic. They both bore very little resemblance to myself.

"Try the revealer!" I insisted, nudging him with it. He rubbed it lightly over both of them and chuckled.

"Batty Betty," he said under his breath.

"What did you say?" I asked, sure I had misheard him.

"Batty Betty, it's written right here under Beth..." my eyes were wide as I saw it for myself, indeed the words 'Batty Betty' were scribbled under the picture. I pulled my bag out from behind the desk, desperately trying to find my History of Magic essay.

"Care to explain what's going on?"

I found it, slapping the scroll down on the desk in triumph.

"Look at this!" I exclaimed. Our History of Magic assignment had been to find out about our own wizarding family's history, see if we could find anything interesting. "Batty Betty is what we call my Grandmother," I pointed at the family tree six inches down. "That's her, Beth Madralda Bellast!"

The overwhelming possibility had overcome us both, and we fell silent. If what Dumbledore had speculated was right, Betty had had a child with Tom Riddle, and I came the generation after.