"I had to force myself not to be overly-protective, because I had lost one child."

Diane Ladd

Andreas looked up from the letter.

He silently took a swig of his pumpkin juice- secretly mixed with a bit of mead, unbeknownst to his wife- and set it down, staring blankly ahead.

He had read Rhaegar's letter. He knew what it said.

Rhaegar had been proclaimed duelling champion and was on his way to the tournament.

And soon he would be on his way to the Armed forces.

All his children- including Rhaegar- was destined for great things, he felt it in his bones. And he didn't need to consult the vǫlva- their seer- to find out. She knew what she promised.

And Rhaegar would soon become a great- if not the greatest- warrior and leader. He would have a reputation to rival Arthur himself.

Katerina walked into the room, and stopped in her tracks once she saw him. "What?' she asked breathlessly.

Wordlessly, he handed her the letter and drank a swig of the juice again. He saw her deep, yet icy-clear, blue eyes- so much like Rhaegar's- widen when she read what their son had written.

"Is it true?" she asked. She clutched the table. Andreas took her hand. He stood and held her. "It's not our choice." He said quietly. "I'm taking him to the initiation ceremony anyway. He's finished his education. According to Dumbledore, who's written to me, he finished his NEWTs. He's already of age, and I have to take him to the annual gathering. He'll be accepted as an adult member of the Volsunga and soon he will start training for the Armed forces."

Katerina gasped and paled. He couldn't blame her. The forces had a brutal way of training, and if one survived…

But it wasn't as if Rhaegar hadn't encountered anything like this before. It was just the horror and the dread that he might have to again.

"This wasn't what was supposed to be!" his wife exclaimed pulling back.

Andreas sighed. "Then what? We were lucky to get him back, but did he truly come back? The boy we remembered is gone- forced to grow up least he never received that chance- forced to do and go through what no child should have had to. And when he came back, we were lucky to have him back sane, instead of just safe and sound. But something's happened to him that we can't reverse- and now he's a grown man whether you like it or not. They're all growing, and soon they'll leave." His voice turned bitter. "It's the way of the world. Better that then they stay behind and turn to rust in the home they grew up in.

"This is Rhaegar's choice," Andreas reminded his wife firmly. "And soon he will be in the Armed forces. I have no doubt he'll survive, and I'll pray every night for him to return. There is nothing more that we can do, but to trust in his competency and abilities."

Katerina turned away. "You've consulted the vǫlva haven't you?"

He didn't answer.

She asked him, "What did she say?"

He sighed. "What will happen will happen. But it's not Rhaegar's fate to die in battle, nor for the longed-for prophecy to gather dust in a shelf. It's going to happen. And I have a feeling our children- or even our grandchildren- will have a part in its making. She told me herself."

Katerina was silent. "Then make sure you put him in good hands. I want an instructor who isn't just interested in squeezing the moisture out of the cream and taking the good parts. Or in making money for himself. Someone who helps his own cadets and thinks of them as his honour and responsibility- and not a burden. I'm not asking him to coddle my son, but I want to know if he's on good hands and has been taught well."

"You'll have my word for it," Andreas said softly, before she left the room.

Rhaegar was Head Boy. And it looked like he had a promising career ahead of him.

His father had written to say that before long, he would take them to the clan's leaders and have him fully recognized as an adult. Then after the tourney, whether he won or lost, he would enter the training to become a cadet.

It was going to be hard and brutal, even. But it wasn't as if he had never experienced brutal regimens before.

So why did he feel uneasy?

It wasn't because the details of the training. It wasn't just because he would miss Hogwarts.

Something was about to happen.

Not to mention Philomena was about to start school in one more year. As soon as she was eleven, she would board the train and off to school she would go, and Rhaegar had no idea whether or not she would be alright.

And there was another thing that made him uneasy: his other sister.

Athelinda had not been herself soon after the duel. She was all quiet, and it seemed to Rhaegar that sometimes, lost in her own thoughts as she was, she was contemplating something- maybe she was even at war with herself over that whatever it was. She looked at him strangely- sometimes with fear and worry, other times with hurt, another kind of fear- or maybe even terror, and anger. Or rage. It changed so much he could hardly keep track.

She had put up the most splendid fight- he was hard-pressed. But although he and Athelinda had duelled together countless times; this time, it felt different. Something wasn't right.

Did she want to be duelling champion? Athelinda was ambitious. It was one of the traits that got her into Slytherin House, after all. She was exceptionally intelligent and ruthless in completing a challenge. But she was never open about anything- not like she used to as a child- and kept her thoughts to herself- and her snakes.

Both he and Athelinda had been taken from their parents when they were small. But whilst Athelinda had been wrapped in the loving coils of a mother Naga, he had been snatched, flogged and tortured, and forced to do things he regretted. But both experiences had given them both something- the ability to survive even the darkest of places and situations. And for that he was grateful.

The war was still going. The Volsung clan's Armed forces would need him. But it was mostly a stalemate now, and everyone was trying to figure out how to break it. Grindelwald had established himself in Central and Eastern Europe and was now looking towards the west and north. The south would be safe- for now.

And once Europe was conquered… one could only imagine what came next. It was not a war they could afford to lose.

Rhaegar gripped his wand so tight that red and gold sparks flew out. He relaxed his grip, immediately realising that the sparks had fallen onto a trail of… water?

Rhaegar looked disgusted. Someone had left the taps running, didn't they? He could have easily waved his wand and cleared the water but he needed to get to the source first.

He followed the trail, and stopped dead.

Ice flooded everywhere and now he felt something which he had always so successfully mastered: fear.

For a student lay on the ground, her face contorted with an expression of shock, terror and dread that was forever imprinted onto Rhaegar's mind.

And above her, in blood, was writing.

The professors had come running; the caretaker too. Headmaster Dippet had run from his office, with his cloak half-fastened and his hat askew. The prefects had been summoned and the Head Girl too.

Shock was plastered all over their faces as they saw the scene: a girl frozen in a position of horror. The teachers and caretaker quickly took charge. The water was drained, the place roped off. The girl was carried off to the hospital wing for inspection. Her parents were to be immediately notified.

"She's not dead," Dumbledore said.

"What?" Dippet asked, startled.

Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "She has been petrified."

Petrified?!" was the response.

The prefects were ordered to take students back to their common rooms and dormitories to stay there until further notice was given by their heads of houses.

Jaw clenching tightly, face white, Rhaegar approached Dumbledore.

"Professor I-" he began.

"Hush," Dumbledore reprimanded softly. "Not here."

He guided Rhaegar to his office.

Once inside Rhaegar took a deep breath and expelled it. "Professor-" he began again.

"What did the writing on the wall say?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Rhaegar closed his eyes. "'After a nearly a thousand years, the Chamber of Secrets has finally been opened.' Professor, what is this? What is the Chamber of Secrets?"

Dumbledore did not answer. He turned his back to Rhaegar and he took this opportunity of silence to say, "It was written in blood. Her blood, if we were to guess. Professor Kettleburn also told me that the school roosters have been strangled. What is this? Who is doing this, and what are they up to?" he was growing increasingly frustrated.

"One can only tell," Dumbledore said gravely. "What can you tell me about this girl? I mean what do you know about her?" Rhaegar looked bewildered.

"Nothing you probably don't know, Professor," he said. "She's in Ravenclaw, and a fourth-year. Her name is Amanda Prestford and she's a Muggle-born. Her parents are Muggles."

It was in that shocked realisation that Rhaegar believed she was the victim of some Pure-blood fanatic- possibly a Grindelwald supporter.

"Are they here?" he hissed. He gripped his wand tightly. "Grindelwald- do you think he may have gotten one of them here?" He looked ready to kill.

"I don't think so," Dumbledore said quietly. "I believe this is done by something or someone, far darker than Grindelwald."

"Darker than Grindelwald?" Rhaegar asked. "I doubt anyone could reach such a level, or has since nearly a thousand years." But when he said it, it struck him, that was what the writing had said- nearly a thousand years.

Ice flooded through him again.

"Professor," Rhaegar repeated slowly. "What is the Chamber of Secrets?"

"A legend," Dumbledore said. "Or at least I used to believe."

"What... legend?" Rhaegar asked.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. Then he looked up, without even turning to Rhaegar. "The founders," it was all he said.

Reverence and awe hit Rhaegar, just as it hit everyone else- or nearly everyone-

when they heard about the Founders of Hogwarts- the four of the greatest witches and wizards that had ever lived. The ones that had trained Merlin to greatness in his time, and Arthur.

But this time, he had other concerns.

"What about the founders?" he asked sceptically.

Dumbledore sighed. "The legend goes that Salazar Slytherin, after Hogwarts was completed, built a hidden chamber, deep below the castle."

More ice. But he mastered his fear, like he always did. "And," Rhaegar said slowly. "What was inside the chamber?"

Dumbledore was silent, and still as a statue for a moment. "A monster," was all he said.

Shock hit Rhaegar. Salazar Slytherin, Founder of Hogwarts, turning against his own fellow friends and founders, even his own students?

Never.

The problem was the founders lived nearly a thousand years ago. And the further back one went, the sparser the records became. Few actual facts were found regarding the lives of the legendary four. In fact, a few scholars believed they were nothing more than legend.

There was a cloud of mist that separated them in their own time from the Founders of Hogwarts. There were more legends and myths surrounding them than there were real facts. Some were known: Helga Hufflepuff being an inventor of many food charms, Rowena Ravenclaw creating the complex staircase plan, Godric Gryffindor acquiring a sword that was made by Ragnuk the goblin king and Salazar Slytherin training Merlin. That and a few other facts, were all they knew.

They were revered and held in awe for their legend, knowledge and power. But they were hardly seen as ordinary wizards and witches, except for a few notable magical historians who tried- unsuccessfully- to uncover the people behind the myths and legends. But the fact was that there was more to know about Ancient Greece, Atlantis and their legendary mages, than about the Hogwarts Four.

They lived in the time known as the Dark Ages- the reason why most Muggles, lacking the amount of magical proof wizards possessed- thought King Arthur was a mere legend.

"You are saying," Rhaegar said slowly. "That the Founders of Hogwarts actually existed? That they were more than just legend?" Dumbledore looked at him.

"'Just legend'?" Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "And you do not believe, that someday, you may be considered 'just a legend', told to children to inspire and amuse? That your very existence and the existence of your accomplishments were nothing more than stories told around a camp-fire in the woods? No, the Founders of Hogwarts were real, as Merlin himself was. Who do you think taught him in the beginning?"

Rhaegar knew the answer. He simply needed confirming- to make sure it wasn't some dream. "Salazar Slytherin." Dumbledore nodded.

"That's right." His eyes twinkled. "A fact which your sister is undoubtedly proud of, I'm sure. That Merlin was taught within these very walls and slept in the very dungeons that she slept in. Merlin was perhaps the most brilliant student Hogwarts had ever seen- although we still hope someday, of knowing the privilege of teaching another."

"So what about them?" Rhaegar demanded. "They're not saying- that Salazar Slytherin built a secret chamber with a monster, are they? It can hardly be proven that he built something without the knowledge of his fellow founders and he lived nearly- if not roughly- a thousand years ago. How would anyone know? Furthermore, why would he do something like that? And even if he did, he can hardly be the one to open it himself, in this very moment!"

"So many questions," Dumbledore said heavily. "Yes, that is what we have- more questions than answers. But it's where all beginnings are like. The real question that concerns me is whether we will have the answers to those questions when the time passes, or if the amount of answers we have will be as limited to what we have right now. If so, than we may yet have a chance. If not…" he trailed off.

"Will this- monster- attack again?" Rhaegar asked. "Or is this some student's-or intruder's- idea of causing havoc and mayhem among us, knowing that Hogwarts is considered the safest place in Britain, and knowing Grindelwald will turn his eye towards this country, sooner or later?"

There was a silence.

"I do not believe it is Gellert Grindelwald," Dumbledore said slowly. "He went to the Durmstrang Institute- as your mother can confirm. And he has never visited Hogwarts, as anyone can tell. But it is possible that someone is doing this to destabilise our sense of morale at the time when we need them most."

"A supporter?" Rhaegar demanded, alert.

"Time can only tell," Dumbledore replied, casting his eyes towards the window.

Then Rhaegar had to ask something else.

"You said that these were dark forces beyond the work of Grindelwald. If these were so dark and so powerful, it is clearly a threat. What other forces do you think there are?"

Dumbledore did not answer

Whispers spread throughout the school and it set Athelinda into a fire of rage.

The stories had begun to spread- after the attack on the Muggle-born girl. First the fools believed Grindelwald had infiltrated the castle. Then, they started saying that it was Salazar Slytherin- legendary wizard and the founder of Slytherin House- built something like a hidden chamber and placed a monster there.

The absurdity of it was not lost on Athelinda, even though it was on many fools throughout the school. And now they said that Salazar Slytherin was a Muggle-born hating tyrannical wizard and a lover of Dark Magic.

It was nearly all she could bear.

Worse of all, people had started to view the Slytherins with suspicion. She did everything in her power not to scream and rage, or curse these people who spread such stories. Just because some of them were pure-blood elitist idiots, does not mean that Slytherins were guilty!

Merlin was a Slytherin, trained by Salazar himself. He founded the Camelot Age, and the Order of Merlin which for centuries, protected Muggles from Dark Wizards, little as they deserved it. So why would Salazar Slytherin be guilty?! Why would any Slytherin?!

She threw down her books hard in rage when she heard a trio of students whispering everything. Startled, they looked at her, saw the colour rising in her cheeks and possibly remembered the duel with her brother, turned and fled, as fast as their legs could carry them. Good. Let them fear her, as long as they learned respect for them all.

"Upset?" a voice asked.

She turned to see Tom Riddle looking down on her with- was it concern?

"Why wouldn't I be?" she muttered, not bothering with artificial pretences. "Slytherin's name has been tarnished, and we are all viewed with suspicion. Soon the Ministry of Magic will be knocking on our doors- demanding to take each and every single one of us for questioning in Azkaban, to see if any of us are Grindelwald supporters."

"That will never happen," she looked up startled, as she sensed there was an undercurrent of anger in Tom's voice. She stared.

"What makes you think that?" she asked without thinking.

"I will never let them," Tom said and there was something in his voice- the absence of which would have allowed her to laugh- that convinced her he would be capable of doing such a thing.

She sat back down, staring at him. They were in the library.

"You're in sixth-year." She said. "You're a student. They would never listen-"

"Yes they would." Tom said. Again there was that note.

"Well, maybe teachers can persuade them not to take us," she noted. Her mind went to Dumbledore. If there was anyone who actually would, it was him.

"We don't need the teachers," Tom Riddle said, his dark eyes glinting. They were as black as hers.

"We have ourselves; the young, the intelligent. The ones with enough ambition, intellect and will to change this world. This society, if you can call it that, is corrupt- rooted to its very core with weakness and a desire for their own purposes. They do not know or think that anything can be achieved in this society, and they do not want it to change. Not if it means handing their power- ill-gotten as it is- to another with enough strength, energy and brains to change the society for the better."

She sat there gaping and stunned.

Who was this boy?

"Things have to change," he went on. "Do you deny that?"

She didn't.

"Be careful how you talk," she hissed. "If anyone hears you-"

"They will suspect me of being a Grindelwald supporter," Tom said smoothly. He actually rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know."

"Is that the way things in this world are, then?" she asked, edgily, testily. "That you are either a Grindelwald supporter, or a fat, lazy corrupt ministry official?"

He smirked. "Well, that is the way things are supposed to be."

She looked at him icily. "Just because things are 'supposed' to be like this," she said, building in temper, but trying to keep it cool- and thus far successful-"does not mean they should be this way. We have the power and might to change the world. And why should anyone stop us?" she stood and placed her face closer to his. "Because they're afraid?" she asked softly.

He smiled.

She drew back, "Well, I suppose someone has to, don't they? So you will?"

"Why not?" he raised an elegant eyebrow.

She smirked. "Then go ahead," she gathered up her books and prepared to leave.

"We're Slytherins, Tom Riddle," she said. "Just like Merlin. We don't walk in anyone's shadow."

And with that double meaning, she left with him still staring.

Rhaegar had had it. His temper was frayed as it was.

Snapping at them to quieten up, he turned their attention towards him.

The Gryffindor Common Room was one of the cosiest places in the world- to him anyway- but this day, it did nothing to relax him.

It wasn't as if anything had been redecorated: it was still the same.

The round room was decorated with red tapestries embroidered with gold, portraits of famous Gryffindors (who were the only ones to notice that he looked ready to explode), soft, squashy armchairs, and handsome oak and chestnut furniture. There was a fire roaring in the grate but his mood didn't lessen- not this time.

He was ready to explode.

He glared at them while they took their time sitting down and intensified the glare further so many of their voices faltered and they ceased talking. A pity, he would have made an explosion out of his wand. But it would come soon enough.

"So," he said in a dangerous voice. They looked at him fearfully. They had never seen him like this. "You've decided to be somewhat lax in mannerisms, have you, now that there's a 'monster' loose and Quidditch matches have started up again?"

There was a silence. He glared further. They recoiled.

"No one gives a damn about how much points you win for Quidditch if you're going to lose them anyway. How dare you besmirch the name of the House of Gryffindor with your behaviour?"

He sounded so dangerous, many of them paled.

He glared at them, looking each and every single one of them in the eye.

"We are at war," he reminded them in a voice so frightening, they would never forget, unless memory charms were employed. "Currently, forces are struggling abroad and you sit here, gossiping and insulting your fellow students whom you've seen every day for the entire time that you've lived here!" his voice had gone louder in volume and was now openly shouting.

"So you would turn over your fellow students at the first given moment, isn't that right?" he asked, terrifying them further. "As long as they aren't in Gryffindor? Or maybe you just want them out of the way so you can win the House Cup?"

Several students stuttered in protest. Many tried to say something but quailed under his gaze.

"You should indeed be ashamed of yourselves, if what Rhaegar said is true," A voice near the portrait hole said.

Everyone's head turned to see Professor Dumbledore, transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House looking grave.

"Professor Dumbledore," Rhaegar said. "I was just saying-" Dumbledore held out a hand.

"I understand," he said gravely. "And I fully support your reasons." He looked sternly at them, but also seemed to have compassion.

"Hogwarts," he began. "Is a school where young minds and talents are nurtured. It is also a place where they are able to meet for the very first time, and to make friends whom they would normally have never made if they had gone to a smaller school or stayed at home. Does it matter if one student sleeps in a tower and another in a dungeon? Does it matter if one student hangs red banners and another green? Here you have the opportunities to make friends to last a lifetime, and trust me when I say, that these are the greatest friends of all."

He looked at each of the students in the eye as he said this. And their gazes all dropped. They looked ashamed and guilty.

"I do not want to hear you committing such prejudice again," Dumbledore said sternly and quietly. "And I do not want to hear about you turning against the people who are here to support you, and whom you are meant to support in such times of peril. We are at war, and at any day, Grindelwald may invade and cost us the lives of millions, as he is doing elsewhere. In such times, we need to be unified. United we stand, divided we fall. And the day we cast suspicion upon our fellow friends and allies, is the day when we have isolated ourselves, and made it easy for us all to fall prey to such evil.

"In this time, I hope I have made you understand, that in such dangerous times, if we want to prevail and live the way we wish, we must have faith in our friends- including the ones we rarely speak to. The House of Godric Gryffindor has never been biased in whom it supports in admission to the school- and despite the many stories and legends that surround it, there has never been actual proof that the house of Salazar Slytherin did either."

The whole room had gone quiet. Gazing at each of the students, who looked chastised, Dumbledore turned, nodded to Rhaegar and left. Rhaegar took one contemptuous look at his fellow Gryffindors, for good measure, and left as well, going out of the portrait hole.

He strode out, struggling to catch up with the professor. "Professor!" he called out.

Dumbledore stopped. "That was a very noble thing you did, Rhaegar," he said. "And I don't think you were doing it just because one of them is your sister."

"No," Rhaegar looked down. "I admit, I felt rather bad for them- after all, even if the culprit was of them, it does not mean the rest of the house are guilty."

"No," Dumbledore smiled for the first time that day.

"And everyone should be given a chance to explain themselves," Rhaegar continued.

He sensed Dumbledore's approval.

Rhaegar sighed. "I have been researching on the stories about the Founders," he admitted. "And few of them offered me consistent facts- most were just stories. With no actual proof, or any backing of evidence from other sources."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. He sighed.

"But I did find something," Rhaegar persisted. "And it sparked my interest- and raised more questions. Years after the school was completed and gained renown- Salazar Slytherin disappeared. The book said that he went missing and was never found. There is no mention of him after that."

"I should think not," Dumbledore said slowly. "It is all very suspicious. Unfortunately, we are not able to find out more. Salazar Slytherin is long gone, and the details of his life are, in most part, lost to us. "

Rhaegar sighed. "One would think," he said. "That four pf the most academically brilliant witches and wizards in history would have documented something about their own lives. Instead, they deemed it enough to name the houses after them." He shook his head. "There have been three attacks. All of them petrified. How strange is that? They have no injuries, no deaths, but they're…. frozen... in horror. The only thing I can think of with a similarity is the Avada Kedavra, except that they are very obviously, not dead."

"Yes," Dumbledore said regretfully. "It is just like that, except that it is not."

"Do you really think that it's a monster? Or the work of a wizard?" Rhaegar asked. "I don't believe any student could do this by themselves. This is beyond any magic ever performed by adults."

"You are keeping an open mind," Dumbledore said approvingly. "That is very good. Most people would jump on the rumours and the myth."

Rhaegar laughed slightly. "I am not 'most people' professor. I have a tendency to step back and think outside my square. I consider other people's thoughts and feelings and the actions they would take."

"Which is why you would make such a great leader." Dumbledore said. "You know no such favouritism, nor prejudice, and you take others into consideration, placing them above yourself."

Rhaegar looked startled. "Me? A leader, Professor, surely-" he trailed off. This was sounding eerily like his father. He had high hopes for him.

"And that lack of arrogance, and surety in yourself, is what will make you a good one," Dumbledore acknowledged with a curiously wistful look. "Tell me Rhaegar, did your father ever speak to you about leadership?"

Rhaegar blinked. "He did… more than once," he reluctantly admitted. "But I just can't understand why he wants me to be a leader. Of course, many parents have dreams on what their child will be, but it's as if it is less of a want, and more of a need- as if something else would happen if I don't fulfil that role." He looked at Dumbledore in frustration. "It's not as if I'm the unfortunate descendant of Arthur everyone keeps waiting for, destined to fulfil the prophecy."

Dumbledore sighed. "Only time can tell if that prophecy will happen in our lifetimes."

Rhaegar looked grim. "But Grindelwald wants it. He wants to have the descendants of Arthur found. Does he want to control this universal Utopia and place wizards in charge? Or eradicate any possibility that Muggles and wizards may live together in peace?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Alas, if only we knew what goes on inside Grindelwald's mind."

"He's costing us greatly, sir. My father keeps writing to me of the reports. So many are dead."

Dumbledore himself looked deadened. "Yes," he said quietly. "It's time to act."

Athelinda bit her lip.

She might have misjudged Tom Riddle.

She admitted that.

The boy appeared to have shared her dreams and ambitions. In him, maybe she found a kindred spirit.

Maybe there was a reason why they were more like followers than friends- because they felt he was a leader- that he had what it took- strength, will-power, brains and talents- to lead. At the same time, maybe he was so distant- so isolated, and detached from them because he never really belonged.

Like her.

She was more comfortable with snakes than with giggling fluttery girls who gossiped and discussed only fashion and boys. She never liked the stares she received and the attention the boys gave her was unwanted. Domestic life would hold her down as she would not have a chance to live before her life was set in a familiar pattern and she would fade into obscurity- as if she was good at nothing else.

Boys tended to underestimate her- even covet her. It was disgusting. As if she was nothing more than such an object. All those giggling, fluttery girls who obsessed about boys more than they themselves would ever obsess about girls, were an embarrassment. It was because of fools like them- needy, vain, insecure and hopelessly enamoured with the idea of romance itself- that boys tended to look down upon them. It was a weakness which she swore never to fall for. She had more pride and dignity than that.

But she never thought that Tom Riddle underestimated her. She never really noticed him until recently, but she knew he didn't think her a fool like all the others- her actions would prove that, and her mind. She never saw him covet a girl either. Or go out with any of them, only to move onto another. Why did girls obsess so much over boys when they themselves, were too absorbed in other matters- if not just themselves- to reciprocate? They did not seem to realise that they might be little more than an amusement to all those who liked to throw their charm around for the sake of a pretty girl.

She would never be like that. And she hoped Philomena never would. She was certain she taught her sister to be better than that. It would be a disgrace to the family name if she didn't.

But what did Tom really want?

It irked her.

And at the same time, he appeared to be more than she previously thought, which intrigued her. She hated to admit it, but now she was interested, almost to the point of being nosy. It was none of her business.

Sighing, she closed her eyes (she was leaning against a pillar) enjoying the sunshine. For once she was outdoors.

"Relaxing, are we?" she heard his now-familiar voice.

Athelinda opened her eyes and turned her head slightly.

"Oh, it's you," she said in a tone that was meant to be dismissive, even bored. "What is it now? I'm already in the Slug Club. What are you trying to recruit me for?"

"Recruit you?" Never had Riddle sounded more alarmed.

"Mmmmm," she said. "I'm not daft, you know. And neither are you. Or at least, that's what everyone tells me. So I'll say this one more time, and no more than that: I will never walk in anyone's shadow."

There was a moment of quiet. "No," Tom breathed quietly. "I don't think you would."

"You had best believe that." She looked at him coldly. "Since everyone is talking about Salazar Slytherin, I might as well say: there were four founders- and they were all revered as equals- none greater than the other. If my brother must go to greatness- than I shall do so in my own way." She smirked. "No, I did not think you were stupid, Tom."

Tom Riddle was about to say something when a green head appeared from around the hem of her robes. He watched in astonishment as it slithered up, and rested itself on her shoulder. The snake was warming itself in the sun.

Athelinda opened her black eyes again and regarded him. There was power in her gaze- and coldness. Of that she was certain, due to the way Tom Riddle was regarding her quietly.

"You are clever," she said. "But you have yet to notice things that I keep hidden." The snake and the girl both regarded him.

"You keep it?" Tom asked astonished.

"Surprised?" She asked. "A cat, an owl or a toad does not suit me. I prefer a snake. In any case they are more comforting and trustworthy as companions than humans- I can relate."

Tom looked at her wide-eyed. So she had succeeded in shocking and impressing him. "You're a Parselmouth," he said, astonished, the realisation hitting him.

"Surprise indeed," she said lazily leaning her head back and closing her eyes again. But she regarded him between her eyelids. "I told you, I have reasons not to be in anyone's shadow."

Tom spoke in hushed, almost excited tones. "Is that in your family?"

She let out a mocking laugh. But it didn't sound as scornful as it should and Riddle's face was almost… stunned.

No, he was.

"No," and she proceeded to tell him the story of her birth and infancy. He stood stock-still as she related the tale.

"Surprised now?" she asked.

He regarded her thoughtfully. It was almost in wonder. "Athelinda," he breathed quietly. "You are a wonder."

And there was something in his voice that astounded her, although she tried to hide it, but it made her brow furrow. There was something other than the soothing charm he employed on the teachers and the other students. At any rate, she had hoped to earn people's respect and was thus glad to have earned his awe.

It reminded her of her power. And she needed little more than what she already had.

She was glad.

This boy might not be so bad after all.

Well, I'm wondering what you think about her! I'm desperate to make her relatable, even possible to admire Athelinda, but I'm desperate also not to make her a Mary Sue! In fact, she has serious flaws- understandable, maybe, but it's obvious, why she would start to regret her actions later on in life, isn't it? Clearly, we all know who Tom Riddle is, and we know his motives- she's impressed him, intrigued him and he might be developing an obsession with acquiring her, if not more. Yet she's ambitious, and is becoming increasingly blind to which are her ideals and which are her own personal ambition. She might even be someone you care for, but want to slap as well.

And yeah, I know the Atlantis thing is- well, are there any words to describe it? But Isn't it strange that they live in underground communities alongside Muggles? And there is little doubt- Muggles have learnt to fly- what ground-breaking innovations do wizards and witches have since something like that happened? When Harry was in Hogwarts, he listened to radios. Where's the T.V equivalent for wizards? And trains, buses and cars are Muggle inventions- why did they have to modify them instead of making something of themselves? They need to get a hold of themselves! As awesome as their world is, it can always get even better!