Over the next few weeks Castor seemed to have reverted back to an unassuming five year old - not that Pollux had paid heed to him before.

He was observing him very carefully now.

He observed how Castor subtly used everything in his environment to make himself stronger, physically as well as magically. Castor was preparing for war.

Castor was making himself physically stronger by flexing himself against unbreakable and unyielding objects - like the wall, or one of his toys. He went as close as he could to breaking an unbreakable object without breaking himself. It was a crude way of resistance training - but one Tom Riddle himself had used when he had wanted to grow strong and yet hide his strength.

Castor loved to play - which would be normal for a boy his apparent age. But Pollux now noticed that Castor would push himself slightly beyond the point of complete exhaustion every time he ran or jumped. Castor was slowly but surely building up his stamina.

Castor was also building up his magic, in pretty much the same way one builds up a muscle. He would surge up his magic as if to cast a spell, but instead of casting a spell he then held it in until it dissipated. Pollux was quite familiar with that method as well. Over time the surge came out stronger and stronger, and the control also became stronger.

And in all this, Castor was careful enough not to get noticed by any of the adults. He wasn't overdoing it either, in a way that would stunt his growth. He was taking it slow and steady, with a discipline Tom Riddle never had. No, Tom had been more for quick fixes.

Pollux was reminded of how woefully lacking his own preparation was. He vowed to pick up the pace; if for nothing else than to match Castor.

Pollux continued to search for other talents, now that parseltongue was out of the window. Nymphadora turned out to have talents in Metamorphmagic, as per the letter Minerva McGonagall had sent their mother (which she read out to the whole family in pride). He wondered if he would have such talents as well.

He remembered the Metamorph Nymphadora Tonks now. In another life he had taunted his most loyal follower, Bellatrix LeStrange into killing her. "Pruning the bad branches of the family tree" was what he'd called it, or something like that. That meant "Mother" was Andromeda Tonks nee Black, and "dad" was that mud- er, muggleborn she had married. What was his name again... Steve?

One of the things he'd noticed was that the level of magical power he had was pretty low compared with when he had been Tom Riddle. At this age as Tom Riddle he could occasionally read minds and coerce small pets into stealing kitchen knives and ritually disemboweling themselves.

He smirked a bit at that memory before he realized what he was thinking and dropped the smirk. He breathed a sigh of relief after a few seconds when it became obvious he was not going to be marked as a fail on thinking bad thoughts and continued his introspection.

Even if Tom Riddle's magical power had been abnormally high, Pollux could still tell his own power was very low. Till now he hadn't done accidental magic even once. If it hadn't been for what he'd observed Castor doing he would have feared the both of them were squibs. But Castor definitely had magic, and it was unheard of identical twins where one was magical and one was a squib.

But one thing was certain - he wouldn't be one of the more powerful wizards. He wouldn't be a Tom Riddle, or an Albus Dumbledore. He doubted he could even manage a Harry Potter - the brat for all his faults had been powerful enough to conjure a patronus at thirteen.

In a way that was a great guilty relief. He wouldn't become a dark lord. Because becoming a dark lord while you are nearly a squib is just asking to be shot in the back by your own followers.

But something told him Castor was not going to let that stop him.

Pollux decided he'd had enough of watching his twin surreptiously. He decided to confront him directly.

"Why did you kill the snake?", he asked Castor.

Castor looked at him in confusion and then narrowed his eyes. "We've covered this already, I-"

"You wanted to save me and you hate snakes, yes. But did you pause to consider the snake meant me no harm? Did you consider the snake was lost and as scared as I was?"

He had been very proud to have come up with that argument. Consideration and empathy did not come to him naturally, but he'd forced himself to think like the snake till he'd come up with this argument.

Castor seemed bemused to hear it. "I'll have to say, I did not consider that, Pollux".

Oh good, Castor was just unthinking, not a psychopath.

But then Castor continued, "You seem to understand the snake very well Pollux. How do you know whether it was scared or not?"

"I believe you should just have given it a chance." Great, he was sounding like Dumbledore now.

Castor merely raised an eyebrow and replied "Some don't deserve any chances. They won't change their nature no matter how many chances you give them."

And boy, didn't that one hit close to home...

Pollux replied "But you can't just go around killing, can you?"

Castor replied "I prefer to think of it as saving. I saved you after all, didn't I dear brother?"

Sure. He was Castor's dear brother. That's why Castor had hate in his eyes whenever he looked.

He had to make sure of one more thing...

"And what will you do when the reckoning comes? When you will be asked to account for all your killings?"

To which Castor said, "I don't think that's going to happen any time soon."

Pollux had everything he had come for.

There was no doubt in Pollux's mind that Castor was another Tom Riddle. The idea was not as absurd as it sounded. In fact, if you were an expert in occult and symbolism like Tom Riddle was, it did not sound absurd at all.

He had thought his path to redemption was too easy. He already knew of his mistakes, he didn't plan on making horcruxes and now it looked like he would never even have enough magical power to become a proper dark lord.

Pollux realized that the danger was never of him becoming a dark lord. When the soul of Tom Riddle was sent back to earth it was split yet another time - not in the manner of horcruxes, but in the manner the soul splits when a single embryo turns into identical twins.

He, Pollux had obviously ended up with the part of the soul that had undergone a lot of punishment, and understood the price a villain had to pay fate.

Castor on the other hand, had probably ended up with that part of the soul which had the ambition to become a dark lord. Maybe Castor was a blank slate like the original Tom Riddle, without any memories of the past. Maybe he remembered everything and still wanted to be a dark lord.

The symbolism was unmistakeable. The names of the twins, thembeing identical, the way Castor behaved, everything added up.

And there was only one person who could stop him. Pollux. It was fate after all.

Should he kill Castor now, before he becomes evil?

And then Pollux realized something. In the year he had spent with the Tonks, he had grown attached to everyone in the family - including Castor, even though he frankly scared him. The idea of killing seemed repugnant in a way it had never felt before.

Pollux savoured the feeling of disgust, of conscience. He was one of the good guys now. He couldn't go killing a child just because of who he would be as an adult.

He had already tried that once and it didn't go too well actually.

No, Pollux finally understood what it was he had to do. He had to redeem Castor. Give him the chance to do the right thing, the chance that no one had given Tom Riddle. Pollux had to prevent the rise of a dark lord.

And if that doesn't work, there's always plan B - murder.

And here he was thinking it was going to be too easy...

Now that he understood Castor a little better, he was surprised to find a strange camaraderie between the two of them. No one lese noticed, of course... they were twins after all, they were supposed to be close. But Pollux and Castor knew. Pollux felt for the first time he had someone he could treat as an equal.

He tried several times to, so to speak, bring Castor over to the side of Light. However, he was no Albus Dumbledore and his arguments sounded clumsy even to himself. Castor was clearly amused, but he tolerated his brother.

It was not long before Pollux's happy mood returned. He and Castor started having fun as only children have.

And in the summer holidays Nymphadora Tonks was back with them.

"DON'T CALL ME NYMPHADORA!" she bellowed for possibly the twentieth time.

"Why not Nymphadora?", asked Castor, "that's your name, init?"

"Yes Nymphadora, my dear brother has a point", Pollux decided to chime in.

"I don't like that name. Call me Tonks, instead."

"We can't call you Tonks, Nymphadora" protested Pollux reasonably, "we are all Tonks in this house."

"No you doofus", she said, "You two are Blacks. Only mother, dad and me are Tonks!"

By the look on Castor's face he was not aware of this either. Pollux braved and asked Nymphadora how come they were Blacks when everyone else is a Tonks.

"Oh, you guys don't remember? Uh... maybe you should talk to mother about this."

"You're just having us on," deduced Castor, "it's the old trick where you try to convince someone they are adopted. You really think we are gonna fall for that?"

Pollux wasn't too sure. He had a bad feeling about this.

Nymphadora was never one to back down. Her face became haughty and she replied, "Well guess what you two jokers, you are adopted. You are not children of my mother.

"Your mother is Auntie Bellatrix Black."

Authors Note: I had never realized how much work it would be to fill up the details of a story even when you have the outline prepared. I know the beginning and I know the end, but the middle stumps me ;)

I'll try to post the next chapter, "Bella's Tale" by the next weekend.

Meanwhile, please review!