Uh... Hey?

Been a while. Thinking about all the people that forgot this story existed, or even quit reading fanfictions and got a notification there was an update.

Anyway, chapter 7. Who would have thought?

Unfortunately, I didn't have a beta-reader for this chapter. After two years, knocking on the door of Asmodeus Stahl would be a bit impolite. Expect a drop of quality from the previous chapters that were all worked on by him.

Regardless, for those who will read this, I hope you'll enjoy.


"Are you sure of what you want to do?" McGonagall asked, as she could clearly see Hermione fidget in her seat.

The brown-haired girl had been stressed to death over the past twenty-four hours. Even after leaving the train, and during the walk to the Great Hall, she had never managed to gather the courage to go and talk to the group that had saved her life. When they looked in a good mood, looking a lot more friendly than usual, which was not a lot, they still looked unattainable, their gracious gestures expressing a class she was definitely not a part of.

"Yes," she answered, knowing there was no future for her inside of Gryffindor.

Now, the question that remained in the back of her head and had yet to find an answer: where should she end? Did she try Slytherin, for the best or for the worst, decided to listen to her heart and pick out Ravenclaw, or did she try the safest choice and the risk of feeling regrets, and went to Hufflepuff?

"If you are sure then," McGonagall continued. Her hard eyes softened, the worry of her former house member obvious on her face. "I know you didn't enjoy being a Gryffindor, and after being told your house would be like your second home, I can understand why you are reluctant in choosing another one."

The woman bent down a bit, to make sure her face was just in front of the sitting girl's own. A rare warm smile blossomed on her face, as she looked into the brown eyes that once shined with amazement, and that held so much potential.

"But you may be overthinking the situation. Why don't you just try, this time, to let the hat guide you? What you want isn't always what you need," she finished, getting up, still smiling at the scared teenager in front of her.

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. Maybe, for once, she should let herself be guided by the events. She closed her eyes, resolving herself not to interfere with the hat's research.

"I am ready then," she said, closing her hands to stop them from shivering. McGonagall silently put the sorting hat on the girl's head.

'My, My, My. You again. I have to admit, I can't say I didn't expect to sort you again.' The hat started, with his deep baritone voice that held a tinge of amusement.

'You knew ?'

'Of course, miss. I have been sorting students since the creation of this school, I have enough experience to be able to tell when a student was not sorted in the right house, and have seen those students being either resorted, or some who simply left the school because they were not in their element. Back a few centuries ago, when the world was a lot more... cruel, as per say, some didn't make it to the end of their first year.'

'They died?' Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking.

'Of course. Gryffindor could be quite a little... pushy, and the forbidden forest was a lot more dangerous back then. Aaah, the test of courage... Good old times.'

It shouldn't have surprised Hermione. After all, she had been almost killed, too.

'Young Miss, your qualities have not changed since the first time you were presented to me. Do you want to try your luck again?' the hat said with sarcasm. The girl could honestly say she didn't know magical artefacts had feelings.

'This time, I'd rather let you decide.'

'Ah, so my advice does matter in the end! Better late than never. Young Miss, you are searching for recognition and greatness, and are in a quest of earning your place in the magical world. Understandable, really. There is one house that will guide you to what you are searching for, and it is none other than...'

"Slytherin." The hat finished, McGonagall nodding and taking it off the girl's head. Immediately, Hermione's robes turned green and silver.

"Perfect. To be honest, I did expect such an ending. The house elves will move all of your belongings to your new room, don't bother searching for them. Here is the Slytherin timetable: I'd suggest running to breakfast before you can't anymore," the teacher said to the girl, handing her the piece of paper.

Hermione didn't ask for more. She thanked the transfiguration teacher, and rushed out of the office, feeling as hungry as she could be. Plus, maybe she could finally get those thanks out of the way.

When she finally arrived in front of the Great Hall, she took a deep breath, clapped both of her cheeks with her hands, and walked in. Most were oblivious to the new student, but a bunch of people had immediately noticed the change in her robes. The first group was a few older Slytherins, but while they didn't say a word, a few had narrowed eyebrows. On the opposite side of the room, at the Gryffindor table, only the first years and the prefects noticed the girl. The young students, because she was a traitor, and the oldest ones, because their chance of keeping their prefects badges had just gone to zero.

She walked to the far end of the Slytherin table, where the group of first years always sat. 'The Pack' were in their usual seats, and Hermione took a few seconds to observe them. Longbottom, Greengrass and Davis didn't look any different than usual. If anything, they looked a bit more... happier than usual. Riddle, however, looked like a mess: his hair was tangled, his only visible eye looking half empty, and he was slowly munching on something that had yet to disappear in his throat.

A few seats away from them, the rest of the first year Slytherins were just talking among themselves, until one spotted her; they all immediately went silent soon after.

However, Hermione couldn't care less about any of them. She right away went to the four prodigies, and softly coughed to get their attention. Immediately, Greengrass, Longbottom and Davis immediately turned their heads to her, while Hadrian lazily glanced her way. The group's smirks didn't disappear, but it turned a bit colder, their eyes hardening, not that she didn't expect it.

"Granger," Greengrass started, analysing the newcomer. "Traded your old Gryffindor robes, it seems." she added.

"I did. I think green looks better on me," she replied, knowing trading wits with the Slytherins would surely get their attention.

And it did. Daphne's eyes softened by a very small margin, and her smirk slightly grew thinner. Something that looked like a really soft laugh crossed Tracey's mouth, while she couldn't see Neville's expression, but by how his shoulder slightly dropped, she had gotten a positive reaction. Hadrian, however, because of his completely groggy state, had not moved an inch, and was still looking at her by the corner of his right eye with his, usually shining, now dead-like orb.

"I just wanted to thank you all for rescuing me," Hermione continued. "I wanted to do it a lot earlier, but truth to be told, I really didn't manage to find the courage to do so."

By now, most of the table was trying to listen, and those who couldn't hear got the words exchanged by the other house members.

"You don't need to thank any of us. And if you really insist on doing so, thank the girls, they are the reason we helped," Neville said, not without a tinge of amusement. "I'm pretty sure there was no envy of saving you in Hadrian running toward the troll." he finished.

The other boy looked at him defiantly, lazily raising an eyebrow, while Neville just chuckled.

A quiet silence then started. But it was already going better than Harmione thought: at least the group was somewhat accepting of her, as she had seen how they treated people they really wanted to drive away.

Now, the worst part…

"I can't believe the hat sorted a mudblood into Slytherin. He must have a grudge against you."

Draco Malfoy looked at her with obvious disgust. It was as if her sole existence bothered him, and by the way he put his breakfast away, as if it prevented him from eating.

Hermione felt one of her hands clench. She couldn't respond, and everybody knew it: if she did, it was the end of her premature stay in Slytherin. But if she didn't, there was no chance of ever being accepted.

She decided talking back was the best scenario.

"There's more risk in being in Slytherin than being in Gryffindor? If so, I guess there must be someone who's worse than Potter to create such a mess."

And Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously at the implication.

"You should be careful, mudblood. You don't know what could happen to you here." he said.

But another voice interrupted them.

"It is far too early for you both to bicker."

Hadrian looked at them lazily, his only eye switching from one to another in boredom. He had not given up on letting the thing he was munching on disappear, and it only increased the effect of laziness around him. He finally swallowed, before looking at Draco from the corner of his eye.

"You both have no manners, no elegance, and no education. But at least, she seems to have talent, something that you have yet to show."

And he hungrily bit another piece of bread, going back to his previous state: munching for minutes on something, while looking into the void.

Draco looked like he was about to respond, but he never did, much to the surprise of anyone.

Hermione knew Hadrian defending her was a big deal, but she had yet to find the reasons everything had shifted so quickly.

A first year boy got up, smiling at her. He slowly approached her, leaning closely enough so nobody else could hear them.

"I think you'd better come with me, there are a few things you must know in this house." he stopped, looking at the way she held her belly. "And you should take something to eat before we go, you look like you're starving."

The girl nodded, grabbing not less than three apples and some bread, under the amused eye of the boy.

Together, they left the Great hall, under the supervision of the rest of the Slytherin house, McGonagall, who smiled softly, and Dumbledore.


"Well, you sure made a big impact for a muggleborn girl." the boy started, as soon as they were a few metres away behind the Great door. Hermione frowned, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"Muggleborn girl? Is that all that matters?"

"Don't look at me like that, or you'll soon find Malfoy wasn't far away from the truth at all. You are not welcome here," the boy continued, a smile still on his face.

Hermione felt something build up in her stomach. Was she already going to face her first repercussions for wanting a better future? The boy seemed to notice her fears, and put both his hands above his shoulder, mimicking a sign of surrender, while he continued to walk.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I was merely warning you. I've asked you to follow me to make sure you wouldn't make such errors in front of the rest of the house. Oh, and my name is Theodore Nott, not that it matters much."

He smiled brightly, looking at her.

"You don't know the gravity of what just happened. If you were surprised Riddle defended you, then you don't know to what extent it is indeed important," He continued.

Hermione's confused eyes silently asked for answers, and he nodded.

"You may have already noticed it, but most of the house is, how could you say it? Racist, toward muggleborns. I know it, I am too." he said while laughing.

Hermione felt lost. How could this boy completely assume they were more or less racists, in front of one of the very people he was targeting? At that moment, she wanted to know, and said the first word that went through her mind.

"Why?" she asked.

Theodore looked at her curiously, and she continued.

"Why are you all racists?" she added.

Nott looked into the void, taking a deep breath, before answering her questions.

"Some have their own reasons. You could say some dislike muggles and muggleborns out of sheer stupidity, some dislike them because they believe them to steal their power, or any nonsense like that. But most don't like people like you because you bring changes."

Seeing she was about to speak, he put a hand up, mimicking her to let him continue.

"Yes, you could say that sometimes, changes are for the best. But for several decades now, muggleborns just brought changes that were inappropriate. The magical community is small: There are probably less wizards in the entire world than in a big muggle capital. All of those changes aren't fit for us."

He smiled softly.

"Vehicules, most inventions using electricity, all of those aren't necessary. But the thing we dislike the most is a change in our traditions. Muggleborns are trying to change things that were in place for thousands of years, like wizards' courting process, our manners, our architecture and our system: everything that gives a deep soul to our community, the very thing that kept us together even during hard times."

He looked at the ceiling, while his pace went slower, now that they were far away from the hall.

"Magic is what makes us different. If we just become muggles with magic, what's the point? Our morals, honour, lineage and history: everything would crumble for changes that we don't need."

He smiled again, stopping against a wall, closing his eyes.

"Our world is so different. Magical creatures, traditions, spells, everything. We just don't want to lose those. And most of the time, those muggleborns that try to change everything don't even care about our history: they just want things to look like in the world they were born in."

He looked at Hermione, who now seemed to be lost in her thoughts.

"We know people aren't bad by nature. The magical community would be dead if there were no muggleborns. But we just want to preserve our world. Maybe you'll understand, maybe you never will. Everything is up to you."

Hermione stopped, looking at the strange boy that asked her to follow him. She could see his point, but there was one thing that was left to be cleared.

"I see what you mean, but there are changes that should be just accepted: equality between men and women, for example."

"I think we are a lot fairer than muggles are on that point." Theodore said while laughing. She looked at him strangely, but he just nodded.

"Nobody cares about the sex. All that matters is the means. There won't be a single person in the 'dark', except a few idiots, but those are everywhere, that will say that men are just superior to women without adding any criteria. Look at Greengrass, or Davis: nobody has ever said they were inferior because they were women. Plus, when the magical world suffers bigotry, it usually goes in both ways anyway. Yes, only men can be head of their Houses, but the Lady is just as powerful."

Hermione still wasn't convinced, but the boy didn't think she would be, anyway. This is not why he had asked her to come.

"And before you say that ancestors matter too much…" he continued, "yes, they do. Everyone has a right to be proud of his past. But you can be an absolute no-name, and still become someone important in this world. As much as my family despises her, Lily Evans became an important person because she had the capacity to be one. That's all."

The brown-haired girl just shrugged.

She still wasn't convinced, and she doubted she ever would be completely, or at the very least before she could see it with her very eyes.

"What's the point of all of this?" she asked seriously.

"That was just a sort of introduction, what I want to tell you is completely different," Theodore continued. He started to walk again, but this time, it felt like he was trying to hide something.

"Riddle was completely right: you have no manners, and no education in our world. In Slytherin, that's like asking for you to be bullied. But he was also right when he said you have talent."

He fully turned to her, this time with a more serious expression.

"You can become an important member of this house if you want to, but you need the means. And that's what I can provide you. The right knowledge, the right comportment, everything you need."

The girl felt an emotion she had never felt before. This felt unreal. The very same morning, she was wondering if she was going to be an outcast for being a muggleborn, and now, a boy that had admitted he disliked people like her was offering help.

"Why?" she asked for the second time now. However, this time, Theodore didn't need any other words to comprehend what she asked.

"Because you can. If Riddle, probably the most racist of us all, sees the same potential I see in you, then you'll have an influence in Slytherin before you can even notice it," He paused, looking for the right words. "I won't lie, I have my own goals in Slytherin. But I like mental stimulation, and a mind like yours can be a great asset to both our house, and our world."

The bushy-haired girl felt like crying.

Nobody knew, but the girl had never been really popular. She liked books, and never felt like a part of a group. This boy, right there, one that she didn't know, and that she should have hated for his views on the world, was offering her help because he saw something in her.

The past Hermione would have declined. But she was going to be a new person, and if she had to be a part of the magical world, then she would see first if she could join it.

"And what do I need to know, then?" she asked, resolved. Theodore smiled brightly.

"Good. First thing you need to know, we don't really call people by their first name, or at least not in the higher circles of our community. Draco has to be referred to as Malfoy, Hadrian as Riddle, and anyone else in the same way, unless they give you permission to call them by their first name. It's basic, but if you don't respect that rule, you're already onto a bad start."

"Seems easy enough," she muttered. He acted as if he didn't hear her, but he continued, still with a smile on his face.

"Now, standart manners. First thing first, unless you have been asked for it, you don't insist on speaking. Which extends to classrooms: unless the teacher doesn't ask for you to respond, you don't interfere."

"But if you know the answer…" she started.

"You stay quiet and you wait. Teachers usually pick the students they know have the answers anyway, so it won't change much. But at least, you won't look like an impatient know-it-all," Theodore interrupted. "In the few lessons you share with Riddle, I can say without a doubt he never raised his hand, while you always did. You both probably answered the same numbers of questions, but while you both look like know-it-alls, people don't bother him about it."

She could see the point in his words. But she had always been taught to raise her hand if she wanted to answer a question, so it was going to be hard at first.

"Is it just to purely look good?" she interjected. "I don't see why you wouldn't ask for your participation other than for that reason."

"Exactly. In our house, you want to impose yourself without pushing it. Showing you know everything won't matter in the end, because as soon as everyone sees you don't know something, they're going to abuse it. It can go from a simple everyday thing to some information you would be better knowing."

"I see." she finished.

"Oh, we've arrived," Theodore suddenly said, pointing to the door at the end of the corridor.

It was the potion classroom. But, if she had looked at her timetable right, then they wouldn't have needed to come this fast. She looked at the other boy by the corner of her eyes, who just nodded, knowing she'd ask him.

"You need to see Professor Snape. He's our Head of House, after all."

He knocked on the door, and it opened on its own, as they could see the Potion Master was looking in their direction, his wand in hand.

"Enter." he just said, analysing the two students. He had obviously not missed the green robes the girl wore, and his eyes narrowed. "Explain." he added. Hermione clutcher her hands nervously, but Theodore put a hand on her shoulder.

"Try not to show when under pressure," he simply stated. She nodded, composed herself, and looked right into the eyes of the teacher, who, if she didn't think him so cold, would have said he was smirking.

"As I didn't fit in Gryffindor, the hat sorted me again to a house that suited me better," she answered, the man nodding.

"Then it is good to see you are being initiated. You can take your seats," He finished, turning to the blackboard behind him, continuing to work on the instructions of today's lesson. "If you need help with anything, ask one of your fellow housemates."

Theodore and Hermione both went to the first row of the classroom. Or, Theodore did, Hermione just followed.

"You can sit next to me," he told her, as if he didn't care.

"Aren't you already with another partner in potion?" she asked.

"Yes, with Blaise Zabini. But he'll be fine on his own," he answered. She nodded slightly, before sitting on the same bench.

"Now, let's get over the Slytherin house in itself. You'll see soon enough how it works, but a head-up shouldn't hurt. The entire house usually converges around the same student, or at the very least the same group of students. He is, or they are, always older than us, often between fifth to seventh year." He continued on with his story.

"Like a sort of king?" she added.

"Merlin, no, we may be in an arriered society but we don't have kings. It's more like the student you don't want to piss off, because as Slytherin students almost always come from ambitious backgrounds, it would cost you dearly to have a problem with the student that is going to end at the top of the food chain as soon as he leaves the school." he said with a soft laugh.

"I guess… And who is that student?" Hermione had a pretty good idea of who it was.

"Marcus Flint, fifth year. He's actually not a bad bloke, and he already has a mudblood for company, so your status won't bother him." he said, still smiling. This wasn't what she expected at all.

"I would have thought it was Riddle, with how he just parades around."

Theodore laughed again.

"Almost. He, without a doubt, is going to be the next Slytherin King, as you put it. But he can be as powerful as he wants, he's a first year student. Plus, he may be the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin: His name is Riddle. He has no title of nobility whatsoever. And, if it wasn't enough, he doesn't care at all about the rest of the house." he complemented.

"Then how can he act so haughty? Logically, the rest of the house should have also tried to put an end to his arrogance." she added.

"Power, Granger. It's one of the few things I can explain that won't make sense to you until you feel it."

Hermione immediately thought about the troll incident. she thought about how he had released such a huge amount of magic, it had corrupted the corridor they were in and the bathroom before she could even understand what was happening.

"That sort of aura he can release?" she softly murmured. Theodore looked at her in surprise, before nodding just as softly as she had said it.

"Exactly, though I am curious about how you know it."

"The troll."

"Ah, right, he was injured. He must have been pissed."

She nodded, and that sealed the topic about the boy.

"Anyway, what you have to remember is not to anger the wrong person. Draco is meaningless, but don't make such an error with Flint." he finished. "The other Slytherins should come in soon enough."

And as soon as he said that, voices could be heard from the end of the corridor they had come from.

Hermione recognised them instantly.

"I"m telling you, the answer can't be a Chizpurfle. They don't even have wings." Longbottom said.

"It's small, yellow, has wings but doesn't fly. It's the golden snitch." Riddle replied.

"What part of 'doesn't fly' do you have trouble accepting?" Greengrass told him.

"I won't accept any kind of criticism from someone who said a Golden Snidget. It literally is the same answer."

"It's a Chizpurfle." Davis continued.

Walking toward the classroom, Hermione figured, it didn't take long for them to cross the door, continuing to speak among themselves as they did so.

"You are supposed to be a genius, find the answer already." The blond girl said toward her brown-haired friend.

"I am trying, not my fault my dad's smarter than me! I don't have decades of experience." Riddle replied back with a haughty scowl.

"Both of you, stop. I'm not going to support your bickers all day long about a riddle." Longbottom interrupted, glaring at his two friends, both of them still locking their eyes like it was a matter of life or death.

They continued their conversation, but as their tone went softer when they sat, Hermione couldn't comprehend anymore what they were saying, but from the few words she could pick, they were still arguing about that riddle.

Riddle solving riddles. And apparently, if she managed to make something out of what she heard, Elder Riddle sent Younger Riddle a riddle.

'It's small, yellow, has wings but doesn't fly… A chick...?' She wondered, looking at the group from the corner of her eyes.

It seemed that the situation had evolved, and now Longbottom was arguing with Davis behind him, while Greengrass, with a feral grin, was mocking Riddle, who was pouting in his corner.

She heard Theodore chuckle next to her. Apparently, those kinds of situations weren't so uncommon.

Hermione decided to remain silent, as the class slowly but surely started to fill. Finally, Snape turned to the classroom, and students went quiet, waiting for his instructions.

"Today, we are having another attempt at the Forgetfulness Potion, as we couldn't finish last time because of an accident."

He glared at both Weasley and Malfoy, and from two different eyes. Truly, the man was probably as good as glaring as he was at making potions. Knowing he probably was one of the best in England, if not the best, it told a lot about the situation.

Even Malfoy shrunk in his seat. Granger could truly say she had not even seen him sit behind her, as nobody had bothered her. Maybe it was because of Nott, or because of Riddle, but she received no indication she was not welcome in the first rows, where the snakes usually sat.

"As you'll be now trying to produce one for the second time, I think everyone here knows the recipe by heart. And I will verify this shortly."

He looked around the class, his eyes roaming on every single head.

"Mister Weasley, if I remember correctly, we couldn't proceed with our potions because you managed, somehow, to burn every Valerian sprigs I had brought. Could you tell me why we desperately needed those?" He asked.

Hermione felt the urge to raise her hand. But as her arm already was mid-air, she decided not to, and just remained stiff in her seat, with the coldest face she could make.

It seemed like the teacher noticed it, and just acknowledged her with a nod.

The redhead in the back of the classroom, however, seemed focused not to answer. He was babbling, looking at his housemates, silently pleading for help. Hermione didn't turn her head to look at them, adopting the expression the rest of the slytherins were making: fix Snape.

From the corner of her left eye, she could see Theodore looking straight ahead, but not without a smile, as he listened to the poor attempt of the Gryffindor student at finding an answer from his peers.

From the corner of her right eye, she could see Longbottom and Greengrass sit upright, cold faces on display. Davis was leaning on her fingers, with a look of utter boredom. Riddle was reading something that looked nothing like a Potion manual, his head maintained by both of his hands, not even trying to hide the fact that he was not listening a single bit.

"Weasley, I can't hear anything from where I am, so please speak up." Snape continued.

"For the colour?" he tried slowly, every word menacing to crack.

"You will learn, Weasley, that unlike in transfigurations, we don't care much about the colour of the final product. Unless it's not the one we're waiting for, then we care very much." he replied. "As you were not able to give me an answer, and your housemates were apparently not able either to provide you with any help, I expect the entire house of the Braves to give me an 18 inches long text about the potion, its history, how it is done, and why we use those ingredients."

Hermione heard the growls from the back of the classroom. She blushed slightly, knowing she would have been the first to do so.

"I do hope my snakes are better than that, or I'd lose faith in all of you. Let's try with our new resident, Miss Granger… Could you answer the question your previous classmates didn't?"

She took a deep breath, getting her stress under control. She knew the Gryffindors were looking at her.

"Valerian is known for its ability to put people to sleep, and to fight against spasms." she replied slowly, trying to keep her voice straight.

"Correct, though we prefer to call those sedative and antispasmodic properties. Please write it down," he said to the rest of the classroom, "..and as I feel something keen to pity for you, Lions, losing the only students that won you points in the past few months, you shall escape any point loss. Five points to Slytherin."

He then walked around his desk, showing the blackboard Hermione remembered him writing one when she entered the class.

"Good thing I anticipated the poor memory of some of our dear students here. The instructions are on the board, you may begin."

Hermione turned to Theodore, who did the same.

"So, do you know how to choose ingredients?" he asked. The girl nodded, and he smirked. "Good. Go get them, I'll prepare the cauldron."

She got up, noticing that she was the first to do so, along with Davis.

Or at least, she thought she was the first. Then she noticed how Longbottom was already coming back with everything he needed, while it seemed Riddle was already done with preparing the cauldron.

'Just focus, Hermione. Don't bother.'

She took everything she needed, and came back to her desk, where Nott was waiting for her. He looked briefly over her choices of ingredients, nodding.

"Good. You add the ingredients, I'll stir and note the timers," he replied.

She briefly agreed, taking the first item she needed.

"Two drops of Lethe River water… In," she stated, quickly taking the bottle back, as a third drop menaced to go down. Nott took one of the few matches that resided in a box, and started a fire. He waited for it to be somewhat hot, before putting the cauldron on.

After barely twenty seconds, he stopped the fire, humming to himself. Hermione immediately continued.

"Two Valerian sprigs… In."

With a wooden spatula, the other boy stirred the potion three times, clockwise. He then rolled his sleeves up, took his hand, and waved at the cauldron. When its colour changed, he smiled, putting the craft of wood back in his pocket. He looked at the clock, and noted the hour.

"We're going to have to let it brew for a good fifty minutes," he stated.

Snape seemed to appear next to them. He looked in the cauldron, with an approving glance toward the student. He then walked away, promptly going to the far end of the classroom, where he knew he'd encounter troubles.

Hermione looked around her. The other Slytherins were on their way to finishing the first step of their potion, with Malfoy and a girl she remembered as Parkinson being close to being done.

Riddle and Longbottom, like Greengrass and Davis, were already done, and seemed to be working on the riddle they had yet to solve. The teacher didn't even bother checking on their potions.

In the back of the classroom, however, students had barely started. Finnigan and Thomas even had the time to start, and fail, and as Professor Snape towered over them with a severe expression, it had not gone well.

"It's the problem with potions that take several steps to be done. When you're decent at the subject, then you have nothing to do." Theodore said, a book in hands, as he eyed Hermione. She nodded: usually, she would have to look after her other classmates, who all asked her for help.

It didn't stop them from ignoring her after, of course.

"Last guess: it's a hoo-hoo."

"They fly."

"Fuck."

Hermione looked toward the group of prodigies that had yet to find the answer to their problem. They looked depressed, Longbottom taking deep breaths, Greengrass glaring at Davis, who was glaring at the ceiling. Hadrian had put his head in his arms, as if he was going to sleep.

This was one of the gestures she thought someone like Weasley would do, but she didn't expect the Slytherin Heir to be so… Mundane. And knowing he was surrounded by purebloods all day, she wondered just what kind of liberties power could allow.

Now that she thought about it, while everyone talked about him, he probably was the student of 'The Pack' that had the least influence.

Yes, he was a direct Heir of Slytherin. But Riddle was in no way a pureblood family. His family was unknown: she didn't even know if his parents had decent jobs. She wasn't even sure he had enough money to be considered wealthy in this world.

But Longbottom and Greengrass were two of the most ancient families existing in Magical Britain, and both students were certified purebloods. Though there was no Davis Lord or Lady as of now, it wasn't that far behind. She could find records on all of those.

But Riddle? This sounded just as muggleborn as Granger.

And she decided she was going to give them her answer. She knew how to respond if they had any questions for her.

She got up, not making a sound, and silently walked to the front of their desk. Once in front of them, she just waited, knowing they would address her once they decided they wanted to know what she had to say.

It worked, obviously, after a dozen seconds, Longbottom stared down at her.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly. She waited a few seconds, before taking a deep breath.

"A chick."

There were a few seconds of silents, before she heard Hadrian growl.

"Bastard." he said. From his tone of words, she could easily deduce it was exasperation, and not directed at her.

"Hadrian, language." Daphne said, though she just looked perplexed at Hermione's answer.

Hadrian got his head up from between his arms, stretched, and looked straight at Hermione with his only eye. They just stared at each other, as she didn't speak, and remained still, while the blue-eyed boy analysed her.

"Why?" he asked.

"Depends on what your question is directed at. 'Why is it a chick', well, it fits the description. 'Why do I help you', I certainly could, after how you saved me from the troll. And finally, 'Why do I know', let's just say you could maybe be a little more discreet."

There were more seconds of silence, as Hadrian just remained frozen. Then, he smirked.

"You're a better fit to Slytherin than to Gryffindor." he simply stated. The girl tried to repress down a blush, something she failed miserably, as his smirk just widened. "I now owe you a debt, though I don't think your help was that necessary."

"Consider it part of my payment for rescuing me, then." she said with a small smile. The dark brown-haired boy nodded in what seemed like acknowledgement, as he accepted her words.

"Very well."

A somewhat silence occurred, as Hadrian just stared down at her without any kind of embarrassment, analysing the bushy-haired girl, much to her embarrassment, under the amused eye of Davis and the mid-glare from Greengrass. Longbottom took a small box out of one of his pockets, one Granger immediately recognized.

"Game?" he asked his friends, who all nodded.

"The werewolf?" Hermione asked curiously. Longbottom nodded.

"Indeed. Do you know that game? I picked it up during our trip in the muggle world." he answered. Deciding not to care about the glare the boy received from Hadrian, she continued.

"Of course, it's rather well-known in the muggle world. Though I am curious how you can play with only four players."

"We don't use special roles. We all are villagers, except one werewolf. It's fun, though it is becoming quite repetitive." Neville replied.

"You just don't know how to play." Hadrian started with a proud smirk.

"You can't lie to save your life." Greengrass said, glaring at him.

"Yet, I won five of the eight games I ended as a werewolf." he smiled innocently.

"You've killed me first eight times out of eight. That's why you won so many times." she said, with what Hermione would say was a pout.

"Still won," he grinned.

A grin was not what Hermione really thought would fit the boy's face. Yet, it seemed to suit him well, as confidence, or more or less arrogance, already was something he was more or less associated with.

Longbottom looked at her with the cold face every pureblood directed at her. Yet, she could see he was somehow curious, wondering what to do with her.

It was then that she understood he was wondering if he should invite her to play with them.

But Hermione had other things on her mind, as of right now. She wanted to think about a few things, notably the set of cards the boy yielded.

She silently returned to her seat, under the scrutinising eyes of the group, who wore different expressions, from questioning sights to smiles. Those looks also came from the rest of their Slytherin classmates, and of course anger from the Gryffindors. Unfortunately for them, they couldn't hate on the muggleborn student for too long, as Snape was quick to bash all of them for their potions.

Hermione sat back next to Theodore, who was looking at her with no small amount of surprise.

"You see, Nott, I think there are a few things that can be brought from the muggle world. I just had the proof, and I fully intend to show those." she told him with a smile, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

The other boy looked at her like she had grown a second head. Then, he grinned: a genuine, simple grin, before laughing to himself.

"Theodore, Granger." He said with a bright smile, his eyes whining with amusement.

She just never responded, making him laugh again. Apparently, Slytherin had earned another student that would change the wizarding world.

Theodore couldn't wait for the future.

And Draco Malfoy, from behind them, had just looked at the entire scene happening in front of him with a serious face.


"Are you kids ready?" Aroma asked the children in front of her.

Neville, Daphne and Tracey nodded.

The three of them wore clothes that were, obviously, suited for a ball. Neville was dressed in an elegant robe that was reserved to one of those very moments, and the two girls wore black dresses that they had apparently selected together.

"I still don't understand why you both put on the same robes." Neville told the two girls. Tracey smiled, while Daphne glared at him.

"Mind your business, Longbottom, we do whatever we want."

The boy sighed, not pushing further, as he knew from the corner of his eyes her frown was morphing into a smile.

Currently, the Greengrass family and the Longbottom family were standing in the same room, all dressed in formal clothes that were meant for one event: the Yule ball organised by the ministry. It was a purely political ball: people would trade gifts like favours, and initiate in all kinds of business.

This year, as they had finally gotten wands, Neville, Daphne and Tracey were invited to accompany their parents. Every pureblood brought their children: it was a way for them to see how it went, and as they were younger, usually just to have fun.

Hadrian wouldn't come. He was in France, with his father, and wasn't invited to the ball anyway. Not that Neville didn't believe his father couldn't get an invitation, if he truly wanted one.

That was part of what he wanted to tell everyone in the room.

He looked at his parents, and then at the Greengrasses. All were waiting for him to say something, as he had specifically told them he wanted to talk to everyone before leaving.

"So, Neville?" Alice asked, looking at her son. By his troubled face, that had been that way for a few days, she knew what he wanted to say was important, at the very least in his eyes.

The boy took a deep breath, before nodding to himself.

"I wanted to say something about Hadrian, and I thought it would be easier if everyone was here. I think it's also best to say it now, because it could have consequences on the ball."

Frowns appeared from everywhere, and Cyrus started to speak.

"If you wanted to say something about your friend, then why didn't you wait for him to be with us?" he asked. He had an idea of what the boy wanted to say. He wouldn't have waited to be in front of the parents if it wasn't what he would describe as important.

"It would maybe be a better idea, but honestly, I'm scared of what he would say. After a few months, I can tell he doesn't lie. He deforms the truth at best, but what I want to say cannot be dodged in such a way." he marked a pause. "I'm scared he would just confirm everything without any kind of tact, like he always does."

"What's the problem, Neville?" Frank finally asked.

The boy took a deep breath.

"His father is the Dark Lord Voldemort."

There was a silence that nobody wanted to break.

But to his surprise, nobody denied his words. Even more, there were no surprised faces. Daphne and Tracey were both staring at him, waiting for their parents' responses. He had told them what he thought before, and they had agreed with his points: Tracey had even made the supposition on her own a while ago.

"You seem surprised we know," Alice smiled. "But continue, give us your reasoning." She encouraged him.

"I mean, I don't think it's that hard to guess. He's a direct heir of Slytherin. Everybody knows the last one was Voldemort," he paused, this time looking at the parents with a more serious air. "Even if it's indirect, what put me on the way was how Dumbledore looks at him: as if he is waiting for Hadrian to do something. Yet, I am absolutely sure they never talked."

"Even more, we all know there is no such thing as the Riddle family in England. I've never heard of such a name, and they certainly don't hold any title of nobility. Yet, he clearly knows the Malfoys, who are well known for never talking to people that they don't think of as high class."

"Isn't Voldemort supposed to be dead?" Aroma asked him, with a raised eyebrow. Everyone could tell she didn't believe it either, but she was waiting for Neville to give her a believable response.

"A pile of ash isn't enough to tell the smartest and most powerful wizard in history is dead! I think Dumbledore tried to make it pass as such, to bid his political party some time and give assurance to his subordinates. Why Voldemort never appeared back after that event, I don't know, but I don't think he'd die because of wards."

There was a silence, before Frank nodded.

"You lack arguments, but your point is correct anyway." he said.

Neville blinked several times.

"You knew?"

"Neville, of course we know. We are first-class aurors, we even went against Death Eaters' reunions when the ministry asked us to crash the party. We may have never seen his face, but the way he walks and how his magic feels is more than enough to tell." Alice added. "Though you indeed miss a few arguments."

"But why would you not tell us then?" Daphne, this time, said. "Shouldn't you be scared that the son of the Dark Lord is a close friend of your children?"

"It's not that easy, Daph'." her mother said. "Firstly, because we don't think the Dark Lord has any intention of harming anyone that doesn't directly oppose him, and that since the very beginning."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Tracey interjected.

The parents looked at themselves, before Cyrus sighed.

"This is going to take a while, but let us begin. There are several points we need to resume before even wanting to scratch the subject: the first one is the etymology between Dark and Light, and their representation in our culture."

He got up, and started walking all around the room while talking, his robes flowing elegantly behind him.

"Firstly, why are the political parties of Magical Britain named as Dark, Grey, and Light." he looked at the children, who were listening with rapt attention. "The categories given to spells have deteriorated on the meaning of those words, so we need to put them back in their right context. Originally, there were only two parties: the Dark and Light one. The Grey only appeared later."

"The Dark party was created after the ambition of their precursors: stay in the dark. You all know how the magical world is hidden from muggles. They didn't want to merge with them, preferring to remain in their own category. The Light party, however, wanted to go and befriend muggles, and in such reveal our world to the light."

Neville closed his eyes, pondering the words. It surely made sense.

"Through the years, eventually, things escalated, and battles happened between those parties. That's when the Grey appeared: people that just didn't want to be part of the conflicts."

Cyrus looked at Frank, who nodded. As an auror, he was far more suited for the next part.

"Eventually, several decades, or hundreds of years later, more and more spells and magical means were created, and suddenly, wizards decided to put them into categories," he began. "Spells, objects, everything that could seriously harm a person, and was originally designed to do so, went into the dark category: the most famous are the three unforgivables."

"That's when Dark started to mean wrong, and in such, it obviously affected the Dark party. With the Light party coming into power, we thought we would reveal ourselves to muggles, but we never did: by that time, muggles hated everything that was different, and hated 'magic'. The Light party decided to keep the secrecy: they even were the party to put on the restrictive orders on anyone who breached the statute."

"You'd think the Dark party would be happy, as they got what they wanted. However, by now, they were associated with Dark curses, and in such were still shunned upon." Frank smiled sadly. "You can guess that they were not particularly happy. Another war, even more judgments were put on them."

"After that, and for hundreds of years now, the Dark party are the remaining members of the persons that were once put to shame because their name was associated with bad things. With the increasing numbers of muggleborns, that were obviously claimed by the Light party, and such continuing the perpetual cycle of bringing shame onto the other side."

"There's no party that is Dark or Light anymore. They are just two sides of the same coin. The Dark hates the Light because they shame them, and want to change what they consider essentia, and as such have morphed into their own community that dug deeper into dark magic. The Light hates the Dark, because they're different and stuck in the past, as well as for their opinions on spells."

There was silence, before Alice decided to continue.

"Now, as Aurors, we are entitled to the ministry. A direct order from them cannot be denied based on our political tendencies." she started. "But that political party in power is Light, so they use it to go against the Dark."

"What I am going to say may not be believable, but listen until the very end." she said.

"Voldemort and his followers weren't the one to initiate violence, as much as everyone tells they did. Before all of those battles, Voldemort was only the name of the person that organised political reunions. If you look into history, they are just the same as the political banquets that happened so long ago."

"However, you may have understood by now, but he was bringing old politics back into our society, making the distinction in Dark between dark in itself and evil. The ministry wasn't a fan of those reunions that were literally building a future other ministry, as per say. What scared them the most wasn't the political opinion in itself, but the fact that anyone could take part in it."

"They wore masks and robes that hid their voices and faces. Any muggleborn, pureblood, or opponent, could come in as long as Voldemort approved of you. And the ministry was scared some of them were among his followers, thinking about the internal revolution they could suffer."

Alice paused. She seemed to be thinking about something.

"The ministry got scared, and sent the Aurors, us, with the order to attack, and under the pretext that they were planning a rebellion."

Neville felt strange. He was learning, a few minutes before going to a ball, that the so-called villains of this story weren't especially the ones he was imagining.

"So… You executed." he said quietly, earning a nod from Frank.

"Exactly. They were not expecting us, and if I remember correctly, one or two of them died in the assault."

The man passed a hand through his hair, sighing in the process.

"That's where things really went wrong. The Death Eaters, as they started to call themselves, attacked a bunch of Muggles. It was meant as a warning: they could take lives just like the ministry did. And they didn't take any magical ones, they attacked what the Light wanted to protect before even wizard's lives: muggles."

"Things escalated, and a few days later, we were at war. Both sides got losses, and soon, there was no way back. We were back at a primitive conflict like the previous ones, any ideology forgotten in the process."

"You sound sorry you had to kill those Death Eaters." Tracey said with a soft tone. Frank looked away, before answering.

"I wasn't an outcast to their ideas. I find it saddening that a real potential in ideas went to waste, trading the long discussions about the roots of our world for a battlefield. Both sides did wrong, and now we suffer the consequences." the man finished.

"It still doesn't answer the question of why you never acted against Hadrian, when you knew perfectly who he was." Daphne said.

"Because Voldemort isn't dead, that much we can guess as Hadrian exists, and yet the battles never went further." Aroma said. "Why would the Death Eaters stop their act after a war that lasted for so long?"

Neville's eyes widened.

"He also realised it wasn't what he wished for."

"Exactly." Alice replied with a proud smile. "The Dark Lord ceased the tensions because he, too, wanted to get away from them. His death is the perfect excuse. It's a new start for everyone involved."

"But he still killed people. You should have tried, by your job, to capture him." Neville looked at his parents with narrowed eyes.

There was silence. And then Frank finally spoke.

"And so did I. I killed some of his followers. Does that mean his father should try to kill me? He very obviously knows who I am. He wore a mask, I didn't. And he doesn't stop you from speaking to his son does he?"

"And, Neville, would you have wanted me to try to turn in his father?"

Neville's mind went back to the few months in Hogwarts. Without a doubt, the best time of his life. Yet, he could leave Hadrian and just remain with Daphne and Tracey.

No. He lied. He couldn't.

The three of them had felt it. Without him, the group missed something.

His provocations. His arrogance. His help. His insults and more importantly, his words. All of those brought something to the conversations, another point of view, another person to laugh with.

He was the centre of them. The group would never hold forever without him. He was the one kid that the three of them could relate with: the brotherly attitude he shared with Neville, the partners in crime relation he did with Tracey, much to the chagrin of the other two, and the playful relation he entertained with Daphne.

He was a catalyst to all of them. They all loved each other, but if they lost him, nothing would be alike.

"It would still be the right thing to do." he muttered.

"What you suggest is, without a doubt, the way of our society. But is it what you wish for?" Alice softly said. He jumped in stupefaction.

Now, it made sense.

"You aren't a stranger to what he used to think." he stated, as if it was a fact.

"Oh, I am. I never really tagged along, but your father more or less did. It's your happiness I'm concerned with." She answered with a smile.

Daphne and Tracey looked at their parents, asking them the silent question.

"I was part of those who actually went to the first reunions," Aroma started. "I stopped siding with them after the first attack. Your father never really approved either."

"Indeed. They weren't scared even at that time of using dangerous curses, if it meant the society could profit from it. But I am more of a Pacifist." Cyrus just added.

The children processed everything that had been said.

It was hard, and the parents couldn't fault them. They were slowly learning that the world wasn't black and white, but an infinite version of shades.

"As we said, there are still some things you need to figure out by yourself about Hadrian." Alice said. "But for now, I think you should just enjoy what you have. Who knows what the future has in store for you?"

It was on those words that the families went to the ministry ball.

Neville never asked for more, and so did Daphne and Tracey. They just enjoyed the night, looking forward to the next time they would be all reunited in Hogwarts.

Where Hadrian, Neville, Daphne and Tracey would, again, stride down the long corridors of Hogwarts, the world around them forgotten to their inner group.


"Curiosity didn't kill the cat, it seems." Tom Riddle stated, a small smile on his lips, as he watched his son enter the room he was in, completely relaxed, and as slow as you could expect someone to be on a normal day.

But this wasn't supposed to be a normal day. This was Yule.

"Those presents aren't going to run away, are they?" Hadrian answered, scratching the back of his head without a care in the world.

"No, but there's a decent chance Gabrielle is going to open them for you." Tom simply added, taking a sip of the cup of tea that rested in his palm.

The bi-eyed boy turned his attention to where the owners of the house were, nodding to them in greeting when seeing their smiles.

"Hello." he simply stated, almost immediately grabbed by the arm by a hyperactive-looking blonde girl that wanted nothing but to kill him.

"I can't believe you took so long to wake up!" she said with venom dripping down her voice, not toward the boy, but his attitude. She pulled him through the entire room, the male teenager never doing anything to stop her. They finally arrived in front of the Christmas tree that could only cover so many presents, with another older blond-haired girl that glared at Hadrian with all her might.

"Finally!" she also said, her anger morphing almost immediately into excitement.

"You know, you could have opened yours without me." Hadrian simply said, receiving a tap on the shoulder from Gabrielle.

"Where's the fun in that?" she replied with a grin, sitting down as fast as she could. "So, predictions! What do you think you'll have?"

"Books." was the most simple answer both girls could hear. Yet, both grinned. They had obviously seen the love of their friend for knowledge during the time he spent there.

"Not expecting anything else?" Fleur asked.

"I'd probably change friends if I received anything else." he said as a matter of fact, earning laughs from the two girls.

"Then, if that's all, let's go!" Grabrielle ended, almost jumping on one of the boxes with her name on it.

The Riddles had been spending Hadrian's Yule break at the Delacours, a French family the youngest boy had learned were the family his father had been speaking 'Business' with. Bastien Delacour, the French minister, was actually a man Hadrian could respect. He had heard he was severe, but just with his people. At home, he was completely overruled by his wife and his daughters, much to the boy's amusement. Apolline Delacour could be truly scary when she wanted to be, not that he had ever been at the receiving end of her fake smiles that would turn anyone's legs into jelly.

His father had been, and the brief look of fear on his father's face now would probably have been the memory Hadrian would have used had he known the Patronus Spell.

Bastien and Apolline had two daughters: Fleur, and Gabrielle. Both looked like their mother, to a point they were like miniature versions of her, a similitude that was often passed from a Veela to her daughters. Because, apparently, Apolline was a Veela.

He had not been able to tell at first, because well, he had not thought a single time about how pretty she was, and had not felt any kind of attraction to her. Plus, that would have been strange anyway, since she was at the very least thirty years older.

Everything had happened during the first dinner he had taken a part in. He hadn't really spoken, nor had he listened to anything the adults had said. As he had arrived in the morning, he had been a lot more interested in scouting the family's library, something that had greatly amused the two Delacour parents. At dinner, too engrossed in his thoughts about the new things he had read, thinking about what he had actually understood, since his French was still lacking, he had not given a single second of attention to the rest of the table.

And they had tried to get his attention. Many, many times. But the absent boy, who was always munching on something in a rhythmic way, had never answered, or even shown any sign he had heard anything. And apparently, the Delacour females had tried to get his attention with allure.

Of course, it did not work.

And so, Tom had been forced to use the last resort to get his son's attention.

A good old tickling spell under his arm.

Hadrian had almost jumped out of his seat, taken his wand in a second, and had pointed it to his father, his narrowed right eye dangerously menacing the miserable creature that had gotten him out of his thoughts. Then, he had noticed that all the adults were grinning, and that the two girls of his age were looking at him in a dumbfounded way. Realising how he now was the centre of attention of the table, he had answered their silent questions he didn't know of in the most elegant way.

"Huh?" he had let out, before continuing munching on whatever was in his mouth.

All the adults at the table had laughed, including Bellatrix, who apparently, was there, since he had not seen her, while the two girls had gawked at him.

This was the very first boy that was completely immune to their allure. The very first boy they could befriend.

He was an utter fool if he thought he could just get away from them.

The next day, the two girls had tried to get him out of his bedroom, but it never worked. They even went as far as to try to kidnap him when he tried to go to the bathroom, but the boy had managed to slip away by jumping out of the window.

But for the day after that, they had a meticulous plan that just couldn't fail.

The bigger the plan was, the better it would work.

The two girls attached a long and thin string to a book freshly collected out of their library, and put it just a few metres away from Hadrian's door. When he finally opened, completely groggy after barely waking up, the boy went slowly toward the book. He had already finished what he had taken the evening before, and needed something new to entertain him. However, when the precious object started to move further away as he approached it, the blue-eyed boy knew there was a single option.

He was groggy, and not thinking straight:

This book would come with him, no matter its choice.

And so, he ran after the coveted item as fast as he could, silently thanking for the first time his friends and their crazy idea of running outside every week. He almost jumped down the stairs, running in the living room that, unknown to him, contained his doom.

As he passed the door, finally seeing the end of the tunnel, he got immediately tackled to the ground by two very happy girls.

Tom could honestly say he had never laughed so much in his entire life. Bella could probably agree on that.

Once trapped with the two girls, Hadrian had realised that they were not so bad, and pretty much like with Neville, Tracey and Daphne, by the next day they were what the boy could call 'friends'. There was a long way to go before being trusted, but they could coexist, which was already something to him. Plus, apparently, he and his father were going to spend a lot of vacations in France, so at least the worst was done.

He looked at the different names his gifts wore.

Neville, Tracey, Daphne, Theodore, Hermione, as well as the two Delacour girls and one from the french parents. Nothing that surprised him in the slightest. His friends had rather insisted, while the adults he was comfortable with knew perfectly he didn't care in the slightest about gifts. His father had something he wanted to give him, and had waited for Christmas, but it wouldn't have changed anything in the end. And a few minutes later, he was the very happy new owner of seven new books.

He had not bought anything for Theodore and Hermione. Truth to be told, they weren't his friends, even if they interacted a bit with the group.

He looked around himself, noticing that the two girls were happily looking at what they obtained.

He got up, not waiting for them to finish. They would soon get his gifts, that he hadn't bought by himself anyway, as he had dragged Bellatrix into a French town and asked her to find what girls liked.

He bought them jewellery and left.

His father looked at him.

"Waiting for my gift?" he asked, amused. The boy nodded, knowing the man would give him the object no matter what. He suspected it was more for his father himself than for him. "Then, we're going to have to go to Gringotts."

"Gringotts?" the boy asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. You are going to get the rings that will prove you are an heir to various families." he stated.

"There's no use doing so." Hadrian started to speak.

"Yes, there is. Firsty, because you're in school, and your ancestry matters more than you think it does. You're still a first year, so the other students of your age are still too shy to act, but once you grow up, some will want to show the rest of the promotion they are better than you. Having marks of nobility on your hands will definitely change things. And secondly, there are some protections and other features on the rings. That's for my liking."

Hadrian didn't look pleased, but nodded.

"Should we go now?" the man asked, putting the cup down. "Remember, we are invited to the French ministry's party tonight. Since it's already nine…"

"It's far too early." the boy muttered.

"...the sooner we do this, the better it is."

They departed soon after. Fortunately, as the Delacours were one of the most important families of France, they could directly use the international floo that was only used for special people, or occasions.

Nobody questioned who the man and the kid were, when they appeared in Britain through the diplomatic floo.

"Incompetent morons." Hadrian muttered.

"It's good to see Hogwarts hasn't changed you. You're still unable to be happy." Tom told his son with a serene smile.

"I won't accept that criticism coming from you." he replied with a glare at the man.

"You don't accept criticism at all anyway."

They soon arrived at Gringotts, entering the bank without a care in the world. Two goblins that guarded the entry looked at them suspiciously, knowing immediately by their gestures and the aura around them that those weren't the regular clients.

The two Riddles didn't care about the other people walking into the bank at that time. They went straight to the end of the hall, knowing that was where the Head Goblin usually sat, observing the clients that always came in.

As they made their straight line to where the globin was, he started to narrow his eyes, observing the two approaching people.

He knew every person that walked in. He remembered their faces, their habits, and even the exact steps they took inside the bank.

And he immediately recognised who was walking straight to him.

He got down from the high pedestal he was sitting on, having to walk down several stairs behind to finally reach the ground. Then, he eyed the two people that were walking to him.

"Follow me," He said, already leaving. Tom kept his smile, thanking in his head how more competent goblins were to wizards.

"You know him?" Hadrian asked.

"No, I don't," Tom replied, answering the stupid question with a stupid response, knowing very well his son was glaring at him. "I hope you are ready for what is waiting for us. As we go down the bank, I will explain a few more things that you should know."

"Fine." the boy grumbled, glaring at every living creature he encountered, who gladly returned his glare. Tom didn't bother stopping him. The goblins knew very well they shouldn't mess with him. Plus, he had not tried to soothe down the boy's ego for years, why would he now? It was his son, he could do whatever he wanted.

They stopped in front of a small jar, where the Head Goblin handed the man a small knife, beautifully carved into gold, with many precious stones directly inserted into the weapon.

Well, it obviously wasn't really a weapon. Nobody would go to war with it. This was like begging to be killed, no man wouldn't try to steal such a valuable object.

"Please do." the goblin only said, Tom nodding. Carefully, he made a small cut on the tip of his finger, letting a single drop of blood fall into the jar. It flared in recognition, while Hadrian had absolutely no idea what was going on. The goblin, however, nodded, before pointing with his chin at him.

"Do the same." Tom told his son, handing him the knife. The boy didn't bother speaking: he just did, and the jar flared in the exact same way it had done with the Dark Lord.

"Very well. Let's continue." the goblin said, taking the knife back, putting in on a small stone that rested next to the jar. He left, and the two Riddles continued to follow him, down a now rocky path that barely was lit.

"What happened?" the student asked.

"What you just did was a blood test. They verified we weren't some impostors." Tom answered.

"Why would we need this?"

"Because you don't know how many people tried to get access to the Slytherin Vaults without being an heir of the family. I'm the best person to say so: I was the last one before you."

The goblin continued to walk down the rocky path, before entering a minecart that held barely enough space for all of them. Tom followed him without being asked to get in. Hadrian looked at him with curiosity, before the man pointed to the seat next to him. He followed, shrugging.

Immediately, the cart started to go down at high speed, the goblin manoeuvring it around obstacles that were obviously meant to kill the people in the cart.

"You don't look scared!" Tom yelled to his son, as he could clearly see the grin on the boy's face as their lives, each time, were menaced by a pillar or an obstacle.

"I'm not, this is awesome!" He yelled back.

The air sliding down his face as he knew he was always inches away from meeting Charon before crossing the Styx made him feel alive. The danger, the risk of losing everything, as they spiralled down the black hole that rendered them almost blind to their environment made him feel new kinds of sensations he had never experienced.

His magic extended with the cart all around him, reflecting on the walls, giving him a brief view of what was around him, but it was too fast for him to comprehend everything. His brilliant mind flashed with the reconstruction of the tunnel his magic could provide him, his instincts bathing in uncertainty.

He laughed. Openly.

One of the true amused laughs he could let out.

And his father laughed with him. Their magic extended together, one in another, merging into something greater than nature itself had given them. With every obstacle that promised them death, they laughed, the goblin dodging the rocks.

At one point, they were in a sort of gigantic cavity, with bits of lights around the place, showing the faces of a few goblins that looked so folded on themselves they wondered how their bones were not broken in their shaft.

They even saw a dragon, chained by the neck to a surelevated platform, who was eyeing the cavern with its golden eyes, its light green scales and long pointed horns shining with the dire light of torches goblins in armours wore in front of it.

"What is that one!" Hadrian yelled to his father, who was also inspecting the creature with his vibrant blue eyes.

"Portuguese Long-Snout!" the goblin responded in the man's place.

"But they were never mentioned in books!"

"Extinct species! We have the last ones!"

And Hadrian marvelled at everything that surrounded him. The speed of the cart, the buzzing questions that fused through his brain at every parcel of the environment he absorbed, it made it all feel so perfect.

But the cart didn't stop. It dove straight for the ground, going through an opening they had not even seen because of the lack of luminosity.

Hadrian's hands were white, as he clenched the cart as hard as he could with the little force he had. Had his magic not been so strong, his body would never have held long enough. He grinned, as the cart started to literally spin around, the tunnel going down in a spiral. Finally it started to slow down, the metal holding the cart screeching as it lost the speed it dived at.

Soon, it stopped on a rocky platform that Hadrian could tell had been mined specially for the place. The goblin got out of the cart, as he snapped his fingers, several torches lighting up around the cave.

Hadrian soon also left, stretching his muscles that were screaming in pain. His magic had forced on his arms, and he knew he would feel it for a few days, even with a pain relieving potion and an invigoration draught.

"Thank you. That was brilliant." he told the goblin, grinning. While he finished stretching, he looked around himself, as he finally had time to properly observe his surroundings. The torches barely offered any light, but he could see several doors that were obviously very old, with short numbers on their front. They were almost encrusted in the rocks, and from what he could see, there was no way of getting back to the surface, as the rail stopped there.

The goblin smirked at the boy, who was already looking elsewhere.

He liked those wizards that held great power and cognitive capacities that would put what was considered brilliant to shame. He had heard no scream of terror from the boy, no fear in his magic: just great excitement at putting his life on the line, all of that in the cart of a person he never met and never talked with.

They had taste.

"Follow me." he said shortly, leading the way to one of the doors.

The two Riddles followed him swiftly with serene smiles on their faces.

"How did you find it?" Tom asked.

"Amazing. Would have been even better without you." he said with a grin. Tom let a bark of laughter escape him.

"Hogwarts has not taught you how to lie yet," he replied. "But I am saddened you enjoyed an activity only a Gryffindor could take part in."

"What can I say? Every house suited me."

They stopped in front of the door that was labelled 005, and the goblin showed a small stone on the wall that looked translucid.

"Hands on the stone." he instructed, observing the wizards who did as asked. The stone seemed to light up from the inside, as if green fireflies sprouted from the inside of the rock and were slowly filling it.

The door slowly opened while screeching, the carved wood suffering from the lack of use after so long, and the goblin nodded in acknowledgement.

"I will wait for you here." he simply finished, standing next to the door, and not intending to move until the clients were done.

Darkness enveloped the two wizards.