We continue to be entirely unsuccessful in our efforts to find answers, and yet time doesn't stand still. Night turns into day, days become weeks, and eventually the grey winter gives way to a much too sunny spring.

Hades and I both lament the change of seasons, in equal fatalism at that. Each year he loses Persephone until she has to return to the underworld and drag summer down with her. And I for my part, I'm simply no child of the sun.

Autumn and winter, with all their rain, foggy, cold and gloomy skies, suit me much more than birdsong and meadows full of colour. But then again, why should Hades mourn the passing of time all by himself?

"Did you bring me flowers?"

Harper approaches me with two books tucked under her arm, pointing at the herbs next to my reading to mime mock-surprise.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" I pick up the fifth book of the afternoon with a smirk, and I already suspect that it will be completely in vain again as well.

"Indeed they are," she confirms, grabbing more literature herself. "Knotweed … Who did you steal it from?"

"Slughorn. All that's missing now is boomslang skin."

"Would come in handy before the next full moon …"

"The third week of April, right before Easter, I know," I sigh. "I'd really like to claim I can't do magic – but that'd be a bold-faced lie … Still, I'm at a loss as to where we could find any."

She waves it off. "The Polyjuice Potion has no priority. In our main endeavours, however, I see we have now become so desperate that we've arrived in the astronomy department of the library?"

"Maybe the Gaunts were interested in the stars," I groan.

"Could be. I found these two books on magical constructions."

I honestly doubt they'll be of any use, yet I nod. "By the way, did I mention," I say as casually as possible, "I sent a letter to Azkaban a few weeks ago."

"Must have slipped your mind," she murmurs, turning pages. "But pretty clever." She looks up. "A student with regular violent outbursts is quite likely to end up there eventually."

"Yet I doubt there'll be any response."

"It's worth a try, everything is," she says, just when Madam Pince approaches us like a cat on the stalking.

"I do share your enthusiasm for the written word," she claims after clearing her throat, "but not again – you two aren't going to spend the whole afternoon in here when the sun is finally shining outside! You've had your noses in books for weeks now, and frankly it's hard to watch."

"Don't worry about us," Harper is quick to reply, "we don't even want to –"

"Not a chance, Ms Sullivan, I have to push you both for your own sake – get out!" Madame Pince even puts her hands on her hips. "Take some books out into the world for all I care, but they won't be read in here today!"

"But why would we want to carry books to the Black Lake and back?" I protest.

"You either do that – or you don't get to read any books at all," she retorts. "What will it be, Mr Riddle?"

As was to be expected, it's unpleasantly humid and warm on the sun-reflecting shore of the Black Lake. Basically it's so bright that my eyeballs wish to burn out of their sockets with every waking glance, but here we are …

"You really are nightshades," Elliott chuckles, shaking his head. "You hate it here, right? I can tell. But how's that possible? The lake is so beautiful!"

He and Leonora laugh to themselves as they lie in the meadow hand in hand. Insufferably happy.

I, in contrast, find it highly uncomfortable to sit upright beside them to look through one of the books we were forced to bring with us. Harper is also lying in the meadow, despite reading obsessively next to me, too.

"This is precisely why I hate it here," I soon mumble, trying to shoo insects away from me in vain.

"Bees are your friends!"

"If you really think that, Elliott, I don't ever wish to speak to you again …"

"Tom!" Leonora pouts in amusement. "What is it with you? It's a beautiful day and we're all enjoying a fine life!"

"For Hufflepuff, every day is a fine day, since you profoundly refuse to face any kind of reality."

"Don't listen to him, Leo," Elliott giggles, "he's not in his natural habitat, the dusty library. That's why he turns into a poisonous snake."

"You really are enjoying all of this, aren't you?" I ask them both, bitterness radiating from my every syllable. "Burning sun all around, pesky flies everywhere, grass stains in our clothes –"

"Oh, look – who do we happen to have here?" we suddenly hear Avery exclaim as he's walking alongside the shore with Nott, Mulciber and Lestrange. "Elliott Bryant with Ray Greene's Hufflepuff sister!"

He doesn't even dare comment on Harper and me. He knows exactly why – we all do.

"There's nothing to see here, folks," Elliott shouts, "get out of my sight!"

"We're not going anywhere!" Avery winks. "After all, this is the most beautiful spot on the whole lake shore!"

"It is," Lestrange agrees. "Are we perhaps disturbing you, Ell?"

"You're disturbing me." Without looking up from my book, I know I make them gulp. "Hence I'd strongly advise you to practice silence," I order, "or carry on with your renitent innuendos elsewhere."

Avery seems a bit disappointed in the fun coming to an end, nonetheless he knows what's good for him and nods. He's just about to continue on with Lestrange, Nott and Mulciber when a Ravenclaw – what was his bloody name again? – with friends from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff walk up to us coughing up some wild courage.

"Riddle, you feel no shame whatsoever in ordering your own house around like that, do you? Harper, how can you sit next to someone like him so calmly?"

"Oh, Dean," Harper all but sighs, "don't mess with me. Don't mess with him …"

"You think I'm afraid of Riddle?" he asks.

"You'd better be," Avery clarifies, unusually stern, his voice sounding gruff – to the great surprise of his supposed hero. "Mind your own business, Hornby."

I can't help but smile.
He's gotten himself into the middle of a snake pit and has no idea how tightly we can choke and stick together.

"But I'm on your side!" Dean Hornby – that was the name, brother to Olive Hornby who loves to mock Myrtle, yet who could judge that – seems outraged.

"You're not supposed to be on our side," Lestrange now also adds. "Slytherin stands firm. We don't need Ravens to help us get along all nicely."

"But don't you even notice it?" Hornby shakes his head in bewilderment. "How can you let him talk to you like that?"

"Slytherin has been succeeding with an occasionally harsh tone for centuries", Lestrange proceeds to enlighten him, "clear structure creates space for utmost ambition."

Mulciber nods. "We've also been winning the House Cup for years, and half the points we've scored are thanks to Tom's bright mind."

"What an advantage." Hornby raises an eyebrow, and I can't even blame him. That last argument stands to nothing indeed, but we can't expect too much of Mulciber. Still I certainly appreciate those well-intentioned attempts, all while Hornby frowns. "You hardly believe these words yourself, do you? Riddle needs to be put in his –"

"I'll put you in your place – he's Slytherin's pride," Avery lets his voice cut across his. "We all owe him better grades and working spells. Dippet would do anything for him, and we fully back him – so go save yourself or someone else."

Elliott already sinks back into the meadow with a huge grin on his face. Mulciber's smile is inane, Nott is still scared due to our conversation the other day, but Lestrange and Avery glance at me as though they finally wanted approval.

"What are you waiting for?" I therefore ask Hornby as he just won't get out of my sun. "You've heard them. No one wants your saving. Fly away, go for a swim, do whatever helps you cope with not being needed …"

"Be loyal to him then, you'll see where it takes you," he hisses, obviously disgusted with Avery and Lestrange. And already on his way again, he just can't help but shout to Harper, "I would've expected more backbone from you, Sullivan, you are an outright disgrace to our house!"

Just as I'm about to finally and thoroughly teach him some manners, a blue glow from Harper's wand startles him. Her Patronus, the ever so familiar red bobcat, defends her with gentle firmness — pushing Dean and his friends away much more peacefully than I would ever have.

Turning to Avery and Lestrange, I praise, "I had no idea you have such argumentative skills. Chapeau, gentlemen."

They refrain from any sarcasm and instead just nod with discipline, then they move on further along the shore as well.

"That was outright scary." Leonora tilts her head as skeptical as she can. "Why are they so obedient?"

Elliott promptly asks the counter question. "Weren't you listening?"

"I was," she claims, "but there's more to it than that, isn't there?"

"Slytherin just sticks together," he says.

"Though I'll admit," I add, "that sometimes, stupidity hurts …"

Elliott chuckles. "That's put quite nicely, yes."

"You can't complain about pain, can you?"

"You've been through too much with me and the mice for that," he laughs on, "but some others indeed have to be unforgivably reminded now and then."

"Excuse me, come again?" Leonora moans. "How can you even think such a thing?"

"Do or die, a bit dramatic though, I'll give you that," Elliott admits. It's just too pleasant to have him speak some sense for a change. "I don't know how hierarchy is handled in your houses, but in Slytherin, it has to be perfectly clear who's in charge."

I turn my book's page as though we're still having a conversation about bees.

"I'm … lost for words, I'm shocked, Ell!" Leonora whispers, all red and upset. "How can you be so cold-hearted?"

"Sweetheart, it has nothing to do with cold-heartedness," he counters unusually firmly. "Hufflepuff is surely like a warm living room full of friends, and in the Raven's tower I'd gather everyone quietly shares big thoughts and ideas, but in Slytherin end up too many born leaders. There's plenty of cunning ambition and we bite, so there has to be a sense of structure."

"Which you have provided," Leonora adds, crossing her arms over her chest.

"In a way," I confirm. "But for instance – your beloved brother knows his boundaries now once and for all. Or has he pulled out your hair in entitled sorrow ever since?"

"None of that," she admits. "No harsh pulling me along his way, too."

"See? Sometimes, people just need a little correction."

"He still doesn't talk to me," she sighs nevertheless. "Not until I break up with Elliott."

"You couldn't break up unless you were …" I pause. "You're a couple?" I give them an incredulous glance.

Elliott blinks in surprise, then nods. "What else would we be?"

"What are you two?" Leonora asks, equally undecided.

"Confidants," Harper mumbles without looking up from her book, "accomplices, soulmates. Two sides of the coin … All of that."

I surprise myself by nodding in absolute agreement, and Leonora surely realises that she can't expect any other kitschy platitudes from us.

"Let them call it that, then," Elliott chortles softly to her, but so be it.

Why define everything? Why limit yourself and possibly only inflate it to something labeled as universally valid?

Confidants.
Accomplices.
Soulmates.
Two sides of the coin.
Nox and Dies – night and day.

Yes, we are all of these things, and probably more.

"And we are," Harper soon whispers again, so that only I can hear her, "Slytherin's pride, and Ravenclaw's disgrace …"

"Don't even bother," I quietly reply, lifting her chin. "Don't listen to that, you've built bridges. Fate knows what they're good for. Dean Hornby, on the other hand … doesn't even know how to tie a tie."

She bites her lip, nodding. "We all don't take ties that seriously …"

"I can tell."

And after that, heavenly silence arises, we read on and on and I manage to ignore even the bees.

That is, until Harper calls out my name and sits up, pointing at her book in excitement. "There! Found something!"

"What have they been doing for the last couple of weeks, anyway?" Leonora whispers to Elliott.

He just shrugs. "Being secretive. I don't even ask anymore when I see that glimpse of madness in his eyes …"

The two laugh, they kiss and make me sick, yet I read the lines Harper's finger points me to – and suddenly I'd like to kiss her mind as well.

There it is, black on white.

Corvinus Gaunt …

"Magical constructions," I repeat the title of the book, almost irritated by the fact that she found something in there. "Harper, I was all wrong the other day – your speculations are brilliantly substantial. I wouldn't even have picked that book up."

"Four eyes see more than two. Here, read on."

She hands me the book with the beginning of a certain chapter open.

Famous constructions
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

By integrating some Muggle amenities into the magical world, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry underwent extensive remodelling and installation work in the mid-18th century to integrate an all-encompassing pipe system throughout the castle.

Interesting details worth knowing:

Shortly before the new system was completed, two of the construction workers disappeared without a trace – their whereabouts could never be clarified. (As reported by the Daily Prophet.)

The school accommodated workers in the castle for months. Especially the good service of the kitchen and Butterbeer from Hogsmeade gave them strength and cheerful courage day after day.

Countless house-elves took on the construction work in particularly narrow spots. Protective clothing was specially made for that purpose and each elf was honoured with an award of gratitude.

Corvinus Gaunt, student of Slytherin House at the time, formed a committee in Muggle Studies, not only to support the construction work with academic expertise, but also to provide further helping hands after the disappearance of the two workers. The committee's support was very welcome, resulting in the group installing the faucets and sinks in the girls' lavatory on the second floor of the school building.

It's like a shot in the dark.

I don't hear a serpent in the walls.
I didn't hear a voice from nowhere in Harper's immediate vicinity in the girls' lavatory on the second floor.
I hear a voice from the pipes …

"Interesting, isn't it?" Harper asks, beaming. And I could eat her alive – if I hadn't just been given information that will be considerably more complex than it appears at first glance. "Plumply put," she takes the floor again, "he was interested in plumbing …"

I appreciate twists on words, but it's all so macabre in its overall context. I've never heard the basilisk louder than in the girls' lavatory on the second floor …

Two workers disappeared without a trace?
So that a member of the Gaunt family could help out in that bathroom?

Even if I believed in coincidence – it would be too many by now.

If Corvinus Gaunt knew about himself what I suspect about my origins, if he, too, heard a voice and possibly knew where it came from, wouldn't it be conceivable that he suddenly took a keen interest in Muggle Studies? Just to protect a legacy that should remain hidden from everyone else?

What if he didn't support the construction work, rather redirected it purposefully in the interests of the master of his house?

The tap …
There was no water running at the first sink I stood at.

It could be another ridiculous coincidence.
Or everything but that …

I swallow. The fog thickens and yet becomes clearer. What must not be, is. What no one thought possible has endured throughout the centuries.

I need to go back to that basin tonight …

"Wait a minute, wait – did I catch that?" Elliott asks, his curiosity awakened. "Who, pray tell, has taken an interest in plumbing? What a strange hobby …"

Harper is silent. She knows it's up to me to talk about it if I want to.

And whether Fortuna advises me to do so in a low whisper or whether it's once again a favourable coincidence, it turns out important that I say, "Strange indeed. Corvinus Gaunt, a student who helped build the pipe systems in the castle, apparently had his fun with it."

"Gaunt?" Elliott repeats, looking exceptionally thoughtful. "The name rings a bell …"

"Right?" I say. That was my first impulse as well, exactly when Harper had uttered the name in Dippet's office – but to this day, it's merely on the tip of my tongue.

Elliott, however, finally says it out loud.

"Gaunt, Gaunt … Oh, I know! As in House of Gaunt! A bloodline of the Sacred Twenty-Eight!"

"Oh!" Harper takes a deep breath. "Of course …"

Why didn't I think of that myself? Elliott hasn't even the faintest clue how helpful his verbalised consideration is.

"Of course – the Pure-Blood Directory," I say, staring at the lake.

Until I let my gaze wander to Nott.

What a coincidence to see him here …

Anxious Nott, who for years has flinched at the mere mention of the Directory and looked caught as though he had something to hide. Whose family I've long since accused of being responsible for the publication of the Directory.

Perfect. Just perfect.

"Where are you going?" Harper asks as I begin to walk towards the shore.

"I suddenly need to chat with Nott yet again."