*POV switch*

My leg tapped against the stone floors, the fire flickered shadows on the parchment in my hand. The cursive writing was clean and smoothly written in black ink, and looked like no other writing I have seen from anyone familiar enough to know that name.

That name that I could only speak allowed in secret. The name was burned from the family tree. The name of my beloved mother. A mother who was hidden from the London born Pureblood.

It has been over ten years since she died-no-since she was murdered. Ten years since I have seen that name on a piece of paper. I can feel my chest getting tight as the anxiety got worse.

Ten years since I saw her convulsing on the dining room floor while my father peacefully ate. Ten years since I saw her olive skin turn purple. Ten years since I have heard the sound of her gasping for air as my father twirled a glass of firewhiskey around: the ice swishing around the amber liquid against the crystal glassware.

It was like I was back in that moment, reliving it. All because of a letter with her name on it.

My beloved mother.

I could feel my eyes swelling with tears, and that control I struggled to gain all these years slowly slipping away, because of a damn letter.

A large hand clasped my shoulder and I had to keep myself from flinching: I am at Hogwarts, I am not at the manor.

"Theo-are you okay?"

I look up and into the steel silver eyes of one of my oldest friends, and without giving an answer I just hang my head and hold out the letter.

His hand never left my shoulder and he reached for the letter. I can feel him grip tighten, and I know he is at the part that has shaken me to my very core.

"We need to discuss this-but not here."

He gets me to my feet and guides me towards the boys dorm room: rooms I have shared with him and Blaise for years now. It is our safe haven from unwanted ears listening in on conversations they have no right to.

Like a ghost, I move to my bed and lay down and stare at the ceiling. The glow of the Black Lake was reflecting against the stone, which was easing my mind.

"Theo, besides myself and Blaise, who else in London knows that name?"

I sigh and press the palms of my hands into my forehead, "My father-he made sure when his contract was fulfilled with my mother that no and I quote, no foreign pig name will be uttered in this household- like I swear, even your mother knew her as Evelynn." I bite back any emotion I could and I struggle to say, " Evelynn Nott is what is written on her grave. Chiara Nott is not someone that anyone would know besides my father, myself, and both you and Blaise."

I felt the mattress dip, and I look over and I see one of my best friends hunched over on the edge, bent forward and fingers locked behind his neck; everything about him seems just as rigid as I am.

"If that name really has no London connections, what are you going to do Theo?"

I sit up and mimic his posture, "I think I owe it to my mother to look into this don't you think? What if I have family out there? Or what if this is someone who can help put my father away for her murder?"

"But what if it's someone who is using your love for her against you-there is nothing in this letter except from initials that I have never seen before and a cryptic message. What if this opens a door that should never be opened?"

"What if I keep it closed and something happens that I will never be able to open this door if I wanted to? You saw our fathers this summer-if what they believe is happening, what if this is my last chance to do something for myself?"

I heard him sigh, and I felt his hand on my knee, "Then we open this door together. You are not going alone. We will write this person back, and keep every letter and we will try and solve this before we are strung along."

I felt him push off my leg, and I heard him pull a chair back, " Come sit, we have a letter to send."

Quill in hand, and an intimidating parchment at the ready, I swallowed hard as I made the first brush stroke of ink to paper.

H.J.G,

The fact you know that name, means you know more than you should.

If this indeed about that woman, you will find that I am relentless for the truth regarding her. She was, and is the most important person in my life.

I will stress to you now, to tread lightly, because I will not let any sort of hearsay go unpunished.

If this topic really is something you know about, think twice.

Signed,

Theo Nott

Heir to the Nott Family

*POV switch*

A response. It was more than I thought I would get, but it was a lot more telling then I think he intended it to be.

Tucking it into a locked journal, I quickly finish with breakfast. If I hurry I might have time to see Professor Snape before class and see if I could request some one on one time with him.

This whole correspondence is weighing on my mind, but I cannot let it consume my every thought and actions.

Last night catching up with my boys, I noticed a couple concerning ticks from Harry.

The circles under his eyes have gotten darkend, and his face seems sunken in from the last time I saw him. He flinches every time a shadow moves in the corner of his eye, and his fingers twitch as if they want to reach for a wand at every sound. Whatever he saw that day has haunted him, and for it to have an effect of this magnitude this long after the fact-that day had to have been traumatic.

I have to be a pillar for Harry; he needs me more now than ever before. With the Prophet and our fellow classmates discredit and slander him, he will not be able to cope.

Last year he was thrown into a tournament he had no desire to be a part of, and he was cast as some sort of teenage egomanaic. His closest friend abandoned him because of the fame. He watched as his life and the life of his friends all hung in the balance, And he watched as his competitor, his upperclassmen, his friend, Cedric: he watched as he was murdered before his very eyes.

I leave as everyone is still chatting over their breakfast, I make sure to promise to save a seat in class for at least one of the two and I hurry out towards the door.

I stop as I feel the hair on my arms stand on edge and a cold chill run down my spine. There is that feeling again. I adjust my bag and turn to look inward towards the great hall, and my eyes lock on who I believe is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Her pink ensemble, and a very tight, almost strained smile: we lock eyes, and I can almost feel her hatred rolling off of her from across the room.

I straighten my posture, and point my chin up high as I turn on my heel: I will not submit to her gaze. Closing my eyes I walk forward, not paying attention, just making sure that that pink thing knows I am not someone who will bend to her.

I knocked shoulders with someone, and it was just enough to rattle my false pretense that I mutter a quick apology and scamper off; hoping that if there was a God, he made sure SHE wasn't looking at that embarrassing display.

I need to resolve my personal issue as soon as humanly possible, because that empty pit in my stomach is having me believe that this year is going to be one hell of a year: and it is only day one.

End Chapter Two.