During the summer Tom and I exchanged numerous letters with the help of our family owl, Mercury. He told me more about the orphanage he lived in, and how the muggles working there seemed to be slightly afraid of him for being a wizard. Of course, they didn't know exactly what he was or why he had been selected to attend Hogwarts, but they had a hunch that the weird things happening around Tom ever since he was a child had something to do with the school. This meant that they mainly let him do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't cause any trouble. Despite the freedom he had, it was exceedingly clear how miserable he felt while staying there.

I met Tom again on September 1st, 1939. He seemed relieved as the train began sluggishly gliding toward its destination, leaving the muggle world behind. During the second year we spent most of our time with each other, even though both of us had made a fair amount of acquaintances. Even though Tom didn't seem to have much interest in upholding a wide social circle, his unusual magical talents inspired awe from his peers and especially during Slugclub meetings he was often the center of attention.

The competition we had last year over our grades ceased to exist, instead we were now helping each other. Or to put it more accurately, Tom was helping me most of the time. It kind of bothered me that I still didn't know much about him or his past even though we had known each other for over a year. But all that changed in one evening.

We were finishing our homework assignment about the four finders of Hogwarts by the fireplace, when suddenly a curtain of blonde hair blocked my vision. It was Lucretia, who had leaned over the back of my chair to see what I was working on.

"Is that the best you can do?" she mocked and placed herself on the armrest of my chair. "That's average at best, you know."

"How would you know? You barely passed History of Magic last year!" I spat at her which only made her shrug.

"Anyways, everyone knows that the only founder who matters is Salazar Slytherin! Imagine how prestigious this school would be if the others would have listened to him", she sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if our family's bloodline would eventually lead up to him."

"Don't be stupid, we'd have parseltongues in our family if that was the case", I replied.

"What's a parseltongue?" asked Tom, who hadn't seemed to be listening until now.

"Someone who can speak to snakes", said Lucretia while ignorantly checking her nails. Tom fixed an intense gaze on her and slowly put his homework aside.

"I can do that", he whispered. Both me and my sister whipped our heads toward him in a surprised manner.

"You can speak to snakes?" asked Lucretia, her tone radiating disbelief.

"Yes. I can make them listen to me, and do what I say. They come to me and obey me", he answered. Then he let out a few harsh and strange sounds from his mouth. "That's how I speak to them."

Lucretia looked astonished. "That's... incredible", she whispered. "Salazar Slytherin was a known parseltongue, but it's a very uncommon ability. This could mean that you are directly related to him."

Tom stared at her intensely, it was clear that he desperately wanted to know more. He looked very pleased with himself for having such a rare gift, but at the same time didn't seem to have a clue what to do with it.

"Rumour has it that Slytherin built a secret chamber in the castle and hid some kind of creature in it that was supposed to purge the school of anyone unworthy to study magic", told Lucretia. "I bet it means purging the school of all of these mudbloods. After all, you can't expect someone who is basically half-muggle to understand the art of magic."

"How do you know all this?" asked Tom.

"Every old pure-blood family knows the legend", I replied. "It is also said that the chamber can only be opened by a true heir of Slytherin. Tom, that could be you!"

"Who are your parents?" inquired Lucretia. Tom shifted uncomfortably and lowered his gaze.

"I don't know", he mumbled. "I only know my mother died while giving birth and left me at that orphanage."

"Well, I suggest you find out everything you can about them", said Lucretia apologetically. It didn't escape me that Tom decided not to mention that the orphanage he lived in happened to be an orphanage for muggles. But if he really was the heir, why would he have to be ashamed of his past? Any proper pure-blood family would respect him simply for being related to Slytherin.

"Do you think Slughorn could help us with that?" I asked.

"No, I don't think it's wise to tell anyone in school about this", said Lucretia hastily. "If he is the heir and manages to open the chamber, everyone would know who did it. After all we don't know what's inside of it."

"Well, I'll help you find your family", I said. Tom glanced at me and gave me a slight smile but I could tell he was already deep in his thoughts.

After that encounter Tom became obsessed with his heritage and the chamber. He was aching to know more about his father who he believed was the wizard. We spent countless nights in the library searching for any sign of anyone named Riddle who might have attended the school.

"Are you sure it's your father?" I asked one night as we were once again drowning in lists of old students and ancient books about the schools most remarkable events. "What about your mother?"

"No, it couldn't have been her!" exclaimed Tom. "Why would she have left me in a muggle orphanage if she was a witch?"

I could see how distressed not finding any evidence of his family made him, so I dropped the subject. But I couldn't shake the instinctive feeling that a single Riddle had never set foot on the school grounds before Tom.

As the year passed by he gradually let go of his frantic search, but I knew he hadn't forgotten, just trying to figure out different ways to find answers. Instead of the Riddles, he shifted his focus to other known pure-blood families and their history, immersing himself into the lives of pure-blood society. One time I found him reading about the previous Headmasters of Hogwarts and noticed he paid extra attention to those who had belonged to the house of Slytherin.

"Was Phineas Nigellus Black related to you?" he had asked.

"Yeah, he was my great-grandfather. But unfortunately he died the year Lucretia was born so I never met him", I replied. "I don't think he had anything to do with Salazar Slytherin, though." He didn't answer or even seem to be listening, as he had already moved on to the next story.

Lucretia and I had made a decision to tell our parents about Tom. They had been as amazed by the fact that he was a parseltongue just as much as we had been but unfortunately couldn't tell any more about Slytherin's bloodline then we could. Because of that letter we sent, however, my parents became extremely fascinated by Tom and insisted that he had to visit us during summer. They no longer thought he was weird or suspicious, all it had taken to change that was a possible relation to an influential person.

To my relief Tom had put an end to his obsessive searching by the time of summer holiday. It had become quite exhausting to watch and I was glad to have my friend back. Unfortunately the end of the school year meant that he had to once again return to that orphanage, but we had agreed that he'd spend the last two weeks of the holiday in my house. Still, as we were saying our goodbyes at the King's Cross Station, I felt hollow and had to swallow the urge to ask him to come spend the whole summer with us. Despite being annoyed with his obsession with heritage over the past year, I still reminisce it with great tenderness. After all, it was one of the good years, before everything turned to chaos.