The summer had been uneventful and excruciatingly hot, up until now. Currently it was pouring outside, and my body was tense with a cold sweat glistening on the surface of my skin.

Tom Riddle was supposed to arrive on my doorstep at 12 Grimmauld Place any minute now, as we had agreed at the end of second year. He was to stay in one of the guest rooms of our ancestral home and spend the last weeks of the holiday with us. These were the facts I played over and over again in my head as I paced around my room.

I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was exactly that made me so anxious. Maybe the fact that in our family, we didn't have the habit of bringing any friends home, especially if they were to stay for a few weeks. In fact, me and my siblings had very little social interactions outside the family before Hogwarts.

Or maybe it was the fact that Tom Riddle was the opposite of the high-maintenance pure-blood society's ideal member. It was only about a year ago when my parents were still openly suspicious of him, and even though they supposedly believe he's the heir of Salazar Slytherin, they don't know anything about him as a person. I could only cross my fingers and hope they won't interrogate him too much.

The doorbell rang downstairs and my mother, Melania Black, appeared in the doorway of my room. She was a sophisticated, lean woman, whose fair hair had been tied up into an elegant hairdo. Lucretia resembled her greatly, much more than I at least.

"Your friend is here, dear", she said and gestured me to follow after her. I sprinted past her and stomped down the stairs before anyone else could open the door.

"Elara, slow down immediately!" she ordered, but I ignored her. I reached the door and hurled it open.

"Tom!" I huffed. "Come in."

Moving aside I let him step into our lengthy and obnoxiously narrow entrance hall. My mother had come downstairs to the other end of the hallway, glaring at us with an unreadable expression.

"Tom, this is my mother. Mother, this is Tom", I said and begged for this extremely awkward moment to end soon.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Black", said Tom politely. Mother gave a little nod and continued toward the stairs to the kitchen.

"Come on, I'll show you where your room is", I said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him upstairs. There was time for a house tour later.

"Sorry about my mother, she's not too talkative with strangers", I explained after I had shut the door behind us. Tom looked around and settled his trunk on the bed.

"It's fine, I understand", he muttered. "Is this room for me alone?"

"Yes, it's one of our guestrooms, so it's yours. My room is on the opposite of this one."

"One of your guestrooms?" he gasped.

"Well, yeah... It's a big house", I muttered. "My family has lived in it for centuries. But I'll leave you to unpack, dinner is in fifteen minutes or so, meet you in the hallway!"

"Oh, you have arrived! How wonderful...", jeered Lucretia at Tom while entering the dining room where the rest of the family was already gathered. Tom merely glared at her, holding back his response in front of my parents.

"Lucretia, behave yourself!" ordered my dad who sat in his usual seat at the end of the table, then turned his attention to Tom. "Please ignore her. It's a pleasure to meet you, and I wish to welcome you to our house."

"Thank you, sir", replied Tom. My father nodded at him and immersed himself back into the newspaper he was browsing. Orion, who sat opposite of Tom, had been unusually calm and was discreetly glancing at Tom from time to time. He was to enter Hogwarts this September and hadn't been able to shut up about it this whole summer.

An awkward silence fell over the room, disturbed only by the silent rustling of our house elf, Kreacher, who was carrying several trays of food to the table. Dinner with my family was a rather rigid experience on a regular day, but the presence of someone outside of the family seemed to fade even the last remains of casualty in this house.

"So, Tom", said mother coolly after Kreacher had scurried back to the kitchen in the basement. "My daughters have told me about your special ability to speak to snakes."

"Oh no", I let out under my breath. I should've known she'd bring the subject up at some point. While it's true that Lucretia and I had told our parents that Tom was a parseltongue, I had hoped they'd let it go because it would only lead to questions about his heritage. Despite Tom's frenetic search we had barely any knowledge of his relatives. It worried me because the way my parents would treat a person was based entirely on their family and status.

"It's true, Mrs. Black", replied Tom. "I have also been told that it's not the most common ability in the wizarding community."

"It certainly isn't", said mother. "Which leads me to wonder where on earth has a thirteen-year-old child received such a rare talent, as there hasn't been a single known parseltongue for centuries."

Tom glared at her curiously across the table. "Unfortunately it's as big of a mystery to me than it is to you, ma'am", he replied.

Mother raised her eyebrows slightly and pursed her lips into a forced smile. "Well, I suppose your mysterious gift, if it even exists, just came out of nowhere, then?"

"Mother!" I huffed, but she merely discarded me with a flick of her hand. Lucretia was clearly enjoying the situation; there was an impish grin on her face while father and Orion pretended not to be listening.

"I apologise, Mrs. Black, but I don't know anything about my family history", said Tom calmly. "But I truly am a parseltongue. Just see."

He fixed his gaze on the floor to focus and let out those same harsh sounds as he did in the Slytherin common room that one night.

A deafening silence fell over the room again. Even my father had resurfaced from behind the newspaper. Everyone except Lucretia looked astounded.

"Do you believe him now?" I asked, staring at my mother. Instead of her previous judgement, she was now glaring Tom with open curiosity.

"It seems I might have been too quick to judge", she replied. "It's not every day you have dinner with strange young boys who possess such uncommon gifts, after all."

After the dinner was over, I could sense that my parents attitude towards Tom changed immediately. They didn't treat him like someone who's inferior to them anymore, but rather with a kind of quiet respect.

Before nightfall, I was showing him around the house. 12 Grimmauld Place was a complex building, hidden between two muggle houses and it had six floors in total. It was passed from a father to son for countless generations, but it was fair to say that with only three children the house often felt hollow and excessively spacious.

It was quite clear that Tom had never seen anything like our house before. He had told me in a letter once about the tiny room in the orphanage where he had spent most of his life, trapped inside of those isolating walls. Every time he spoke about his life in the orphanage his voice was tinted with bitterness, which hauntingly echoed in my ears during our tour.

The last room I showed him was the large drawing room. It was probably the most expensive room in this house with all of its antique artifacts and family heirlooms. On one of the walls hung an enormous tapestry depicting the Black family tree.

Out of all the fascinating things in the room, Tom paused to inspect the family tree. It consisted of pictures of all past and present Black family members, except for a few burnt spots. Above it was the family crest and the motto Tojours Pur.

"Always pure", I said, referring to the motto. "Kind of corny, isn't it?"

"What happened to these people?" asked Tom, stroking one of the burnt spots.

"Oh... They were disowned by the family for varying reasons", I muttered and pointed toward one empty spot. "There was Marius, my father's cousin who is a squib. And there was Phineas, the son of Phineas Nigellus Black. He's a muggle activist or something... And there was his aunt, Isla, who married a muggle. Muggles don't really fit into this family, you see."

Tom stared at the tapestry pensively. "Does every pure-blood family have one of these?"

"Most families will likely have some kind of family recording", I replied. "Every member of the Black family has this exact tapestry in their homes. See, there are my cousins Walburga, Alphard and Cygnus. They're the only Blacks who are approximately the same age as us, but most pure-blood families are related in some way and many of their children currently attend Hogwarts as well. It shouldn't be too hard to find a branch that will lead to you."

"Do you think I could be related to one of these pure-blood families?" asked Tom.

"Well... I don't know anyone else called Riddle, but...", I muttered. I didn't have the heart to tell him there was no way that his father was a wizard. The name Riddle certainly wasn't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the last truly pure-blooded families, but it didn't seem to belong to any other wizarding family either. "Maybe your mother could have been a witch?"

"No. It's not her", replied Tom sternly.

"How can you be so sure?" I pressed. "We haven't been able to find any existing information about your father! If you want to find your family, you need to take a look into your mothers past! Or do you want to be stuck in that orphanage forever?"

Tom shot me a deadly glare, and I knew I'd crossed the line. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that!" I cried. "But why do you feel so strongly about your mother not being a witch?"

Tom sighed heavily and turned his gaze back to the tapestry. "She died in a muggle orphanage. Don't you think she would've gone to St Mungo's hospital if she was a witch?"

"I don't know", I replied. "But I think she's worth looking into."

Tom merely glanced the painting longingly. His gaze lingered on the branch where my family was located. There I was, in between of Lucretia and Orion, children of Arcturus and Melania Black.

"Come on, let's go upstairs", I said before the moment grew excessively depressing and took his hand in mine. He stared at our hands blankly but before he could let go I gently led him back upstairs to his room.

"It's getting late, we should probably go to sleep", I said. "Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight", he replied and shut the door behind him.

While getting ready for bed I couldn't stop wondering about Tom's mother and her past. Why was there no record of her anywhere and why did she chose to get help from a muggle orphanage? The only thing Tom knew was her name, Merope. Not being able to help made me feel useless and frustrated. There has to be a way, I thought before drifting to sleep.

The next day we were taken to Diagon Alley with Lucretia and Orion to purchase the next year's school supplies. Orion was jumping around gleefully while sulking Lucretia followed as our assigned babysitter.

"Well, here we are", she said as we emerged through the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm going to take Orion to Ollivanders and help him get all the necessities, so you two can go on your own. Let's meet here in an hour or something."

She then proceeded to drag the enthusiastically blabbering Orion into the busy crowd of witches and wizards.

"How long do you think it'll take before she loses Orion into the crowd?" I asked Tom, which made him snort. "Come on, let's go. I want to go to Flourish and Blotts first."

Since Tom had no known inheritances, he received the money for his supplies from the school's stipend fund. It was barely enough to afford the necessities, even if he got everything second-hand. I, on the other hand, had been given more than enough money for the both of us. I had offered to pay for his books as well so he could buy them brand-new, but he had sternly rejected the proposition. Instead, I had to watch him count his sickles while my pockets hung heavy with our family's galleons.

About an hour later, we had finished the shopping and were wandering along Diagon Alley, I caught a glimpse of fair hair in the middle of a group of girls. They were heading toward a shadowy alleyway, glaring around suspiciously.

"Tom, look! Isn't that Lucretia?" I exclaimed. Tom turned to look and raised his eyebrows.

"I think it is", he replied. "I guess she actually did lose your brother into the crowd."

"That's not funny, Tom! I can't believe she left him somewhere!"

"What are they doing anyway?"

"They seem to be going to Knockturn Alley", I said. "Come on, we have to go talk to her."

We followed Lucretia and her friend group to the dark alleyway, and instantly the atmosphere of our surroundings changed drastically. It became dimmer and gloomier, even the air felt cooler. Lucretia and her friends were weaving through the narrow alleys, dodging the dingy-looking people who wandered around the street. Soon enough, they entered a dodgy shop with the most peculiar artifacts displayed in the front window. A little sign hung above the door that said Borgin and Burkes.

Tom and I paused for a while in front of the door, then made an unspoken decision to follow my sister inside. I opened the door and found Lucretia and her entourage by a pack of bloody cards.

"Lucretia!" I hissed. "What are you doing here?"

She startled and turned around, looking a little guilty for getting caught in here. "Oh hello, Elara. Um... we're here because..."

"Ugh, whatever!" I huffed. "Where did you leave Orion?"

"Relax, he's with Beverly's little sister and her parents", she replied and nodded toward one of her friends. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Yes", I said and made her grimace at me.

"Anyways, if you don't mind I'd like you to get out of my face before I-"

Lucretia's sentence was interrupted by a shady man who emerged from the shadows at the back of the shop. He appeared rather polished, yet he radiated unreliability. He glared at us contemptuously.

"What are you children doing in my shop?" he demanded to know.

"Um... We were just...", muttered Lucretia's friend Beverly.

"Save your words, little girl, and get out of here! Kids like you have no business in- Hey, get your hands off of that, boy!"

Without no-one noticing, Tom had spotted a glamorous golden locket and taken it out of its shelf to inspect it. The locket had a serpentine 'S' engraved on the surface with emerald stones. The shop owner took one contemptuous glance at Tom's worn out robes and rushed to grab it from his hand.

"That is the locket of Salazar Slytherin and extremely valuable!" he spat. "You could never afford it!"

Lucretia and I exchanged meaningful glances while something flashed in Tom's eyes.

"Where did you get it?" he demanded.

"Bought it off of a dowdy young woman 'bout ten years ago... Or was it closer to fifteen...", the shop owner said. "She was pregnant and penniless, so I wouldn't be surprised if she'd stolen it... But that's really not your business, is it? Go, get out of here!"

We hastily rushed out of the shop and back to Diagon Alley to catch our breath near Gringotts bank. Lucretia's friends quickly went their own ways, leaving just the three of us.

"Lucretia, what on earth were you thinking, going in there?" I shouted.

"It wasn't my idea! Beverly said her father brought home some fascinating items from Borgin and Burkes! We wanted to see for ourselves."

"You're unbelievable", I sighed.

"Hey, you two followed us!" replied Lucretia defensively. "And thanks to snake boy over here, we got kicked out!"

"You heard what he said!" said Tom. "That locket belonged to Slytherin! You know what that could mean, don't you?"

"He's right, Lucretia", I said. "If Tom is related to Slytherin, that woman could've been his mother!"

"Yeah, or she could've stolen it because she was desperate for money!" Lucretia spat. "Whatever, I'm going to pick up Orion so you two better meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes!"

We watched her sprint into the crowd as I leaned against the gleaming white stone wall of Gringotts. The stone felt cool against my back, soothing me after the swift escape.

"Do you really believe that was her?" asked Tom.

"Well, the timing is right...", I replied. "And where could've she stolen a locket like that? You can't just accidentally steal Salazar Slytherin's locket."

"It still doesn't make sense! If she was a witch, she would've known how valuable the locket was. She wouldn't have sold it into that dingy shack."

"I don't know, sounds to me like she didn't have a choice."

Tom pensively stared at the families streaming in and out through the ornamental doors of Gringotts. He didn't seem to know how to react to this sudden revelation about his past, if it even had anything to do with him in the first place. But however persistently he claimed otherwise, I knew that our visit to that mysterious shop had made him rethink which one of his parents was the magical one, after all.