"Why is everybody reacting like that?" I asked the both of them as Pansy dragged me down the corridor. Pansy just scoffed.
"Shut your clueless mouth up until we can talk alone," she said stonily. I looked to Malfoy helplessly, and he only shook his head, a stormy frown gracing his face.
When we made it a few hallways down, Pansy dragged me into an empty classroom. Malfoy closed the door behind us. Despite my miffed expression, both of them seemed equally bent on interrogating me.
"You shouldn't be able to talk to snakes," Pansy hissed with a finger to my chest. "You're Muggle born."
"I—" at a loss for words, I shoved her hand away, irritated. "What does that have to do with anything? Can't lots of you talk to snakes?"
She laughed coldly. "No, you idiot. Only descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself can talk to snakes."
I stared at her in disbelief. "But I'm Muggle born—"
"Exactly!" Pansy huffed. "I can't even talk to snakes, and I'm in Slytherin. My family has been for generations. There's no reason a Mudblood, Gryffindor, pain like you should be able to speak Parseltongue."
"Snake language," Malfoy clarified. Pansy rounded on him, as if just realizing he was there.
"Who asked you to be here?" She scoffed. "The women are speaking."
This was not the reaction I'd been expecting. Usually Pansy was fawning over him, but she seemed bitter about something. Her scorn was intimidating, even when I wasn't on the receiving end.
Still, Malfoy did not falter, only scoffing back. "You whisked away the Heir of Slytherin without any explanation. Maybe I just wanted you to be safe."
This time, I scoffed. "Me? Heir of Slytherin? You can't be serious."
"Who else but the Heir of Slytherin can make a snake go limp at her words?" Malfoy snapped at me. "And to think you accused me. You lied to me, to all of us—"
"Oh can it. We both know it's not her." Pansy snapped, her voice becoming patronizing. "She wouldn't hurt a fly. She's so nice it's sickening, and she's a pushover."
"Hey!" I protested, but the look she gave me shut me up.
She continued to snap icily at Malfoy. "You're only here to express your undying love for her because now it's socially acceptable—"
"Enough!" Malfoy interrupted her, the tips of his ears going pink. "That is not what this is about and you know it!"
"Merlin," Pansy ignored him. "Maybe if you spent more study sessions studying than complaining about how much smarter she is than you—"
"Would you quit obsessing over everything I say—"
I zoned out as their arguing began to increase. Malfoy talked about me? Most likely to complain sure, but why wouldn't Pansy enjoy complaining about me too? Why was he so upset about my heritage? Shouldn't I be more upset? I felt like maybe I had more reason to freak out than they did. I came back to reality. This wasn't relevant right now.
I cleared my throat. "I think we've diverged from the important part of this."
Pansy snorted at me eyes still full of fire. "Oh, right, because you're always the most important one in the room. Sorry, I forgot."
I shut my mouth quickly, but Malfoy seemed happy to change the subject.
"So maybe you're not the Heir," Malfoy eyed me shrewdly. "But we don't know who it is, and neither does anyone else. Speaking Parseltongue just about proved to the student body that you're related to Slytherin."
"And that you lied about your heritage," Pansy was unimpressed. "Therefore you'd be the perfect suspect."
"But I wouldn't," I protested. "I didn't know I was related to Slytherin. I've been friends with Hermione since we met, everyone knows that. And Dean—"
"Yeah, yeah, we all know just how close you are with Thomas," Malfoy rolled his eyes at me. "I'm sure your little friends don't believe it either, but you'll find that hard to prove to the rest of the school."
I frowned.
"So nobody could understand me telling the snake to back off?" I asked.
"We heard you speaking Parseltongue," explained Pansy impatiently. "You could have been saying anything -- you damn near gave Finch-Fletchley a panic attack."
"How can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?" I asked. "And if I can only do it as one of Slytherin's descendants, then how—"
It hit me.
"My mom!" I exclaimed, then I faltered. "But McGonagall said she had no records here, and she never told my dad she was a witch—"
I cut off, noticing the nervous glance the two were exchanging. I wasn't the best with social cues, but I could feel it. The atmosphere of the room had shifted.
"What?" I raised an eyebrow.
"A lot of magical people will flee to the Muggle world to escape something they've done," Pansy said, tone uncomfortable. "She might have done something . . . well, bad, and went into hiding."
I didn't like the idea of that, and the two of them could tell. My own mother wouldn't. Not from what my dad had said about her, or my aunt or anyone else that knew her. But maybe even that was all a lie.
"Listen," Malfoy cleared his throat. "Maybe we should bring you back to Gryffindor. It wouldn't look good for you if you were caught with us—"
"It doesn't matter," I shook my head, standing. "It's too late for that. I'll just go up myself. I wouldn't want you two to bother." I looked at both of them grimly and tried to force my face into a smile. "Thanks for letting me know, I guess."
The result must have been off putting, because they both only nodded in reply. I glanced over my shoulder as I left, and the two of them were sharing a pensive look.
Instead of going to Gryffindor tower, I marched right to Dumbledore's office. He answered this time, though he was in his pajamas. I supposed it was quite late, but my head was too cluttered to care.
"I've been expecting you," he said. "Though perhaps not at this hour." Despite this, he opened the door and allowed me in.
"I'm sorry Professor, but it's very urgent." I walked in and let him close the door behind me. The office looked about the same as I'd remembered from last year, although a little more cluttered. I noticed his phoenix was molting — probably was due to rebirth soon. I took a seat in the chair facing his, and he spoke only once we'd both been seated.
"I suppose Dueling Club did not go as you'd expected?" He asked with some humor.
"Professor, I can talk to snakes." I said flatly. "This isn't normal for Muggle-borns, is it?"
"It is not." He conceded. He showed no surprise at my declaration. "Though I suppose you've discovered already that you aren't Muggle-born."
I frowned at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"There was a time and a place, and this was neither." He shook his head. "I was planning to tell you much later, when I thought you'd be ready to handle it."
It wasn't just unfair to me, it was unfair to my father too, who had been lied to the whole time my mother knew him. I scoffed. "If it's just a matter of me being related to Slytherin, I'm not sure why you'd feel the need to hide that."
"I'm afraid it's worse than that."
Dumbledore reached into a drawer behind his desk and pulled out a scroll. Unrolling it displayed a family tree. A few too many branches near the top crossed where they shouldn't have.
"The only known direct descendants to Salazar Slytherin were the Gaunts, an ancient wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence due to their habit of marrying their own cousins " He pointed to a rather ugly bunch at the bottom.
"Marvolo Gaunt, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts. While they used to have access to many riches, they're impulse and fondness of luxury led them to become poor. Merope ended up falling for the only son of a Muggle family that lives nearby, the Riddles—"
He pointed to a striking man near the bottom that hadn't come from the many other intertwining branches. His name rung a bell.
"Merope manipulated him into marrying her and then fostering children using a love potion," Dumbledore explained. "She released him before her children were born, hoping he'd fallen in love with her at that point, but of course he had not and fled back to his parents home. On December 31, Merope gave birth to twins and died after labor."
Dumbledore revealed the bottom of the scroll, which exposed two siblings that had clearly taken after their father in looks. I recognized the girl immediately, her name hovering above her head.
"Anne." I gasped.
"Anne, yes." Dumbledore again was not surprised that I recognized her. "I taught her myself. Miss Pendragon was a bright young woman quite like yourself, and a musical prodigy. She was the darling of her year, I'd say. Head Girl and a Prefect. Her parents wanted her to quit school to pursue a career in music, but she wanted to stay."
He looked to me, then. "Anne is your grandmother."
It suddenly clicked. That was why she had looked familiar when I first met her. She looked much like my own mother, even somewhat like myself. We shared the same angular face and nose, the same height and even the quizzical personality. Yet—
"I don't understand." I gestured to the end of the scroll. "The family tree ends there."
"And it does on every official document," Dumbledore stated. "Anne did not want anyone to know of her child, and so she had her daughter in secret and the Abbotts took her in as their own. Her name was Emilie."
I felt my jaw drop as Dumbledore pulled out a picture from one of the drawers in his desk. In it was a photograph of my mother at a much younger age. Despite the fact she looked sixteen in the picture, I could tell it was her.
Dumbledore offered it to me to hold, and I brushed my finger across her face as she laughed in black and white, smiling beside a young Lily and James Potter, alongside a few other boys I didn't recognize and a girl with curly, dark hair.
"I," I was at a loss for words. "Can I keep this?"
He nodded. "Of course. I've been saving it for you."
As I continued to look at the photo, he explained. "Emilie Abbott was a Gryffindor as well. Always up for experiments and trying new things. An inquisitive mind like your own — very studious. Prefect as well, though Head Girl went to Lily Potter."
"Harry and I's parents knew each other?" I was still staring at the picture. I wondered what it would have been like if they hadn't died. Harry and I might have grown up together.
"Quite well, actually. Emilie and Lily were known to be very good friends." Dumbledore's tone became grim. "But Emilie had to disappear shortly after she graduated from Hogwarts, erasing her records and telling no one of her whereabouts. Her friends were quite heartbroken by it, Lily especially."
I raised an eyebrow, feeling my heart pick up speed. "Why did she have to disappear?"
"The same reason Anne did."
I looked back to the tree, my eyes finally settling on the boy beside Anne. Tom. His dark hair was parted neatly to one side. He and Anne had the same features, but his looked stern and more hardened. More sinister, even. He looked almost just like his father, as well. Even sharing the same name.
"And who's this?"
It may have been the light, but Dumbledore's expression seemed to darken.
"This is Tom Riddle." He said. "Another exceptionally gifted student. A Slytherin. Unlike his sister he was admired by many but loved by none. He had a strong desire to be unique. He was named exactly like his father, and he never liked that, so he changed it in adulthood to something he felt more akin to his uniqueness."
"What would that be?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Do you remember your promise?" Dumbledore asked. I hated how he answered questions with questions. Of course I remembered the promise.
Still I hesitated, wondering what this could have to do with the boys identity. "Yes?"
Dumbledore looked me in the eye. "Then you know his name."
"Oh." All the joy that I'd felt from finding out more about my family was dashed in an instant. I felt something shatter inside me when I realized what he was saying.
I'm related to Voldemort.
"Tom was a silent threat." Dumbledore continued. "He had been corrupted since the beginning. I was the one that found him alone at the orphanage myself. His sister had been adopted long before, but only her. The Pendragons hadn't wanted him. He was too frightening. He had terrorized the other children with control of his magic I'd never seen in someone his age before."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Once he learned of magic, he was determined to become the most powerful. He used his charm and charisma to build a following at Hogwarts and after he left he transformed himself into something unrecognizable."
He paused, allowing me to absorb. I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I was related to Voldemort, but I thought of Anne. Had she known what was to become of her brother? Had she tried to stop him?
"He knew that Anne was his greatest threat." Dumbledore answered, as if reading my mind. "Anne, like me, was suspicious of him as well. They were twins, after all. Twins share a kind of connection the rest of us aren't privy to. Anne tried to stop him, wanted to save him, but he was too determined, and so she fought him in secret instead."
"She knew Tom would come after her. She had your mother in secret and ended up killing herself and your grandfather to ensure Tom couldn't claim any more lives." Dumbledore finished.
"But why?" I asked.
"So your mother could have you." He answered, and the weight of his words hit me like a brick. "Anne was a Seer. She had a gift for prophecy and divination. She came to me about several things, many of them being you. She saw visions of you in her later years, but she first established a connection with you the last time the Chamber was opened. I'm assuming you've noticed."
"I talk to her in my dreams, sometimes." I told him. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about for so long. But I had no idea it would all lead up to this." I frowned. "Do you think I'll have to disappear as well?"
Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds too long.
"She knew something she never shared with me, or perhaps anyone." He said quietly. "One thing her and Tom had in common was that they liked to work alone. She needed you to exist, and so she ensured you did." He nodded to me. "What you're meant to do, I don't know, and I mean it this time. But I'm under the assumption you're supposed to help kill him."
The weight of that statement made me feel as though I could sink through the floor. Why had he waited so long to tell me all this?
I sighed. "You're a secretive man, Professor."
"I would prefer cautious." He replied.
"So assuming that I'm Slytherin's only descendant at Hogwarts, and I haven't opened the Chamber. You think it's," I hesitated. "Voldemort?"
"Like I said, it isn't a matter of who, it's a matter of how," Dumbledore repeated his claim from the Hospital Wing. "How Voldemort has sunk his claws in once more, I do not know."
The two of us sat in grim silence for a while.
I stood. "I think I should go back to my dormitory."
"Get your rest." He agreed. "I know you learned a lot about yourself today. I can speak to Minerva about you missing your classes tomorrow, if you—"
I shook my head insistently. "No, no. There won't be a need for that. I'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure."
"Goodnight, Miss Holmes."
"Goodnight, Professor."
I walked in a daze back to Gryffindor tower, thankfully without incident. Not like Slytherin's monster would go after me anyway.
Much to my surprise, the common room wasn't empty when I arrived. Hermione sat with Harry and Ron on the sofa facing the portrait hole, the three of them showing varying levels of distress. Hermione sprung up once she saw me.
"Lila!" She scrambled over and pulled me into a big. "We've been worried sick!"
Harry gently pried her away so he could observe the state of my face and my robes. "What happened? Did Malfoy hurt you?"
I barely had enough time to shake my head before Ron interrupted.
"We know you're not the Heir, but the other houses are whispering about it and they're all pretty convinced, so if anyone tries to hurt you we'll be here."
I looked at the three of them, eyes trying to memorize every detail of their faces. What if one day I had to forget them, leave them all behind? What would they think of me when I told them? If I told them? My mother's picture felt heavy in my pocket. I felt tears building behind my eyes and before I knew it I was sobbing onto Hermione.
"Er, maybe let's get you to sleep." She said quickly. "It's been a long day. We'll talk about this tomorrow, yes?" She raised her head, likely to shoot the two boys a look telling them to get lost.
Hermione and I went up to our dorms. Lavender and Parvati were pretending to be asleep, but to no avail. I didn't say a word other than "goodnight" to Hermione before I fell asleep, face still wet with tears.