Ad Mortem Festinamus

Hogwarts hadn't seen such a piece of jewellery before, and for some days, Narcissa's engagement ring and the engagement as such, which had been announced in the Daily Prophet according to Cygnus' demands, were the only topics among the female students. A large diamond shaped like a stylised lily, a band of platinum embellished with small sapphires - Bellatrix had made a joke that small African countries could be run by the equivalent value. Narcissa didn't care for the money it was worth, in her mind, this ring was invaluable. It was the visible symbol of the rest of her life which she would spend with her beloved fiancé.

Her only sorrow was that time was ticking away much too slow, except for the holidays, when it was running with the speed of an arrow. Her parents still kept a close eye on her, engaged or not, and she couldn't blame them after the thing with Andromeda's pregnancy. Their caution had at least one advantage - it was slightly easier for the young couple to stick to Lucius' self-imposed reserve. When Narcissa had been a little frightened to sleep with her love in the Easter holidays still, her desire had conquered her anxiety in summer. She got so excited when they kissed - she wanted more of him, much, much more.

She could feel the definition of his muscles underneath his robes, and the warmer the weather, the less material there was to disguise them. The darn Quidditch had shaped his body, making it fit and tight and strong, and she dreamt of touching it; actually, she would have been quite content for a start getting to see it. Thank god, autumn came with warmer clothes - between September 1^st and Christmas, they could see each other only twice anyway.

The good news was that Lucius, not so thoroughly a reformed man as he had professed, had used the tricks he learnt in his Law School classes and found a loophole of his own pledge. He wouldn't sleep with his betrothed. But it was almost his duty as a caring fiancé to indulge his darling, wasn't it? And whenever they managed to escape Mr Black's close surveillance, that was exactly what he did, to her unmistakable delight.

Despite the necessity of secrecy, Lucius hadn't concealed his other commitment from Narcissa. He had sworn an oath of lifelong service to the Dark Lord, fully meaning it - unlike his studies in College, he was devoted to the Dark Arts and worshipped his master, this was what he really wanted to do, what he was good at, what gave him the kicks. Narcissa hadn't been surprised. She had heard the rumours, she had known Lucius' fancy for the Dark Arts and his general enthusiasm for secret clubs. If she should have guessed before his confession who was bound to be part of that mysterious order, she would have betted that Lucius was among them, just like her own sister. This was just like them.

She found the Dark Arts interesting - they were banned from Hogwarts, making them all the more interesting, and she thought that Dumbledore was an old fool. All his students knew curses, and these were, in short, the Dark Arts - curses, more or less dangerous curses. Instead of making such a miracle, nay - taboo out of them, he should treat them as what they were, facts of life that needed to be dealt with. Taboos merely attracted curiosity, made someone like this Lord Voldemort great. Dumbledore was a hypocrite, that was the problem. He'd have Defence Against The Dark Arts taught, the whole subject was to learn curses that were neatly labelled 'counter-curses', as if that was any different.

Still, she didn't feel the slightest inclination to join up. She'd worship no master, certainly not, and she had been amazed that Lucius would. On the other hand - his father had never been the strong role-model he had been looking for, never given him the praise and support he received from his master. So perhaps the Dark Order was just the right thing, although she was more than suspicious about this lifelong service thing. Maybe it was just her jealousy, she wanted to be the only one that he'd give lifelong oaths to.

She was curious about the identity of 'Lord Voldemort'. From Lucius, she knew that this one claimed to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, but that might be a lie. Those were the rules of the so-called 'street-credibility', claim to be of good stock, be tougher and more ruthless than the rest, create some mystery about yourself, et voilà, instant fame. She didn't buy this. That Lord Voldemort might well be a genius, but after all he was just human, and she wanted to get behind his secret. Who was he? Where did he come from? And what the heck was he about? He didn't strike her like an altruist, just wishing to teach talented young magicians. He must have a purpose, and since her fiancé had put all his eggs in this one basket, she'd better find it out.

She started with the claim that he was a descendant of Slytherin. This was comparably easy, all she had to do was checking the family chronicles and the Hogwarts' enrolment book. The Slytherin lineage had been extinct since the eleventh century, but some female family members had married into other dynasties. She carefully traced four dozen family trees, finding that the only contemporary family that could claim a connection were the Gaunts. Of course, none of the pureblooded families would have come through without marrying their own cousins every now and then - just like her uncle Orion had married his second grade cousin Walpurga (and look what had come out of it, eh?) - but the marriage records of the Gaunts were truly appalling. For goodness' sake! However, the last two children of this bloodline were dead, too, according to the records. Merope Gaunt had died in the twenties, aged twenty-two. Morfin Gaunt had died in Azkaban in the fifties. Neither of them seemed to have got any children, ergo their line was extinct, ergo there was no living relative of old Salazar. Lord Voldemort was a fraud, at least concerning his parentage.

This sort of discovery was better not put in a letter, so she decided to wait for the next Hogsmeade weekend and tell Lucius personally. This was lucky, for it spared her a mistake - because two days later, she received a rather formal note from her sister Andromeda - who still hadn't forgiven her for her engagement to Lucius Malfoy, just like Narcissa hadn't forgiven her the unpardonable reaction to those news. - Andromeda and Ted Tonks were proud and pleased to announce the birth of their second daughter Helena Iris Noelle, little Nymphadora was happy about her little sister -

Narcissa contemplated the attached photo of the Tonks family. Andy looked very happy. She beamed at her husband, cuddled her daughters and nothing in the picture betrayed the worries they must be having. Cygnus had fulfilled his threats and taken care that Ted got no good job, neither in the Ministry nor elsewhere. He thought he could convince his daughter like this to abandon her husband and return with her two 'bastard' children to her wealthy family's bosom. Thank god, he had no idea that his own wife undermined his scheming by secretly slipping Andy a good deal of galleons here and there, 'to keep them from starving', as she would say.

Two bastard children... This rang a different kind of bell in her head. Not every family member would necessarily appear on the official family trees, right? She had merely checked Hogwarts' Great Book for possible omissions, but she hadn't thought of checking whether any of them had 'unofficial' children with unsuitable partners, or children that would appear nowhere because they had been born outside of marriage...

She went through the chronicles and alumni books once again, counterchecking with the Great Book. No. No. No... She had almost given up when coming across Merope Gaunt once more. Lucius had estimated his master's age - he didn't really know, but the Dark Lord was friendly with some of the older members, making it seem as if they knew each other of old, so if he had indeed been in school with Avery and Rodolphus' uncle, he must be in his mid-forties, five years more or less...

She checked every single entry in the Great Book between 1915 and 1935, which took her two days on total. There were lots of possible candidates. There had been a muggle war in that period, costing many wizards' lives, too, leaving orphaned children, mothers who'd marry anew, mothers who hadn't managed to marry the father of their child before this one's death... She came across her old friend Tom Riddle again and smiled. He was too young to be an indirect victim of that war, and too old to lose his parents in the next. In the colon with the parents' names, there were two little 'orph.', his residential address was from a muggle orphanage. Tom Marvolo Riddle... What might have become of him, eh? Hang on... Marvolo... Marvolo... This was no muggle name, for a start, and what was more - she had read that quite rare name elsewhere already. Could that boy have a muggle mother, who had named him after his wizard father? There were only two possible suspects - Ignatius Marvolo Harper, born in 1851, died in 1930, and strangely enough, Marvolo Fengon Gaunt, born in 1868, died in 1929. Harper, it turned out, had suffered from a lingering disease in the last fifteen years of his life, it was unlikely that he had still fathered a son in that time. As for Marvolo... Something else caught her eye in that moment. Marvolo's daughter Merope had died on December 31^st,1926 - which was the day of Tom Marvolo Riddle's birth!

She compared the two photographs in the annuals, dismissing the idea as nonsense. Merope was positively ugly, while Tom looked fantastic. They could impossibly be mother and son! Well, perhaps the father had been good-looking...? But why would some handsome muggle get involved with a witch that had some resemblance with a hag? Why would a witch become involved with a muggle anyway? 'Because he was handsome', she scolded herself. She went through the books once more, this time exclusively focusing on Tom Riddle and Merope Gaunt. Tom had received a medal for special services to the school. It wasn't expressly stated, but she found it rather obvious that this service must have something to do with a certain incident that year - 1942 - in which a student had been killed.

She got up and fetched an album with issues of the Daily Prophet from 1942, flipped through it, and wasn't let down. There... 'Has The Chamber Of Secrets Been Opened?' The Chamber of Secrets was something like a legend, the sort of horror story that older students told the younger to frighten them out of their wits. It was said that Salazar Slytherin had built it somewhere in Hogwarts and disguised it so cleverly that it had never been discovered. Only his true heir would be able to open it, and unleash the terrible monster inside. Narcissa had never believed this nonsense, but maybe it was no nonsense after all...? If Tom Riddle truly was Merope Gaunt's son, he was a descendant of old Slytherin, muggle father or not. 1245 was the magic number here. Tom Riddle had achieved 45 points more than possible, proving what an excellent wizard he was, indicating that he had been crafty beyond his age, beyond his apparent chances... Slytherin had had an aversion against anyone not pureblooded, but surely, he would have been very proud with an heir like Tom, wouldn't he? Such excellence! Such talent!

But Tom wouldn't have been rewarded for opening the Chamber of Secrets. He would have been kicked out of the school, more like! Oh, come on, stupid! She scolded herself again. If a brilliant wizard committed some crime, he'd surely be able to blame someone else for it. More moronic people than him had managed this. He could have opened the Chamber to see what was inside, out of mere curiosity, simply because he could... A girl had been killed, a culprit had to be found, and surely, Tom hadn't had the least intention to pay for it himself and be expelled. She grinned triumphantly. That was the reason of this medal! She just knew it. He had got a medal because he had found out the 'culprit' - and he had found him out because he had planted the evidence himself. Of course! Anyone with half a brain would have done the same!

She was absolutely thrilled. After admiring Tom Riddle, the brilliant, incomparable Tom Riddle, for so long, wondering what he might be doing nowadays, envying his excellence, she had finally discovered his secrets. He was Salazar Slytherin's last heir. She would have wagered her right arm that he had changed his name in 'Lord Voldemort' and decided to become a true expert in the Dark Arts.

Wasn't this ironic? And rather wonderful? Lucius should have bound himself to Tom Riddle of all persons? The brilliant, brilliant Tom Riddle? Whom she had admired for so long? Seeing it in this new light, the duty of kneeling down before one's master appeared a whole lot less repulsive to her. This was a worthy master!

That evening, she walked past a couple of First Years in the Common Room who were playing Crabbed, and just sorted out the small letter plates before them. One had gained a hundred and ten points by spelling 'Oxymoron', which wouldn't have been bad for a First Year, if he had spelled it correctly.

"It's oxymoron, with a simple n," Narcissa remarked indifferently while passing them. "Not oxymorone. You cannot put that there."

The other boy gave a spiteful cackle and instantly crossed out his friend's points. "You hear her, Fancourt! It's my turn, and I'll take the 'oxy' over there for 'oxygen' and the 'moron' here, for that's what you are!"

As a child, Narcissa had often played this, beating both her sisters and their parents in style. Where would that board be now? Had her mother kept it? She had been invincible in this game. Some hours later, lying in her bed and thinking once more of her amazing discovery, that talent of old helped her, delivering the last missing piece in her chain of evidence. She was racking her brains why on earth Tom Riddle had chosen that utterly ridiculous title. A wizard as clever as him, and the best pseudonym he could come up with was Lord Voldemort?! No wonder that people didn't dare to speak it - they must be afraid of bursting out with laughter!

Tom Marvolo Riddle, what was in your head, eh? In that second, it made click. Just click. TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE - this was almost LORD VOLDEMORT, except for three superfluous letters, 'a', 'i' and 'm'... That was it! 'I am Lord Voldemort'! Was it far-fetched? No, it was not! She was a hundred percent sure, this could be no coincidence!

She was so impatient to tell her fiancé these exciting news, she could hardly wait. What was more - she missed him so badly anyway that she suggested in her next letter that he ought to come to Hogwarts and watch the next Quidditch match, which was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, the old evergreen. It'd be the perfect pretext for him to come - not even Slughorn would permit him to come to the school only to meet his fiancée, they had tried it. But he wasn't going to mind the old captain coming to watch a match! And he didn't; Lucius got the permission without further ado, causing the old Professor to wink at Narcissa whenever he mentioned the subject.

This was her second Quidditch match ever, and it was as awful as she had remembered. Fourteen students on the brink of getting themselves killed, only to get some stupid ball through some stupid loop... But what did she care; she was sitting next to her lover, pressing his hand. Lucius was torn between his genuine interest in the match - he wouldn't trust his eyes, the team was playing abysmally! - and his even more genuine affection for his fiancée, whom he hadn't seen in four weeks. He tried a compromise, explaining everything that was happening on the pitch to her.

"That Potter kid is good," he gnarled wryly, following one of the Gryffindor chasers with his eyes. "He ought to be playing for us!"

"He's not in Slytherin, mon amour. In fact, he's a mate of my dreadful cousin."

"That doubles the shame... What the heck have they done to my team, for Merlin's sake!"

"I know something that's bound to lift your spirits, honey!"

He suppressed a chuckle and turned to her, pecking a kiss on her cheek. "I know some cosy spots for that, indeed!"

"Oh, so I know two things to cheer you up then."

He looked curious, and straight after the obligate chat with his old Head of House, after the match, they headed for one of the greenhouses, which was out of use for several years now. "What did you want to tell me, my angel?"

"First things first, mon trésor..." She nibbled on his throat and unbuttoned his robes, and the afternoon's flush of happy spirits made her almost forget her big secret. Fortunately, she remembered when they were on their way back. "Do you happen to remember Tom Riddle, darling?"

"Who?"

She beckoned to make a short stop in the next best broom closet, keen not to be overheard by anyone. This was her great discovery! "Tom Riddle, mon amour. The one with that fabulous OWL result, that I wanted to best."

"One trillion points boy, you mean?"

"That's the one. You know how I always wondered what he's doing now? With all his talent?"

He arched a brow. "I know you're a bit obsessed with that bloke, Cissa, but if you've already got me here, I'd know better things to do with you than discuss that weirdo!"

"Oh, I bet you'll be frigging interested in him, when I tell you what I've found out!"

"Let me guess..." He pulled her close and let his hand glide under her robes once more. "He's the inventor of - hm... He's invented a broom stick? Anything to do with Quidditch?"

"You're so on the wrong track, love. For a start - he's changed his name since then, that's why I never read anything about him anywhere."

"I'd get rid of that muggle name, too, if I was him. - This perfume drives me crazy, you know that?"

"You in particular know his new name, Lucius. Though you don't like to use it."

"Excuse me?"

"He's taken on quite a career, and I know you admire him endlessly."

She grinned, even more when he replied, "I do rarely admire half-bloods, and that's what he is, if I remember correctly."

"Trust me, you worship this one."

"There are but two people in this world that I worship, mon ange, and you're one of them." He had unhooked her bra and cupped her breasts under the garment of her school uniform, making her gasp.

"I am one of them," she breathed and closed her eyes, enjoying the caress. "And Tom Riddle is the other."

"No, the Dark Lord is the other."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying."

His hands came to a halt, and opening her eyes again, she found him stare at her in sheer incredulity. "I beg your pardon?!"

"I'm not saying this lightly, Lucius. Trust me. I've checked it over and over again. Tom Marvolo Riddle was born on December 31^st in 1926, his mother Merope died after his birth. She was a born Gaunt, who happened to be the last living relations of Salazar Slytherin -"

"You're kidding me!"

"Nope, I'm perfectly serious, even though it's hard with your hands where they're now... Anyway, Tom Marvolo, doubtlessly named for his grandfather Marvolo Gaunt, turned out to be the most brilliant student that this school has seen in more than one millennium. He has taken his name and exchanged the letters, very easily. It's an anagram, you see? Take the letters of his name, and you get 'I am Lord Voldemort'."

"No!"

"Yes! It's either this, or a very unlikely coincidence, which would also include a lie about his descent. Salazar Slytherin hasn't got any other possible descendant. I've spent ages in the library to make sure."

"No!"

"Isn't it fantastic? I just had to tell you! You know, I was always a bit intrigued by that whole master-and-servant thing - you're no one's servant, mon amour, you could never be. But learning from Tom Riddle - he's a total genius! You couldn't have found yourself a more worthy teacher!"

He was still staring at her, speechless, but not quite as enraptured as she had expected. "You - you must be mistaken, Cissa... He can't be a mudblood! He hates them!"

"Language, darling! And that he hates them - oh well. That's easy enough to understand, isn't it? Just imagine, from your mother's side, you belong to great Salazar Slytherin, and your father hasn't got enough magic in him to hex himself a cup of tea? Take one look at poor Severus' situation and you know where his aversion comes from!"

"But - but - he's my master!"

"Yes! So what? He's not a tad less brilliant, only because his father was a non-entity." She quickly reported everything she had found out, about the Chamber of Secrets, about the medal he had got. On the one hand, Lucius increasingly believed her, on the other hand his devastation grew, too. Like her, he didn't consider himself as anybody's servant. He would only kneel down for the greatest sorcerer in the world, and he somehow couldn't digest the fact that this one should be a muggle bastard. Narcissa noticed his uneasiness, anxiously asking whether she had better kept her mouth shut on this issue.

"Nonsense, mon ange." He kissed her hand. "Knowing is always better than not-knowing."

"I didn't think it would affect you so much! I thought you'd be pleased to hear what a total genius he is after all," she said awkwardly.

"Don't worry, sweetness. I'm just so surprised, that's all!"