The Broken Victory

Chapter 17: The Son Will Rise

I sat in my bed late that night, thinking about the day's event. I couldn't keep the smile off my face all day. I suppose it was uncharacteristic of me, because many people, both students and teachers, commented on it. I just gave them innocent shrugs. I didn't have any proof yet, but I knew my vision was true. Salazar Slytherin was my ancestor. I was his heir. His blood ran in my veins. I wasn't some hack who kept getting lucky. I was born to this kind of life. As my mother was.

In thinking about her, my smile lessened. Why had she gone off with my father? It didn't make sense, no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it. Everyone who knew of him here said how horrible he was. That thought made me feel a pang of shame, for I was part of him as well. A part I could overcome if necessary, I thought determinedly. But what if there was some other part of him...some reason my mother had given up everything for him? I couldn't think of her as being tricked...my mother had to be too smart for that. A clench of anger gripped me. Maybe my father had forced himself on her...or there was something redeemable about him that only she knew about. But if he was good, then why had he given me up?

These questions kept whirling around all through the night, with no answers being formed. I knew of only one course of action. In Dippet's office were files on the history of Hogwarts. If my mother did attend, I could check there. Tibald also had files, but if my mother were a Slytherin, he wouldn't have caught her. All right, maybe I was overreaching. I didn't have the luxury to put her on a pedestal. His was another place to check.

The next day I offered to help Dippet organize his files. Bless that man for his complete inability to function. The new first years' files were still piled around his dusty desk. I picked them up and opened one of the small drawers. Inside were thousands of files, magicked to fit into such a small space. I nonchalantly flipped to the M section. Magnata, Mahon, Maraslov, Masarz...I repeated the search a few times, just to be sure, then sat back on my heels in dejection. No Marvolo. I wondered briefly if anyone would have any reason to take her file out of the drawer...to prevent me from seeing anything. The only one I could think of who might do that was Dumbledore. I frowned. Breaking into his room wouldn't be an easy task.

But then, I didn't have to be the one to do it. A slow smile spread across my face. Randy and Damien had this coming to them.

I went to dinner that night. It was the first time I had shown up in the dining hall in a long time at a normal hour, and several of my classmates looked up in surprise as I sat down. I purposely sat next to Simon and Samantha, across from Randy. He eyed me nervously; we hadn't really talked since he and Damien had gone to Dumbledore when I was in the infirmary. I smiled at him evenly as I poured myself some water. Dinner was disgusting. I couldn't even make it out, with all that was slathered on it. Only the bread looked safe.

"Evening, Thomas," Samantha said, dabbing at her mouth's corners. Simon, Randy and I stared at her in bewilderment.

"Um, hi, Samantha. Or do you prefer Ms. DeRosa?" The corners of my mouth twitched. I had a feeling I knew where her newfound maturity came from. Or supposed maturity, I should say.

"No, no, Samantha is just fine." Sam looked haughtily at Randy, who had begun to laugh at her. Her face turning red, she sniffed, "Oh, do grow up, Randolph."

Randy stopped laughing and sputtered, "I told you never to call me that!"

Sam waved her hand airily. "But it is your proper name. It's much more elegant to address each other this way, is it not?"

"Uh, Sammy, you can hardly be elegant with your hair braided in pigtails and your obvious drooling over at the Ravenclaw table, no matter what you call us. Just from a male's point of view," Randy told her. Samantha looked like she was about to cry, as Randy continued. "If the bloke hasn't given you the time of day by now, I seriously doubt he's going to invite you to the dance. But don't worry. Just wait a year, and one of us will probably take you." He turned to Simon and me. "Right, boys?"

"Shut up, Randy!" she shouted and stormed out of the room. Randy looked at her back, shrugged, and then returned to his food.

I stared at him in amazement. "Randy?"

He looked up. "Yes, Thomas?"

The phrase that wanted to get out was, You're a stupid git, you know that? But I needed this conversation to go smoothly, so instead I bit back my insult and said, "What was that about?"

Randy, who had been defensive, relaxed when he thought I meant no harm. "Oh," he scoffed, "little Sammy got herself a crush on the Ravenclaw prefect. He's a bloody fifth year! Like he would ask her to the dance coming up."

"The dance for third years and above?" I asked, seeing my opportunity.

Randy nodded. "Yes, that one." He pretended to impersonate Samantha. Flipping his hair, he squealed, "Oh, it is the event; how haven't you heard? Simply everyone will be there. Including...Matthew Linston." He rolled his eyes. "Girls are so boring."

"Sure," I said. Then, stirring my spoon in patterns, I said in a nervous voice, "So...um...will the professors be there?" Randy and Simon, being Slytherins, immediately noticed the change in my demeanor. I brought my shoulders down, increasing my secretive posture.

I drew Randy right in. "Most of them, I would imagine. Your favorite will be there." He smirked. "Dumbley." He had a sore spot for Dumbledore since he still couldn't turn a thimble into a pin. Of course he blamed his ineptitude on the teacher.

I stood, smiled, said, "Oh, good," and left. Of course, they followed me.

Randy came right up to my side, puffing, "Why do you care if Dumbley is there?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "Try to make a brain next time instead of a pin; it'll be more useful to you." His eyes looked at me in curiosity. "It's because if Dumbledore is at the dance, it means he won't be someplace else. Right?"

"Excellent, Watson." Simon and Randy looked perplexed. I didn't explain it to them. Truthfully, I didn't really want Simon in on the plan. I held nothing against him at the moment, and they might be caught. As far as Randy and Damien were concerned, they could serve detention for the rest of their lives for all I cared. But Randy would probably need Simon. I made a mental note about Simon right then. Sure, he was still very competitive with me, but he was a very bright logician.

I headed for the dorms, them nipping at my heels. In a sighing voice, I explained, "It was just a stupid idea I had." I went over to my bed, conscientiously slipping the papers that held the notes from my past further under my bed. I had left them sticking out a bit before going to dinner, as a reminder to Randy of them. "I was just thinking he might have some files on my family there. There weren't any in Dippet's office, so I can't imagine why there would be some in Dumbledore's. It was a silly thought, really. What could possibly be so special about my past that would cause Dumbley to take and hide files?"

The look on Randy's face was priceless. His eyes widened, his jaw gaped a bit, and he looked like the next year of Transfiguration classes were cancelled. I knew he and Damien had been lurking about me for quite some time, trying to figure things out. Damien's dad probably set the inquiry into motion, stating that a Mudblood shouldn't have got into Slytherin. They wanted to have something over me, something that might even get me kicked out, really badly. Damien for obvious reasons wanted this, and Randy because he foolishly had decided to pair up with Malfoy right now. I sure am nice to have let this little idea of something being in Dumbledore's office slip. Or incredibly stupid, as I am sure they will find it. I smiled.

Simon responded as I had hoped he would. "You're right; it's ridiculous. Nothing in his office is worth breaking in. You know how much trouble that would get you into?" He crossed to his bed, pulling out a book on Quidditch, throwing over it to me, "Why don't you just give in and talk to him about it? I know you and Dumbley have this hate thing going, but he would probably tell you anything. What would there be to hide?" Simon, at his practical best.

"Right. I will talk to him the next time I see him." I saw the ticking in Randy's mind. The next time I saw Dumbledore would be the day after the dance, for class. And if I got to him first, then his and Damien's whole plan that I had graciously set up for them would possibly be shot. So that left them the need for immediate action, the night of the dance.

Randy suddenly sprang into motion. "Excuse me; I have to go meet someone."

Simon looked at his back and frowned. "Who does Randy have to meet? I didn't think anyone liked him."

He said it so seriously that it cracked me up a bit. He turned his frown on me, and I held my hands up. "Sorry. Another random thought came to me. Of some girl running screaming as Randy chases her, saying, 'I just have to meet you! Someone must like me.'"

Simon laughed and joined in. "I need companionship! Even Muggles!"

"Randy's personal ad in the Daily Prophet: Self-centered git with a lisp, poor social skills and the magic capacity of biscuit. Seeking anything that won't run away," I offered, enjoying the game.

Simon snorted. "A biscuit?"

I shrugged. "How many biscuits do you know with magical ability?"

Simon smiled, shaking his head. "You are a twisted, weird man, Tom." I smiled back slightly, another thought coming to me. I actually didn't mind Simon and felt the feeling was mutual. I had Simon's respect. After all, he wouldn't compete with me so hard if he didn't respect me. He could be useful, as even more than just an acquaintance. My thoughts ran back to Salazar...there was something I needed to complete, even if it wasn't clear to me just yet. And Simon could help...under me. I just needed his loyalty. Or something to tie him to me, if that failed. And it shouldn't take that much, just a little something.

"Simon," I said. He looked up from reading. I slid off my bed and approached him. Smiling slyly, I asked, "Do you want to see a really neat spell? One no one else here knows?"

Simon, a true Slytherin, weighed the options internally before letting his curiosity and ambition win out. "Sure."

I flipped out my wand, rolling it in my fingers. "It's a curse...oh, don't get all concerned. Curses aren't necessarily part of the Dark Arts; it's mostly the intention behind it that makes it so. Not scared, right? Fine. It's called a Disfigurement Curse." I had read about this one during the summer, when working on the disfigurement of Mara. I glanced around, finally coming across Damien's pet cat, Sadie.

I went over and picked her up. Simon ran over to close the door, making sure no one was around. I looked at Sadie and felt a tweak of guilt. Performing this on a human made me less worried. Probably because I liked animals more. But I couldn't risk doing this on a human, as much as I'd like to erase all of Damien's limbs. And I had the curse down cold in memory. It couldn't be that hard to perform. I had already done it several times on some of the slugs and worms near the forest.

I stood in the next to his bed, holding Sadie in my arms. Simon sat back down and watched, wide-eyed. I pointed, swished, and flicked at her, chanting, "Ablongate Distortiontortalus!"

Immediately Sadie yelped in pain as her torso enlarged and her face shifted onto her tail. Her legs sprouted from her ears, and she lay there trembling. It was a gruesome sight, and Simon looked like he was going to be sick. I hadn't even expected results of this nature. Hurriedly I said the counter-curse. "Obliviate Distortionalus!" Nothing happened...

For a moment. Then, with a shriek, Sadie transformed back into the normal, sleek cat she always was. She laid there, spasming. I reached down and rubbed her, letting her bite my hand. "Good girl," I whispered. I performed a quick healing charm on her to stop the twitching, and even did the Obliviate Spell, just in case cats retained memories. I smiled, my sense of triumph washing out any doubts or guilt that had been coursing through me. Or worries that I would screw things up, not be good enough with my bad blood, and get caught.

Simon stopped looking repulsed and to his credit showed a look of slight amazement. "Remarkable," he said softly. His eyes caught mine. "She's okay now, right?"

I stood and nodded. "Yes. She won't even remember going through it, and she's in no pain. I'll even bring her a dessert tonight." Sadie was now rubbing my ankles. "I know, darling; I wish it were your master instead of you. Next time." I looked up and saw Simon glaring at me. I sighed. "I'm joking!" I think. A small grin came to me, picturing Damien, or maybe Dumbledore, on the ground like that.

Simon glanced around the room, his eyes falling on a spider crawling up the wall. He looked at me, and I saw the hunger in his eyes outweigh the worry. "I want to try it!" With my instruction, he caused the spider to have all its legs grow out its mouth, almost suffocating it. Afterwards, we put the same healing and forgetting charms on it. Though I highly doubted that spiders would remember, it made Simon feel better.

We sat on his bed for a minute, as shadows from the night filled the room. Sadie jumped up next to us, purring. And as Simon reached out to pet her, I added, "She's as good as new. Won't ever know we did an illegal spell on her." I didn't add that he was now as accountable as I for something that could get us thrown out and possibly in jail. I looked at him innocently, saying, "What? You had to know after seeing what happened to Sadie that it wasn't exactly a favorable spell. You wanted to do it. Right? It's not like I would turn you in." And as his expression shifted from horror, to resignation, to consent, I knew that I had him.

~*~

The evening of the dance I strolled into the common room as Samantha stood in the middle, her sister and another girl putting the finishing touches on her outfit. She looked like an enlarged tomato with all the layers of red she was in, but I didn't say anything. She didn't even seem to notice me as I walked by, lost in the inane chatter of her friends. "Oh, I knew Matthew would invite me. He is so much more mature than the boys who are here..." She and her friends glanced up at me and giggled.

I felt a sensation similar to bile...no, wait; it was bile, build up. Randy had been right about girls' stupidity. I knew Matthew, and if Sammy wasn't planning on letting him peel off her tomato outfit, there wouldn't be a second date. But hey, maybe his was the mature way to act.

I went into the boys' dorms, desiring nothing but a long shower. I had been working in the Potions lab all afternoon, and several first years I had been helping had spilled a whole mixture of Newt Body Fluid on me. I cursed them internally as I scrubbed. By the time I got out, the dorm was full. Since most of the castle would be taken up with the upperclassmen at the dance, the rest of us were mainly staying in our rooms. I grinned when I saw that both Randy and Damien weren't anywhere around. Rumor had it that Damien had cancelled his date with Cathleen, for unspecified reasons. Hell, I wouldn't have blamed him if he had had no reason and just dumped her. But I had a hunch where he really was.

I took my time getting dressed before sauntering out of the Slytherin rooms. The dance had been underway for about a half hour now, a fitting time. I knew Tibald the caretaker would be in his offices right now; he always was. I knocked politely, and upon entering his face broke out in a creased, grudging grin. I was one of the few students he could stand, probably because he could associate with being poor and an outcast. Plus I never treated him like dirt to his face, as most of the others did. I never understood the reasoning behind doing that and pulling pranks on him. There was nothing worse than having a sharp eye always looking over you, seething to get you in trouble. That was all being rude to Tibald ever got anyone. I can't count how many detentions he dolled out each day. I had never had a detention once, though I was often out past curfew in the restricted section of the library.

I smiled at him and said in a reluctant tone, "I feel sort of bad telling you this."

Tibald's eyes immediately gleamed. "What is it, Mr. Riddle? Is someone acting improperly?"

I studied my shoes. "I don't want to get them into trouble...but I don't think it's fair to Professor Dumbledore..."

Tibald loved Dumbley. He immediately jumped upright, asking ferociously, "Who is it? What are the little urchins up to!?" I hesitated, and he swore in a fast tone, "I promise you, Tom, no one will know where the information came from. I won't tell a soul. Nobody will blame you."

I looked at him and said very sincerely, "I don't want to name names. But I think I heard something is going on in Dumbledore's office..." That was all it took. With a pat on my head, which made me grimace, he was off to the dance. I double backed and hid myself near Dumbledore's office. I could hear Randy and Damien's voices inside. They sounded close to being done. I frowned, willing Dumbledore to hurry.

I held my breath, impatiently tapping my foot, sweating a bit in anticipation. There wasn't much time left, from the sound of it...and he just had to show up. My timing had been perfect...unless I had underestimated Randy and Damien.

Just then Dumbley and Tibald came rushing around. Angrily, Dumbley ordered the door to swing open. Craning my neck, I saw the beautiful sight of Malfoy and Randy getting caught red handed. Smirking, I decided that in itself would have been enough if I didn't see a folder drop discreetly from Damien's pale fingers. I twisted around, almost giving away my hiding position. Scrawled across it in large, black script was MARVOLO. It fell near me, as he had been standing right by the door, ready to leave. Magnificent.

Dumbledore entered, pushing the boys back. In his fury, he was blind sighted to anything else, as was Tibald. Randy and Malfoy were too scared to think. I took a deep breath, reached over, and nabbed the folder. Danger factor practically nonexistent. I lagged for a minute, listening.

"What did you take?" Dumbledore was asking in a serious tone. Both Malfoy and Randy denied taking anything.

Tibald ranted, a mad gleam in his eyes. "Liars! Don't listen to them! Wait and clean up and see if anything is missing, the little nabbers!"

Malfoy glared at him, sniffing in condescension. "Search us. You won't find anything, Caretaker."

His attitude toward Tibald made Dumbledore even more infuriated than their actual breaking in. He stayed silent, obviously trying to bring himself under control. Tibald was still rolling. "They might have gone and stashed stuff someplace else and come back! I don't trust them! Not good, like their housemate, Mr. Riddle..."

"Aw, thanks Tibald," I whispered as I silently crept back to the library. I stayed there, having no trouble finding a deserted place to sit. In a dark corner, not bothering to conjure a light, I sat. Breathlessly, I traced my finger over the glossy emblem of my name. My wizard name. Marvolo. My real name. Carefully, as if unwrapping a precious gift, which in fact this was for me, I opened it. What I came across brought a choking to me. There was a picture of a woman...a tall woman with beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was brown, but wavy like mine. And she was moving, so lifelike....She was wearing a proud smile, a bright silver snake emblazed on her green robe. She was in Slytherin, of course.

Finally I tore myself away. She might not have loved you, I reminded myself. She was a great witch, so I should respect that. But love, or any emotion of that intensity, wouldn't be helpful. It was like what Salazar had said: emotions led one to narrowed paths and views. Love shouldn't matter. That wasn't what I had been looking for in these files; I was looking for something much less infantile. I told myself this, as my heart still clomped in my throat, sending warm shivers through me. I resisted it. I am looking for something bigger than love, I sternly told myself.

But reading her file might be important, I reasoned. Holding my breath, I began. Salome Marvolo was born in 1902, in a small wizarding village town in France. She went to Hogwarts in 1913 and was sorted into Slytherin. I read it closer than I had any text I had ever laid eyes on before. She received good marks, earned ten O.W.L.s, and was part of the Dueling Club. I couldn't help but smile when I read that she never had a detention. The files apparently continued after her schooling years. Curiously, I read on. After graduating Hogwarts, she worked in the Experimental Charms Division at the Ministry for a few years, before suddenly leaving the magic community. My fists clenched. I had a fairly good idea what caused this. In 1927, she was spotted again, pregnant. She had fallen in, some said, with a small cult of Salazar worshippers that dabbled in the Dark Arts. For that reason, and for the fact that she refused to name the father of her child, she was treated with disdain as an outcast. Even when she broke off ties with the cult, she was not well received by many. Only her fellow Salazar followers accepted her. I noted that the cult was made up of pureblooded wizarding families. Only they remained loyal, out of the thousands of wizarding families that surrounded her. She finally disappeared again, presumably to find the father. She was never heard from again, and supposedly both she and the baby died in childbirth.

Anger boiled in me. Whether she loved me or not, she was still my kin, and those pathetic Mudblood wizards had snubbed her. Of all people, one would think that wizards who were most likely ostracized in their lives by having Muggle relations would be sympathetic to her cause. But no, they only saw her as a dark witch, odd and to be avoided. I shuddered. And here those Mudbloods treated me the same way, avoiding me because of my visions or that I was in Slytherin. So did the few Mudblood sympathizers; they were as hypocritical and prejudiced as the actual Mudbloods. No wonder Salazar couldn't stand them or trust them enough to want them at his school.

I flipped to the next page, which was not a formal document. It was scribblings in Dumbledore's handwriting. At the top it showed a family tree, mostly blank, but it was of Salazar Slytherin's line. He drew a line from Salome to Salazar. I wasn't really surprised that he knew about that. If there was a myth out there, trust Dumbledore to have investigated it. The man did not base himself in reality often. So he obviously knew about the myth of Salazar's heir.

A bit further down, he concluded, Salome, for all of her gifted abilities, is not the true heir of whom Salazar spoke. She lacks some of the necessary qualifications I have read about. What qualifications? I wondered. Unfortunately, he didn't go into them. But there is little doubt in my mind that she is the descendent of Salazar himself. Unfortunately, since she is no longer living, further testing is impossible.

Right, that is why it's so sad that my mom died. Because you can't test her, I thought bitterly. But his next words caught my attention immediately.

The heir of Slytherin was said to hold the capability to unleash his greatest achievement. No one is completely sure what that entails, but we are fairly sure it relates directly to here at his founding school. I believe that it might have something to do with Salazar and his obsession with keeping the magic community clean of mixed blooded wizards. The school, his pride and joy, seems a likely place where he would start. The hidden weapon has now sunk into legend here at Hogwarts, under the name the Chamber of Secrets.

He claimed that, in a vision, he saw the threat of mixed bloods and those who supported them would be the downfall of him and society. I do still believe, though many now doubt, that Salazar was a true visionary. I think someone of this nature will perform a great change on our society, unless stopped by his heir. Nobody still believes this, of course, other than myself. Many do not even believe in the idea of an heir. Since Salome and her child are dead, I attempted to locate others of her family, but there are many who bear the same surname as she, and none panned out.

I had lost all hope until a student came. Thomas Marvolo Riddle. His gifts and intellect seem boundless. He is frighteningly above his age, in behavior and demeanor, intellectually and emotionally. When he exhibits emotion, that is. I find myself looking at him, wondering what humanity is lurking there behind his controlled façade. He has had no moral guidance, but I question whether any would work on him. I have little doubt that he will play into our history prominently, but for what ends I am not sure. Could he be the heir...or is he the other one Salazar spoke of, the one to defeat the heir? I have yet to come to a reasonable conclusion or even a proper way to precede other than with the strictest caution. It is safest that way for all, until more can be known.

I sat back, rabid butterflies raging in my stomach. A curl upwards from my lips opened my mouth, where I said to myself, "Well, looks like I am one step ahead of you this time, Dumbley." I leaned in again, rereading the top of the page. So there was something more important, a hollow voice sang in me. This Chamber of Secrets I was supposed to open. The wonder at what the Chamber really held was mirrored with the triumphant thought that only I could open it. My eyes narrowed in superiority and gleaming happiness at the thought of showing to all, especially the Mudbloods and Muggles, what a real Slytherin was capable of. If I couldn't have been the one to think of it, at least I can carry out my family's legacy, I decided.