The months of waiting were the longest of Edmund's life.
Spring came to Hogwarts, then summer. The snow melted, the grounds turned green, and his friends celebrated the end of sixth year with the usual rituals—packing trunks, exchanging addresses, promising to write. Edmund went through the motions, but his mind was elsewhere. The ring was gone. The marriage document was gone. They were in the hands of the Department of Mysteries, and he could only wait.
The results of the authentication arrived in late May, delivered by an unmarked owl with a letter from Mr. Thornbury.
*Lord Prince,*
*The Department of Mysteries has completed its authentication of the Prince family ring and the marriage document. Both have been confirmed as genuine. The ring carries a magical signature consistent with the Slytherin bloodline, and the marriage document has been verified as authentic from the 12th century.*
*The bloodline verification ritual has been scheduled for the fifteenth of July. Please confirm your availability. The ritual will take place at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries. Attendance is limited to you and myself. The results will be sealed and known only to you, unless you choose to make them public.*
*Yours,*
*Elias Thornbury*
Edmund read the letter three times. Then he folded it and placed it in his journal. He would be at the Ministry on the fifteenth of July. He would know the truth.
He told no one.
---
The train ride home was quiet. Edmund sat with his friends, but his mind was already in London, in the Department of Mysteries, standing before the altar of blood. Cassius talked about Quidditch. Arthur talked about Auror training. Horace talked about potions. Astrid said nothing, but she watched Edmund with knowing eyes.
"You're thinking about something," she said, as the train pulled into King's Cross.
"I'm always thinking."
"About what?"
Edmund hesitated. He could not tell her. Not yet. "About the summer. About what comes next."
Astrid nodded slowly. "Write to me if you need to talk."
"I will."
She walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Edmund watched her go, then turned and walked toward the barrier.
---
The Prince manor was quiet. Edmund spent the first weeks of July in a state of controlled anticipation. He studied. He practiced. He walked the grounds. But his mind was always on the fifteenth.
The day arrived grey and warm. Edmund dressed in his formal robes, checked his wand, and called the carriage that would take him to London. He did not tell Mrs. Larch where he was going. He did not tell anyone.
The Ministry of Magic was busy, the atrium crowded with witches and wizards going about their business. Edmund walked through the golden fountain, past the fireplaces, to the lifts that would take him to the Department of Mysteries. Mr. Thornbury was waiting for him at the entrance to the lifts, his thin figure almost lost among the crowds.
"Lord Prince," he said. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
They descended deeper than Edmund had ever gone. Level Nine. The door opened onto a corridor of black stone, lit by torches that flickered with an eerie blue flame. A witch in grey robes was waiting for them.
"Follow me," she said.
She led them through a series of doors, each one sealed with a different lock—a key, a password, a handprint, a drop of blood. The final door opened onto a circular room, its walls lined with shelves of crystal vials, each one glowing with a faint, internal light. In the center of the room, a stone altar stood, its surface carved with runes that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic glow.
"The verification ritual will take place here," the witch said. "Please place your hand on the altar and provide a sample of your blood."
Edmund stepped forward. The altar was cold, the stone smooth beneath his palm. He felt a small prick—a needle of magic, not metal—and a drop of his blood fell into a crystal vial that had appeared on the altar's surface. The witch took the Prince family ring, touched it to the vial, and placed the marriage document beside them both. She began to chant in a language Edmund did not recognize—old, guttural, the words seeming to come from the stones themselves.
The runes on the altar flared to life, glowing with a warm, golden light. The vial pulsed, the blood within it swirling and changing color—from red to silver to gold. The ring grew hot, then warm, then settled into a steady pulse that matched the rhythm of the magic. The room filled with a hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through Edmund's bones.
The light faded. The hum stopped. The witch looked at the vial, then at the ring, then at Edmund. Her face was impassive, but her eyes were bright.
"The ritual is complete," she said. "The magic confirms that you are a descendant of the Slytherin bloodline. You will receive a certificate of heritage within the week. Congratulations, Lord Prince."
Edmund let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. He was a descendant. The blood of Salazar Slytherin flowed in his veins.
He looked at Mr. Thornbury. The solicitor's face was pale, but his eyes were steady.
"This information is sealed," Mr. Thornbury said. "The Department of Mysteries will not share it with anyone unless you choose to do so. The certificate will be delivered to your home, marked private. No one will know unless you tell them."
Edmund nodded. "I understand."
---
He walked out of the Ministry in a daze. The certificate would come later, but the confirmation was enough. He knew now that the Parseltongue was not an accident. The Chamber had opened for him because he was meant to be there. The blood of Salazar Slytherin ran in his veins, hidden for centuries, waiting for him to discover it.
He told no one. Not his friends. Not his professors. Not even his closest confidants. The secret was his alone.
The certificate arrived on the twentieth of July, embossed with the seal of the Department of Mysteries. It declared that Edmund Alistair Prince, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Prince, was a proven descendant of the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin. He read it once, then tucked it into his journal, hidden in the false bottom of his wardrobe. No one would find it. No one would know.
The system pulsed.
**System Notification: Bloodline Verification Complete**
*You have been confirmed as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. The Department of Mysteries has sealed the records. No external parties have been notified.*
**New Skill Unlocked: Parseltongue (Confirmed)**
**New Objective: The Heir's Legacy**
*The Chamber of Secrets is yours by blood. What you do with it is your choice.*
**Reward: +500 XP**
Edmund dismissed the interface and sat in the library, the fire low, the room dark. The ring was back on his finger—the Prince family ring, now joined in spirit by the legacy of Slytherin. He wore both, but he told no one.
The summer passed. He studied. He practiced. He prepared for seventh year. And he kept his secret.
---