The days after the N.E.W.T.s passed in a strange, suspended silence. The castle, which had been buzzing with tension for weeks, seemed to exhale. Students sprawled on the grounds, played pickup Quidditch, lingered in the common rooms. The professors, exhausted from marking, retreated to their quarters and were seen only at meals. For most seventh years, the end of term was in sight—a final week of celebrations, then the graduation ceremony, then the rest of their lives.
But for Edmund, the waiting was different.
He had not received his N.E.W.T. results. None of them had—the results would not arrive until the end of term. But Edmund had received something else: a letter from the Department of Magical Education, informing him that his results would be delayed due to an "administrative review." The Parseltongue revelation had reached the Ministry. They were investigating.
He sat in the Slytherin common room, the letter in his hand, the fire low. The green light of the lake shifted on the walls. His friends were around him, but they did not ask. They had seen the letter. They knew.
"What does it mean?" Cassius asked finally.
"It means they're looking into my bloodline," Edmund said. "Verifying the certificate. Making sure I'm not a dark wizard in disguise."
"That's ridiculous," Arthur said. "You're the least dark wizard I know."
Edmund smiled. "They don't know that."
Horace was quiet, his brow furrowed. "The Gaunts are still around. Not in good shape, but they exist. The Ministry might contact them for comparison."
Edmund had thought about that. The Gaunts—Morfin and Merope and their father, Marvolo. They were the last known Parselmouths in Britain, descendants of Slytherin, but they were reclusive, violent, and deeply disturbed. He had never met them. He did not want to.
"The certificate is legitimate," he said. "The ritual was performed by the Department of Mysteries. They can't dispute it."
"They can try," Astrid said quietly. "The old families have influence. If they don't want a Slytherin descendant claiming a seat on the Wizengamot, they'll find a way to delay."
Edmund looked at her. "You think the old families are behind this?"
"I think they're watching. And waiting." She met his eyes. "You are not just a student anymore, Edmund. You are a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. That changes things."
---
The next morning, a letter arrived from Mr. Thornbury.
*Lord Prince,*
*I have been informed of the Ministry's review of your N.E.W.T. results. This is not unusual in cases involving hereditary claims. The Department of Magical Education is likely seeking to verify your bloodline independently before releasing your scores.*
*I have also been contacted by the Wizengamot's Committee on Hereditary Rights. They wish to schedule a hearing to formally recognize your status as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. This is a procedural matter, but it will require your presence. The hearing is tentatively scheduled for September, after the Hogwarts term ends.*
*Do not be alarmed. This is standard practice. The old families have been known to contest such claims, but your certificate from the Department of Mysteries is ironclad.*
*Yours,*
*Elias Thornbury*
Edmund set the letter down. September. After Hogwarts. They were not trying to block him—they were trying to delay. To make him wait.
---
Professor Dumbledore found him in the library that afternoon. He sat across from Edmund without asking, his half-moon spectacles glinting.
"You are troubled," he said.
"I am waiting."
"Waiting is often the hardest part of any journey." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I have been informed of the Ministry's review. I have also been informed of the Wizengamot's hearing. Both are... predictable."
"You expected this?"
"I expected that your revelation would cause a stir. Parseltongue is not a gift that is easily accepted. There are those who will see it as proof of dark intentions, no matter how noble your actions." He paused. "But there are others who will see it as proof of something else. Something older. Something that has been missing from the wizarding world for a long time."
Edmund frowned. "What do you mean?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Hope, Mr. Prince. The belief that the old bloodlines are not all corrupt. That the legacy of Slytherin can be redeemed." He stood. "Do not let the waiting consume you. Your time at Hogwarts is almost over. Spend it with your friends. You will miss them when they are gone."
He walked away. Edmund watched him go, then turned back to his book.
---
The days passed. Edmund walked the grounds with his friends, sat by the lake, watched the giant squid surface and dive. He did not think about the Ministry, or the Wizengamot, or the hearing. He let himself be a student, for the last time.
Katerina Volkov found him on the grass near the edge of the lake. She sat beside him without asking.
"Your results are delayed," she said. "I heard."
"Yes."
"The Durmstrang delegation leaves next week. I will return to the north." She looked at him. "You have been a worthy rival, Edmund Prince. I am glad to have competed against you."
Edmund smiled. "I am glad to have competed against you too."
Katerina stood. "Perhaps we will meet again. In the tournament, or elsewhere." She walked away.
---
Colette found him in the library the next day. She sat across from him, her dark eyes sharp.
"The Ministry is afraid of you," she said.
Edmund looked up. "Afraid?"
"Of what you represent. A Slytherin descendant who is not a dark wizard. It challenges their assumptions." She leaned forward. "At Beauxbatons, we are taught that the old bloodlines are not destiny. You have proven that. Do not let them make you forget."
She left. Edmund sat in the library, her words echoing in his mind.
---
The last week of term arrived. The final task of the Triwizard Tournament was still weeks away—it had been moved to August, to accommodate the N.E.W.T. schedule. Edmund had time. He used it to prepare.
He returned to the Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk coiled at the base of the statue. The creature's yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness.
*You are troubled, Heir*, it hissed.
"Not Heir," Edmund said. "Not yet. Just a descendant."
*Blood is blood. The ring knows. The trial knows. You are the Heir, whether the world recognizes it or not.*
Edmund touched the ring on his finger. It was warm, pulsing with a soft, silver light.
"I need to prepare for the final task," he said. "The forest will be dangerous."
*The forest has always been dangerous. You have faced worse. You will survive.*
Edmund nodded. He spent the next hour practicing spells, refining his techniques, preparing for the unknown.
---
The day before the final task, Edmund received a letter from Professor Marchbanks.
*Mr. Prince,*
*Your N.E.W.T. results have been released. The Ministry's review concluded that there is no basis for further delay. Your scores are enclosed.*
*Congratulations. You have achieved what no student has achieved before.*
*—Minerva Marchbanks*
Edmund opened the envelope. The parchment inside was heavy, embossed with the seal of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.
*Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests – Results*
*Edmund Prince, Slytherin*
*Charms: Outstanding*
*Transfiguration: Outstanding*
*Potions: Outstanding*
*Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding*
*Herbology: Outstanding*
*Ancient Runes: Outstanding*
*Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding*
*Arithmancy: Outstanding*
*Magical Theory: Outstanding*
*History of Magic: Outstanding*
*Alchemy: Outstanding*
*Healing Magic: Outstanding*
*Wardcraft: Outstanding*
*Divination: Exceeds Expectations*
*Muggle Studies: Exceeds Expectations*
Thirteen Outstandings. Two Exceeds Expectations. He had done it.
He folded the parchment and tucked it into his journal. His friends were waiting in the common room.
"The results?" Cassius asked.
Edmund nodded. "Thirteen Outstandings."
Cassius stared at him. "Thirteen. You took fifteen subjects and got thirteen Outstandings."
"Divination and Muggle Studies were never my strongest."
Arthur laughed. "Only you would be disappointed by Exceeds Expectations."
Horace was already calculating his own scores. Astrid sat quietly, her rune stones in her hands. She smiled.
"Congratulations, Edmund," she said. "You earned it."
---
The final task was tomorrow. Edmund lay in his bed, staring at the canopy above him, the green light of the lake shifting on the ceiling. The ring was warm on his finger. He thought about the past seven years—the first day at Hogwarts, the friendships he had forged, the trials he had faced. He thought about the Register, the school, the children he was trying to find. He thought about the basilisk, traveling through the dark earth toward the Prince estate. He thought about the Philosopher's Stone, hidden in his pocket, waiting to be understood.
He was not the same boy who had entered Hogwarts as a first year. He was not even the same person who had faced the seven gates. He was something new—something that was still becoming.
He closed his eyes and slept.
---