He looked at the scorch marks on his floor, the last remnants of his diary. At least now he knew why the horcrux spell failed; with no murder, his soul would not have fragmented itself, and thus there was nothing for the vessel to hold. In fact, he mused, he was quite lucky that his entire soul did not pass into the diary, which would have rendered his physical body as dead as if he had been hit by the killing curse.
He still did not know why the Ravenclaw hadn't been killed by the Basilisk, and that ate at him most of all. It was impossible for any human (save himself, naturally) to take the brunt of the Basilisk's stare and live. If Myrtle had some secret power he did not know about...he almost dismissed the idea. He knew the witch (a year younger than him), and how pathetic she was. One of his fellow Slytherins, Olive Hornby, took a particular delight in humiliating the girl with taunts, a practice Tom had abandoned long ago as immature and unconstructive. Your opponents did not learn to fear and respect you if all you did was insult them, after all.
It was rather pointless to think about how she survived at all at this point in time. Myrtle lay Petrified in the hospital wing, along with the several other students who had fallen victim to the Basilisk.
The Basilisk...
Tom decided that he could not unleash the serpent's fury anymore...this year, at least. Dumbledore's suspicion was too great, and he could not risk elevating the old man's paranoia any further. Framing Hagrid would be pointless, as well -- given Hagrid's temperament toward magical creatures and the lack of actual deaths, he would merely be severely punished, instead of expelled and jailed.
Coming back to the problem of Myrtle, he did not know how much she knew. It was quite possible she didn't recognize his voice as he spoke to the Basilisk, but he had to be sure. He had to think of a way (once she was un-Petrified) to sneak into the hospital wing, interrogate her, and then kill her if necessary.
After pondering the situation some more, he decided he actually preferred that Myrtle hadn't died. He had been nowhere near ready to actually kill one of the Mudbloods or blood traitors yet (despite the plan he had improvised moments after her 'death'), and his plans could continue as he had calculated now.
All that remained to do was wait until the mandrakes matured so that the Mandrake Restorative Draught could be made, and then he and Myrtle could have a talk.
XXXX
"Hello, Myrtle."
Myrtle awoke as Tom spoke and tapped her with his wand.
"Tom! You came to see me! I knew you would!" She leapt out of bed to embrace the Slytherin,
A horrified look appeared on Riddle's face. "Off me, Mudblood!" he commanded. Myrtle obeyed, withdrawing, but a seductive smile on her face.
"Tom, you have such cute pet names," she giggled. Tom felt bile rise in his throat.
"Myrtle, I must know, what happened in the bathroom?" he asked her, direct as always.
"Well, I heard a boy talking...it was a funny sort of talking, a bit raspy, you know? Anyway, I threw open the door of my stall to yell at him...like I used to do to you..." She smiled again at him, remembering fondly their early meetings. "And then I saw those eyes...those glittering eyes...how ghastly! And then I woke up here this afternoon, when they gave me the draught."
Riddle puzzled over Myrtle's words. If she spoke the truth (and Tom had no doubt she was), then she had not consciously done anything to protect herself. And she did not recognize Tom as the 'boy' she had heard. He decided to probe further.
"Myrtle, there have been some hints as to the monster that's been attacking students. The Petrifications, the slain chickens, the spiders fleeing the castle...it seems we might have a Basilisk on our hands."
Myrtle gasped. "How grotesque!" she uttered. "...Er, what's a Basilisk?"
Tom rolled his eyes and explained the basics to her: Giant, poisonous snake with looks that kill.
"Dreadful! And you think that's what Petrified me?"
Tom nodded. "But the thing is, Myrtle, if you had seen its eyes, then it should have killed you outright!"
"Oh...well, I don't know what to say about that...maybe blood protected me."
"Blood?" Tom grew very interested. Was Myrtle about to reveal...?
"You know, blood wards, protection of the mother?"
Tom looked blank.
"Oh, take an Arithmancy class sometime," she chided. "A mother can spare her child's life if she sacrifices her own."
"So...your mother's death protected you?" Tom asked.
"What? No!" Myrtle shook her head. "Tom, haven't they told you anything?"
"Told me what?"
Myrtle burst into a big smile. "Tom...I'm pregnant!" She embraced him again.
For once in his life, Tom Riddle was too stunned to push her off, to speak, to even think.
Pregnant.
The blood of Slytherin.
Of course.