The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last.

While other students were feverishly revising topics they thought would most likely come up in the exams, Tom had been studying something entirely different.

"Tom," Rosier interrupted, "Why did the warlocks of Liechtenstein refuse to join the International Confederation of Wizards?"

Tom looked up from his book, "During the formation of the confederation, Liechtenstein was involved in difficulties with a tribe of particularly vicious tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls. The first Supreme Mugwump Pierre Banoccord had plans to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights. Naturally the warlocks of Liechtenstein contested. A History of Magic. Page 394," he finished.

"Why aren't you writing this all down?"

"It's all up here now," Rosier said tapping a finger to his head. "Thanks, Tom."

Tom rolled his eyes and went back to his book.

"The History of Magic portion is next Thursday. How is it that don't know this by now?" asked Nott. Tom had been wondering the same thing.

A chair was pulled up to their table in the library and they were joined by Abraxas.

"Of course, it's not what you know,"Abraxas said as he lounged on his chair, after slinging his satchel across the back of it.

"What are you going on about now, Malfoy ?" Nott asked annoyed.

"It's who you know," he said loudly. Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years- Griselda Marchbanks- we've had her round for dinner and everything…" He lifted his eyebrows, eager for their response.

Then Mulciber snorted and went back to his book. Tom, with much difficulty restrained from rolling his eyes.

"Forever spewing nonsense, aren't you, Malfoy?" Nott sneered unamused.

Abraxes shrugged. "It certainly won't hurt my chances though, will it?

. . .

Thursday, June 10, 1943

"Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?" asked Abraxes in the Entrance Hall two hours later, crumpling up his exam paper.

None of the fifth-years talked very during lunch. Walburga was practising incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched; Nott was rereading Achievements in Charming so fast that his eyes appeared blurred; and Yaxley kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the biscuits.

After lunch, they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they waited until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake.

Tom's name was called.

"Professor Tofty is free, Tom m'boy. I do suspect there would be no use in trivial pleasantries as wishing you good look, but there you have it anyways," Professor Slughorn told him, as he entered the Great Halls. He pointed Tom towards an examiner sitting behind a small table in a far corner."

"Riddle, is it?" said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Tom as he approached.

"Yes, sir."

"Hogwart's brightest and best, or so I've heard."

He had no problem with any of the written questions and had done flawlessly during the practical examination, performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells.

"Oh, bravo!" cried Professor Tolty when Tom demonstrated a perfect Boggart banishing spell.

"Excellent! Very well, Mr. Riddle, you may go!"

. . .

"How were the Runes, Tom?" asked Abraxes, yawning and stretching as Tom finally entered the room..

He had very nearly come close to mis-translated ehwaz witheihwaz.

"Actually, don't answer that," Abraxes sighed as he fell to his bed.

Tom locked the door.

"Another student was found tonight," he announced as he made his way to his desk and loosened his tie.

That got their attention. They straightened up quickly, the four of them gathering nearer Tom.

"Tell me it was another mudblood," Mulciber said, a gleam in his eyes as he took a swig from his fire whiskey.

Tom nodded.

"Excellent," Rosier crooned.

"And when they were found, were they…?" Abraxes asked.

"Petrified. The boy is in the infirmary with the others now," Tom answered.

"Only petrified? Again?" Mulciber muttered under his breath.

"An attack during O.W.L.s? The professors must have been ecstatic," Rosier drawled sarcastically.

"There will be an announcement tomorrow at breakfast, but exams will continue as scheduled."

"I think… that students may be starting to suspect that the attacker isn't… all human," Nott told them slowly.

"How did you come by this?" Tom demanded sharply.

"I went to the library, all the copies of Hogwart's, A History have been taken out," he told them, "there's a two-week waiting list. Everyone wants it for the same reason, to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that?" asked Rosier quickly.

"That's just it. I can't remember," said Nott, biting his lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else -"

"Salazar's hidden chamber. A horror within the chamber awaits to purge the school of all who are unworthy to study magic," Abraxes interrupted.

"What exactly do you mean by the `horror within' the chamber?" Mulciber asked.

"That would be our attacker, some sort of monster," Abraxes answered.

"A monster? Hogwarts must have been searched for evidence of such a chamber many times. If a long succession of learned witches and wizards haven't found anything, there can't be a claim to it," Nott insisted, "There must be something else we're not seeing."

Tom stayed silent, not confirming any of their theories. If the school believed some sort of monster was behind the attacks, that did not affect his plans. However, if the professors believed the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, they would know that it was more than just a monster behind the attacks…

"An heir alone is able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the horror within." Tom said quietly.

They all looked up.

"An heir, Salazar's heir?" Abraxas wondered. "There is none, not since the Gaunts. And you don't want to know what became of them."

Tom froze. "What do you know of the Gaunts?"

"What. Do you know. Of the Gaunts?" Tom repeated.

"The House of Gaunt was the last line with ties to Salazar. They were once a prominent, wealthy family in the wizarding world. Marvolo Gaunt was the last descendant. He was mentally unstable, squandered his family's fortune and cost it much of its prestige among the pure-blood circles.

He disappeared after that. None of the sacred twenty eight families know what became of him after that." Abraxes finished.

"That's it then," Rosier cut in, "No heir, No chamber. So who's our guy?"

Tom looked around at his friends. For the briefest of seconds, he considered telling them. That he was the heir of Slytherin. That it was a basilisk attacking the mudbloods and that it was he who had released it.

But then the moment passed.

Later. He would tell them later, on some other day. They didn't need to know, not yet. He would keep his secret for now.

"I have a feeling we will be finding out soon. Call it… intuition."

. . .

Tom lay in his bed, the curtains drawn around him. But it didn't block out the hissing coming from inside the walls.

"Kill this time ... let me rip ... tear. . ."