Chapter 36

Have You Seen Myrtle?

The fresh summer air began to slowly drift in as it became June. Although, no student at Hogwarts could properly enjoy this beautiful breeze, as everyone felt their lives were in mortal danger. Thanks to Tom, the school year was an absolute, chaotic hell. No month went by quickly and breezily. He'd filled everyone with immense fear and mass paranoia. People were being attacked inside the school and no one could explain who or what was responsible for it. Tom was not even being remotely suspected. After all, who would suspect the smart, charming Prefect? Since, he no longer had any research to fill his spare time and felt he no longer needed to study for the upcoming O.W.L.S, he spent most of his time trying to weed out all the muggleborns for the Basilisk. Being a Prefect, it was even easier to get the information he wanted, and he was able to work around the new restrictions in a snap. It was almost too easy. Tom had started write threatening messages on the corridor walls in red paint after an attack, just to have a little bit of thrill in all of this.

"Mudbloods, you will all perish."

It was kind of stupid. He knew that he shouldn't treat the matter like a game, but it'd been so long since he'd been able to stretch out from under Dumbledore's grasp. It'd been even longer since he'd been out of Frankie's. She often held him back from being that boy with an uncontrollable urge to cause havoc and make people just as miserable. Although, he certainly had a hatred for muggleborns, this tyrant rampage was more of excuse to indulge in those destructive tendencies he'd been forced to suppress for their sakes.

Despite all the warnings and the signs, instead of closing down the school, the teachers had put the school on a strict lockdown for the past few months. There were no more trips to Hogsmeade. No wandering the castle alone without a teacher or Prefect. Students were confined to the dorms most hours and there was very strict after dark security. They were probably hoping to trap the culprit in the school, so they'd have nowhere to run, but little did they realize they were actually sealing the grim fate of every muggleborn student there. The castle was vast, but there was nowhere they could possibly hide from him and the Basilisk if they weren't allowed to leave.

However, despite the lockdown, if you were clever enough, you always found a way out. Especially, if you had somewhere you needed to be on Sundays.

"There was another attack yesterday."

She had said that and yet Frankie was blatantly disregarding the new restrictions that were supposed to keep her from being attacked right at that very moment. Of course, it's not like she was under any threat, even though she was currently shoulder-to-shoulder with the culprit this very moment as well. The two were sunken down at the base of the tree on their normal Sunday walk. They had not yielded one, since the new rules had been invoked.

"Really? You don't say? How dreadful…" Tom remarked, trying too hard to sound rather clueless. He was attempting to hold back a secret little smirk that was growing on his face. Tom knew very well that there was an attack yesterday. Not only was it in a buzz around the school, but he was the one who had ordered it. He'd recently discovered that Nero Lawson, a Hufflepuff in their year, was a Mudblood and had made plans to eradicate him immediately. It just took one whisper to his precious pet and Nero was gone.

Well, that was how it was supposed to go, anyway. The truth was Tom had not actually killed any muggleborns yet. The Basilisk eyes were supposed to kill anyone who ever met its yellow gaze and yet all these Mudbloods were just ending up petrified. Tom would have loved to investigate, but it was not like he could be at a crime scene as it was happening. He couldn't risk getting caught. It wouldn't just be a simple slap on the wrist, he'd be sent to the wizard jail. He wasn't about to spend his whole life in Azkaban for listening to a monstrous snake.

"I'm just glad he wasn't killed." Frankie sighed. She didn't know it, buts she inadvertently had just said she was happy he was a failure. Tom grew a small scowl.

"Why?" Tom asked, trying his best not to sound affronted. He looked at her like she was crazy. How dare she be concerned about that Mudblood. "Were you actually friends with him?"

"Not really."

"So, why care about a stranger?"

"He wasn't a stranger! He's was our classmate. Even though I didn't really know him personally, it doesn't mean I shouldn't care," she argued. Tom saw her slight point, but all-in-all he still thought he was right. Nero was pretty much a stranger and she shouldn't be caring about his well-being. "It's been months now and there still aren't any leads on who, or what, is causing all of this. It won't be too long till someone dies, Tom. I just know it."

"Stop worrying." he commanded. He didn't want her anywhere near this matter, nor for her to even think on it for more than a minute. Not only was it rather gross and ugly business, but if Frankie went sticking her nose into this, she'd be able to figure out who the culprit is in a heartbeat. She already had background knowledge of the Basilisk, which was sadly a lot more information than the teachers had so far. She'd need to be disposed of, if she found out the truth, which was the last thing Tom wanted to have to do.

"I can't. What if it—"

"I can guarantee you and I won't be attacked."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

Well, having a strong relationship with the Heir of Slytherin sure helped. Tom couldn't say that. He didn't want to say it was because of her blood, which immediately was what came to mind. Her pure and beautiful blood. With those two reasons combined, she was as safe as any Slytherin. Tom would probably attack some of his own "friends" if their blood wasn't purer then his.

He needed a distraction from the question. It was too risky to answer it. His eyes had shifted to the black leather-bound book, lying on the grass beside her. He was hoping to have it be a book he had read, so he could strike up conversation about it, but Tom had never seen that book before. It must have been one of the mystery books she "found" in that unused classroom that she kept hiding from him. This one had a title which made his eyes stick to it immedietly.

Secrets of the Darkest Art

Tom went from his strange silence and suddenly sprang into action, leaning over Frankie to grab the book. She immediately went into a state of confused embarrassment, until she realized what he had been after. Upon seeing the book in his hand, she quickly removed her wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" It started to drift from his hand a little, but Tom held tight to it and she didn't have enough power lift him along with it. She'd need to try something else.

"Locomotor Wibbly!"

He became weak at the knees, but his arms were still clutched tightly in his arms. Realizing he would not be stopped so easily, she dropped her wand and physically tried to pull him away. Tom managed to keep off the attack and extract his own wand. He put up a shield charm between them and Frankie was repelled back.

"Call off the minor jinxes already. I'm not giving it up."

"You mustn't read it, Tom! It's a terrible book. I shouldn't have left it out." Frankie exclaimed, desperately. However, despite her book review, he opened it up and glanced at the contents.

"Terrible, indeed…" Tom remarked. He'd opened to a page near the middle and his eyes were intently transfixed on the pages with far too much intrigue. Horcruxes. That was a new term to him, and he was curious as to why the picture depicted a man in deathful agony, his fingers clutched onto a silver goblet for dear life.

"Then, please stop. Please..."she begged, sounding even more desperate. Tom glanced up for a moment to meet her gaze beyond the invisible barrier he'd put between them. Frankie was staring at him with a painfully serious expression and for a split second he felt the need to return it back.

"Stop worrying, Frankie. It's just a peek. Purely for study. I assume that's why you still have it." he reasoned, flashing her a charming smile to get her to yield. A book like this was not meant to be in the goody witch's possession anyway. "I'm not mad enough to attempt anything. I just want a look."

The book was filled with many dark things, even darker than the others he had stolen glances of in the past. How to curse objects, techniques to perfecting the Three Unforgivable Curses, but the one that seem to catch his eye the most were Horcruxes. It was a brilliant concept, if it actually worked. A safekeep for your soul in case your body was ever destroyed. With something like this, one might even achieve something as impossible as immortality. Tom kept re-reading the spell, until the shield charm faded, and Frankie managed to swipe it back from him. She looked down at the particular pages with piqued interest, wondering what caught his attention so much, and made a face of absolute disgust.

"Horcruxes are the worst things I've found in this book. It's repulsive to think someone would use their magic that way." she fumed, angrily.

"But, if you have one you cannot die—"

"That doesn't matter. You're taking someone else's life just to preserve your own for a little longer. It's wrong, Tom. Surely, you must see that." Frankie argued, glaring at him with contempt. The good witch wouldn't take any reasons he could give her into consideration. Her mind was made up, so he wouldn't even bother to make the effort to try to change it.

"Of course, you're right." Tom answered. "Only a true monster would ever attempt something like that."

Frankie ranted on and on how she planned to dispose of it and all the books, so that no one else can be exposed to their wickedness ever again. There was something in there about the Room of Requirement, or something. He honestly wasn't really paying attention to her mad ramble on how the books were pure evil and she was going to burn them all. Tom was busy burning the spell to make a Horcrux into his mind. It wouldn't matter that she wouldn't let him read it again or destroyed it. Now, he had the drive he needed to actually kill a muggleborn. It said the splitting of the soul would be painful, but he knew if he succeeded he would be a step closer to immortality. A bit of pain couldn't compare to not being able to truly die. Now, it was the question of what object to place the bit of his soul in and which muggleborn was going to die so he could do so.

Slightly knowing Tom wasn't paying attention to her, she suggested they returned to the castle early and he obliged. They walked up carefully, snuck their way through the greenhouses, past Beery on patrol, and on towards the main stairs. Suddenly, they heard a loudly unpleasant whistle and turned around to see Pringle behind them.

"What are you two doing out?" Pringle shouted, sending several fat globs of spit in their direction.

"I was on patrol and I found this girl sneaking around the greenhouses, claiming she left one of her textbooks. I'm escorting her back to her common room and will be alerting her head of house, shortly." Tom stated, calmly. He and Frankie had come up with excuses on the off chance they ever got caught. Unfortunately, Frankie was not given the special responsibilities and freedom that Tom got as Prefect, so they had to figure out a different angle. They even threw in a couple of glares at each other for the dramatic Gryffindor-Slytherin effect. Pringle examined the shiny Prefect badge pinned to Tom's chest very closely, until he was seemingly satisfied.

"Alright, hurry it up then." They gave each other knowing looks of victory as they turned and ascended the staircases to the seventh floor. A few minutes and several moving staircases later, they arrived at portrait of the Fat Lady. She was looking extremely distressed and jittery, jumping up almost completely out of her frame upon Tom and Frankie's arrival.

"Ms. Dickson! Now, more than ever, you can't bring him up here! They say the culprit could even be a student and, for all we know, it could be him." the Fat Lady exclaimed, glaring at Tom. The Fat Lady always suspected Tom was the culprit when something dastardly was going on. One year, she blamed him for a mysterious disappearance of shrubs on a painting on the fourth floor. She thought he was a deviant and saw through his charming façade, most days. Then, there were other days she was giving him love advice he didn't want and treating him far too kindly. "All it takes is one good slash to my canvas and I'm history. Then, who would protect the common room? Everyone in Gryffindor would be in danger. Please won't you be more careful."

"I'm really sorry. The term is almost over. I promise you won't have to worry about many more Sunday sneak outs. Lilacspiritous!" Frankie remarked. She waved goodbye to Tom and climbed into the portrait hole. The Fat Lady started muttering about how she needed to change the password, when Tom decided he might as well reward her for being the only one right about him.

"Is that all it takes to get rid of you? I'll keep that in mind…"

"MS. DICKSON, COME BACK! HE JUST THREATENED ME."

Tom gave a satisfied smirk at the paranoia he gave the annoying painting and walked back down the staircases to his own common room. He tried to sooth is head in the silence as he walked through the student-less corridors to the Slytherin common room. The Fat Lady had given him yet another headache and, if his roommates were acting in their usual manor, they'd only make it worst. Tom took the secret shortcut leading from Hieroglyphic Hall to get past Dumbledore on watch. For some reason, he always was patrolling the dungeons. He quickly gave his common room's password, "Sanguis vita est." and slipped in. Unlike with the Gryffindor's random jumbles of nonsense words, their passwords were always intelligent and relevant. This one meant "Blood is life".

"Where were you, mister Dark Lord? Off attacking more Mudbloods." Lestrange asked, nonchalantly, as Tom entered their room.

"Bite your tongue, Lestrange. Don't speak of the matter with such casualty." Tom scolded, sounding like a strict parent rather than their ruthless leader. Yes, he had told them of his heritage and his quest. They were his "friends" after all. Being the Heir of Slytherin, naturally made him have even more power over them all. He was practically their king now.

"So, who're you attacking next, Tom?" Avery inquired. All of them turned to Tom for the answer. No doubt they were all generally interested in his work, they were all eager for the knowledge. However, were not willing to work for it. He didn't know what he was thinking by telling them, honestly. They were pretty much useless.

"Yes, won't you tell us, Tom?" Peter asked, probably just to seem like one of the crowd. Tom had suspicions about Peter's actual thoughts on the terrorizing of Mudbloods. However, unless he wanted a fifty-foot snake after him, he'd keep his own ideas to himself.

"I'm sure he wrote it in his journal. Grab it, Peter." Lestrange ordered, pointing in the direction of Tom's bedside table.

"Touch it and you lose a hand." Tom hissed, grabbing the journal from the table with slight haste. Yes, it did have all his secret notes and doodles. But, it was more of the fact he didn't want those people touching the only Christmas gift Frankie could ever afford to get him. It was somewhat of value to him. He took one last glare at them all, before getting under his covers to block them out. He didn't care that he was still fully dressed and obsessively clutching a journal in one hand. Curling up under the plush emerald covers was the only thing he could do to get away from them in here. He'd skip supper and take a nap, before Prefect night patrol, praying he felt better when he awoke. "Nobody speak to me for the rest of the night. You idiots are giving me a headache..."

While Tom was curled up in bed, Frankie had decided to go to the library with a group of Gryffindors going on a study expedition that had been approved by Dumbledore. She had a Charms essay and a study guide for Potions that were due soon, might as well get them done now. Quickly, she stuffed a bunch of books and rolls of parchment in her bag and joined the departing group to the library. When she got there, she grabbed an empty table near the back and spread out all her books across the surface to prevent anyone from sitting with her. She didn't want any distractions. After Frankie had finished setting them all out, she suddenly noticed she had accidently placed Secrets of the Darkest Art had amongst the selections. It was the only one of her wicked books that had the title on the cover and certainly someone was bound to recognize the selection. She let out a small audible gasp and quickly rushed to remove it before anybody else noticed. Unfortunately, the librarian, Madam Domitille Myriadd, had noticed Frankie suspiciously stuffing a book into her bag and came over immediately to grab it without question. Madam Myriadd opened it and, naturally, gasped as well.

"Did you steal this?" she asked, giving Frankie a rather frightening stern look.

"No. I—"

"Don't lie to me girl." Madam Myriadd snapped. She reminded Frankie in that moment heavily of Mrs. Cole. Cold gaze, arms crossed, blaming her for something she didn't do. "This book is supposed to be chained up in the restricted section!"

"I didn't take—" Frankie tried arguing, but Madam Myriadd merely put up a finger to silence her this time. She didn't want to hear any of her petty excuses.

"What's going on here?"

Dumbledore had appeared behind them and was looking at the scene with curiosity behind his half-moon spectacles. He had probably just entered the library, to govern and watch over the Gryffindors while they studied, when he heard the commotion happening over at the table. The whole library could probably hear Madam Myriadd's deranged shouting.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore. You have such excellent timing. One of the students from your house has stolen a book from the restricted section." Madam Myriadd answered, handing him the book. Dumbledore merely looked at the book with a blank and vacant expression.

"Come with me."

Every muscle felt like it was petrified, and she wished in this moment just to drop down and be in a comatose state for the rest of the year like all the others in the hospital wing right now. Thieving was not tolerated at Hogwarts and that's what Dumbledore thought she'd done. She could get kicked out of school, or worse. He might take the contents of the book and think she is the one attacking the other students. Frankie reluctantly scooped up the rest of her books into her bag and Dumbledore led her out of the library. They walked along the crowded corridors in silence, until they arrived at his office.

"Professor, please believe me! I didn't take it. I found it in the Room of Requirement last year." Frankie blurted out, the second she shut the door behind them. Actually hearing it said out loud, it sounded ridiculous. She sunk down into the student chair and readied herself for a fitting punishment.

"Did you take any others from the room?" Dumbledore asked, calmly taking up the seat at his own desk and setting the book down upon it.

"Um…yes...I believe there are six more, sir." Frankie replied, sounding rather confused. Did he actually have faith in her? Did he believe her ludicrous story?

"Did you read this one?" he inquired, picking up the book again.

"Yes."

"—And what did you think about it?"

"I think it's the vilest piece of literature ever written. Whoever hid it in that room was right to do so," she snapped, angrily. She had to hold herself back from going on a rant like she had out on her walk with Tom. "Of course, I would have destroyed it, if I were them."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, as if she just hadn't said something horrible about it. "Everything seems to check out fine. I'll let you go off now, but I just have one more question."

"Okay."

"Have you let anyone else read this book?" Dumbledore asked. Frankie paused. She had let one other person read it, but it was no big deal. It was only Tom and he would never actually attempt anything in that book. If she told this to Dumbledore, though, Tom would get in a lot more trouble considering he was a Prefect.

"No one, sir."

Frankie was simply dismissed for supper after that with no further line of questioning. She left Dumbledore's office and started to head towards the Great Hall, nervously shaking a bit. The thing was you couldn't lie to Dumbledore. It wasn't possible. He always knew when someone was lying and usually just went along with the lie knowing the truth would come out eventually. It always did.

Supper wasn't very pleasant for Frankie. She got so jumpy and could barely hold a spoon to eat a bowl of soup. It was like she was afraid of Dumbledore coming up behind her at any moment to call her bluff. Frankie was walking with a rather large crowd that had decided to be finished, still in a kind of worried daze, when she bumped into someone's back. It hadn't been her fault. The individual had decided to stop in the middle of the corridor. Frankie looked up and saw Hagrid, holding a napkin filled with food bits and muttering something to himself.

"Hagrid?" Frankie remarked, trying to smile and appear normal. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I haven't seen you around lately."

"That's because you still have detention for raising those werewolf cubs under your bed."

"Ah, I don't see what the big fuss was about. Sweet creatures, they were." he argued. Frankie let out a small chuckle. She fondly remembered the frosty morning she and Hagrid found the cubs at the edge of Forbidden Forest. They took to Hagrid right away and ended following him up to the castle. Everyone in the house loved them and they really were sweet but being cooped under Hagrid's bed did have some negative side effects to them.

"I know, but I don't think that'll change the fact that they destroyed Merrythought's office," Frankie reasoned. "So, what's with the scraps?"

"I suppose I could show ya. It would be nice for him to get some socializing done, don't want him growing up being anti-social," he muttered, to himself more than her. "Promise me ya' won't go telling anyone about this, got it?"

"I got it." she answered back. Slowly, they made their way downstairs to the dungeons, keeping eye for anyone that could be on patrol. Thankfully, everyone seemed to still be at supper. They soon arrived at a small dungeon door and went inside to a dimly lit stone room. It seemed normal and empty, except for a large wooden crate in the center. Slowly, Hagrid opened the crate and peered inside.

"Aragog, I brought some company today!" Hagrid reported, cheerfully, down to whatever was inside. Frankie heard no answer, just a series of rapid clicking. Curiously, she walked over beside Hagrid and looked down to see into the box. A spider a bit bigger than a small dog stared back at her with its eight beady black eyes. "Isn't he just beautiful?"

"Hagrid is that a—"

"Yep, an Acromantula. Got him off a traveler I met in Hogsmeade during one of the trips, before they got canceled."

Most people would have screamed "Monster!" and ran to go find the nearest teacher. However, Frankie thankfully wasn't like most people and her affinity for magical creatures made her the ideal person to deal with a spider this size.

"Wow! A real Acromantula! I've never seen one before."

"You can pet him if ya' like," Hagrid added, sensing she was a bit hesitant despite her love of magical creatures. You could love a creature and find them fascinating. It doesn't necessarily mean you want to get that close with them, especially if they were a class XXXXX monster. "Don't worry his chelicerae aren't too strong, yet. He's only a few months old."

She gently lowered her hand into the crate and Aragog quickly backed away from the hand, as if she was the one that was venomous.

"Come on, Aragog. It's alright." Frankie smiled, calmly. He stared at her with his eight black eyes, with what was probably suspicion. Carefully, he approached her hand and let her pet his back.

"Aw, I think he likes ya," Hagrid beamed, as Aragog clicked at her. "All right then, time for food Aragog! Would you like to help?"

"Yes!" She pulled down her skirt a little, to make extra sure the creature wouldn't unpleasantly touch her legs, and Hagrid placed him on her lap. The two sat talking for some time, while Aragog nibbled little bits of chicken out of their hands. Suddenly, after a while, they heard footsteps, and someone came bursting through the door.

"Excuse me, students shouldn't be—Oh."

Tom was about to give one of his usual uptight Prefect speeches but stopped immediately when he saw Frankie sitting there staring at him in confusion with her large hazel eyes. Not only was he shocked by her sudden appearance, but she had a giant spider occupying her lap and was sitting next to that half-breed, oaf, Rubeus Hagrid, from two years below.

"Good evening, Tom." Frankie smiled, normally, as if she didn't have a giant spider sitting on her lap. "Hagrid, this is my friend, Tom Riddle."

"I'm Rubeus Hagrid." Hagrid greeted, holding out his free, foodless hand for Tom to shake.

"I know. I was one of the Prefects that had to clean up your little werewolf cub situation." Tom replied, coldly neglecting to shake his hand.

"Sorry bout' that. They were usually so well behaved." Hagrid laughed.

"I'm sure they were," Tom added, with high amounts of sarcasm in his voice. He scoffed at the new creature before him. "I see you've found something else to replace them..."

"I know it's against the rules, but please don't tell the teachers, Tom!" Frankie exclaimed, seeming to know what he was thinking. She, Hagrid and the spider all gave him pleading puppy dog eyes, begging him not to. If only she hadn't been there, he would have just turned Hagrid in. It would've saved everyone from yet another catastrophic situation and give his reputation a boost. With every good deed he did, suspicion grew farther away that he was really behind the true evil. It didn't matter, though. Hagrid was a fool; he'd be caught soon enough.

"Fine, I won't tell. Just don't let it go loose around the castle," Tom responded, turning away from the begging eyes. "Now, you two should be going back to your common room."

"Of course." Frankie answered, getting up and let Aragog scurry onto Hagrid's lap instead.

"Why don't you go on ahead? I'm going to stay just a bit longer." Hagrid replied, despite what Tom said being a command not a suggestion. Tom wasn't about to force him to come along when he realized that this meant he once again had an excuse to walk with Frankie back to Gryffindor common room.

"Come along then, Frankie." Tom added, gesturing her to follow him out the door. He and Frankie walked through the dark torch lit corridors in silence for a while.

"Aragog is a real Acromantula, Tom! Can you believe it?" Frankie reported, suddenly, clearly still amazed about the monster. Knowing her, if he introduced her to the Basilisk, she'd try and snuggle up with it.

"That thing has a name."

"Of course, he has a name." After some skillful teacher dodging and several sets of stairs, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady a few minutes later. Since it was the second time Tom had visited today and it was after hours this time, naturally, she was in one of her moods again.

"What are you doing out so late? You were supposed to be in the common room five minutes ago!" the Fat Lady yelled at Frankie. Tom plugged his ears in preparation for the oncoming rant. "And you! I told you not to come here anymore. Go away! Shoo!"

"Lilacspiritous!" Frankie shouted. The Fat Lady was forced to swing open and let her inside. She said goodbye to Tom and hastily walked through the ranting portrait. She could vaguely hear her shouting at Tom, as she was closing the door.

"Oh, look what you did. Now, I must change the password," the Fat Lady shouted at Tom, even though Frankie was the one who had said it. If she was going to yell about it, she could've changed it from the last time he came around.

"Don't think that Prefect badge changes a thing. I know you're still full of trouble!"

The next day was the last day of lessons before the exams and O.W.L.S started. Everyone was waking up with even more stress and complaining than usual. All except for Tom. He woke up with a fantastic idea of what object to make into a Horcrux. How'd he come up with it? Well, waking with the object in clutched in hand sure helped. He had fallen asleep protecting his journal from prying eyes again. It obviously meant something to him if he found the need to protect it to such an extent. Now, it was just the task of finding the next foolish muggleborn to sacrifice.

First period, Tom was off to Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws, while Frankie was off taking Care of Magical Creatures with anyone crazy enough to still be continuing with that elective. The teacher, to Tom's knowledge, was about as mediocre as the subject. Frankie said he sometimes started class thirty minutes early, threw books randomly at students, even if they were paying attention, and would suddenly jump up on student's desks in the middle of lecturing. Since he was so unpredictable, Frankie had to take extra measures to assure she was successful. Normally, he would've caught up with her after breakfast and walked with her on his way to the second floor, however, she brushed him off claiming Kettleburn needed her to catch fifty Bowtruckles for the examinations tomorrow.

What normally would've been a slight inconvenience to him worked in his favor today. He needed to do it soon.

Seeing that dopy, warm smile would make him lose his nerve to do what he needed to do. Tom sat in his seat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, looking up at the dragon skeleton in intentional distraction. He was asking himself stupid questions like "Could the Basilisk's skeleton fit on the ceiling?", counting every single bone, anything that could take his mind away. Then, Professor Merrythought started to call roll and the distraction became easier.

"Ms. Warren? Where's Madeline?" Merrythought asked, looking in the direction of the Ravenclaws for answers. Tom suddenly flinched up and looked towards the empty seat with the rest of the class. Madeline was not sitting beside and her twin brother, Magnus. Tom knew he hadn't put her in the hospital. They were purebloods. Their mother was the Director of Magical Security at the ministry and their father was an Astronomer.

"Family issues. She won't be in today." Magnus replied for her.

"Magnus, you know under the new regime, excuses like that won't slide anymore. I need to know exactly where she is." Professor Merrythought said.

"Fine…" he sighed. Merrythought indicated he did not have to admit to the whole class his family disaster and he followed her outside to talk for a moment. The whole class burst into conversation. Some of it related, some of it not.

"I heard she got in a huge row with their Mudblood sister."

Lyra had taken the opportunity to talk to him on the one subject she knew he'd never talk about with Frankie. No doubt she'd weaseled the information out of Peter, or one of the other boys, about Tom's quest and his status as the Heir of Slytherin. She'd been keeping her distance since the Shrieking Shack incident, but Tom knew she was slowing inching her way back towards him and was still as determined as ever to have him.

"Their what?" he couldn't help but answer. She smiled at the notion of having information Tom didn't.

"Myrtle Warren. She's in the year below us." Lyra replied. Tom had vague memories of a girl with round glasses and dark pigtails being laughed at by a group of Hufflepuffs. They threw multiple jinxes at her and she seemed helpless. He'd broken it up merely because there were teachers in the vicinity, and he wanted to look valiant in their eyes. The girl thanked him and introduced herself as Myrtle. "Madeline told me the whole thing. Their filthy muggle father shacked up with another muggle woman and somehow managed to produce another magical offspring. It's a simply bizarre story."

"Very bizarre…" He felt sorry for the twins, especially sorry for their mother. Although, Tom was sure his father was the apex of muggle bastards, this man came horribly close. He also thought that it was as much as Myrtle Warren's fault. Even though she couldn't help her existence, it was an insult to the wizarding world. How could someone like he possibly have been given magic? What made her worthy of such a thing?

"It would be a shame if something were to happen to her…" Lyra simpered. She wasn't serious but speaking in a two-faced tone Tom knew all too well. Here was another victim for the Heir of Slytherin. The one who deserved to die. She obviously was laying everything out for him, trying to help in a way she knew Frankie couldn't. While he wouldn't say he needed such help, he rewarded her with a polite smile and did not shun her for once.

"I couldn't agree more." Tom exclaimed, with deadly cheer despite the heaviness of the situation. Professor Merrythought and Magnus returned a few moments later. Merrythought's expression was even graver then it'd been when she left the room.

"It appears Mr. Warren doesn't know where either of his sisters are. Anyone with information better step forward."

"I heard someone crying in the girl's bathroom on my way to class," Phoebe Diamas answered, above the hushed whispers. "It's not Madeline though. She's hiding out in the hospital wing, helping Nurse Glinda with the petrified students."

"It must be Ms. Myrtle. Quickly! Someone needs to go get her," Merrythought demanded. Tom smiled and made eye contact, silently indicating he would gladly be a volunteer to go. "Would you mind going, Tom? You're my only prefect left. Prue is actually out sick, and Robert is still petrified."

"But of course…"

A vulnerable, miserable muggleborn, already sitting in his bathroom just one floor down. It was too perfect.

After somehow managing to catch fifty Bowtruckles, Frankie was unexpectedly wandering the second floor, alone. She was curiously looking around in search of the Potions storeroom. Professor Kettleburn had asked her to get an octopus beak, so he could compare it to a Hippogriff's. She didn't even know where the storeroom was and yet he trusted her to go alone. Unlike the other teachers, Kettleburn thought the new restrictions were just simply ridiculous and had absolutely no problem sending his students into possible danger. Frankie had no problem with it either, except she would've liked a better note that actually exempted her from getting into trouble. The one she had just said, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Let's do the octopus. What's that you say?" and had a very crudely drawn map on the back. She was walking by the bathroom, trying to figure out the map, when she heard loud sobs coming from inside. Curious as to the cause, she cautiously entered to find a girl with a mess of thick dark brown hair, curled up into a tight ball on the bathroom floor.

"Are you alright?" Frankie asked, walking over to her. Getting closer she recognized the agonized shrieks as Myrtle Warren. She was the butt of a lot of hurtful gossip fluttering about the school at the moment and could often be heard crying in various places around the castle. Olive Hornby and company liked to call her Moaning Myrtle.

"Go away!" Myrtle shouted, still curled up in a ball. She lifted her hands from her eyes for a moment, to see who she was yelling at, and glared. "Oh, it's you."

"Myrtle, are you—"

"Don't start with that again. I know people like you don't really care about people like me." Myrtle snapped, angrily. "You're just here to tease me till Olive arrives, aren't you?"

"I'm just here to use the toilet," Frankie lied, pushing passed her towards the nearest stall. People like her? What did that mean? She was honestly trying to be nice. For someone who got teased a lot, she was pretty good at judging others. "I don't know what Professor Beery's take on the rules are but, if you're not using the restroom, I'd suggest you go back to class."

Myrtle made an affronted face and then locked herself into one of the stalls. Frankie walked into the stall next to her, unfazed and cold. She had just closed the door when she heard something that was not Myrtle's muffled sobs. At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was just light footsteps stepping on the slightly damp stone floor. Someone else had come here alone. Frankie was about to exit her stall, when she was stopped by a sharp singular hiss and the sounds of loud moving pipes. They moved and creaked ominously before abruptly stopping a few moments later. A conversation bloomed in the new, brief silence. Someone had apparently arrived from the creak of the pipes. Only, instead of words, they continued to bizarrely hiss at one another. The first voice sounded like a young boy on the brim of maturity. Octaves beginning to go deeper with every spoken syllable. The second, who'd only just arrived, was thunderously ancient and old. Something ethereal with far greater power than anyone else in the school.

It was strange, and probably not what she should have been worrying about at the moment, but one the first voice sounded oddly familiar…

Then, she saw something enormous, toxic green, slithering across the floor. Frankie jumped up onto the toilet seat and held up her robes, so whatever it was could not see her. She dug into her pockets and pulled out a bunch of small notes she had made from Most Macabre Monstrosities. Since, Dumbledore had ordered Frankie return all the books that she had taken from the Room of Requirement, she had started taking down bits of information from the books. It was only for future reference. Thankfully, she had taken down the excerpt of what she thought it was. With something that large and with that coloring it had to be…

The Basilisk

There was a fifty-foot, class XXXXX monster in the girl's bathroom at Hogwarts. It sounded insane when Frankie thought about it rationally. But, if it wasn't a Basilisk, what was it? Even in the wizarding world, there wasn't exactly many things that could match the Basilisk's distinct description. That was what it was, and she was surely going to be dead in a few minutes. This had to be what was attacking everyone. Not about to sit there and die, Frankie began trying to formulate a plan. The book had recalled incidents of indirect eye contact merely rendering the foe petrified. That must've been what happened to everyone else. She could clog the toilet and attempt to run across the flooded floor, head down. Only it would take too long to get a decent flood and the Basilisk didn't just have death stares, it had fangs too. She quickly went through her repertoire of five years' worth of defensive spells. Nothing. The sword of Gryffindor might work. However, she wasn't looking for a full-on battle. It'd take more than one good blow to kill this thing. Frankie took a deep breath. There was one option that she could think of. It was the maddest thing she'd ever do. Madder than leaving home on her own at six, madder than grabbing a sword from a dark wizard, madder than stabbing that sword into the belly of a wild beast. It might've even been madder than befriending the boy waiting just outside the door poised to kill. She thrust the stall door open, with the only stupidly viable plan she could think of in the moment.

Run.

Luckily, she was staring at the scaly upper-middle rather than the head. A promising start. The head held more horrors then just a death stare. He was standing there. Frankie climbed atop of the Basilisk and vaulted herself over the other side in one fail swoop. Frankie quickly shut her eyes as she dashed towards the exit. Only when she had made into the hallway did she reopen her eyes. The Basilisk was desperately trying to turn around and get whatever had gotten away, but could not due to the tight space it was in.

Tom was too busy focusing on the crying stall to notice she had been there at all. He hissed for the Basilisk to focus and he knocked politely on the door…

For the moment, she was safe. Frankie ran down the hall to get back to class and get Professor Kettleburn. Surely, senseless as he was, he could handle something this serious. Then once he had been deployed, go and get Professor Merrythought, as well. Suddenly, though she stopped dead in her tracks and audibly gasped. In her mental analysis of the situation, she had forgotten a minor detail.

The Basilisk's head was surely right next to Myrtle's bathroom stall.

Frankie made a U-turn back towards the bathroom, praying she wasn't too late. Any minute classes would get out and flood the bathroom with girls trying to fix their makeup and use the toilet before their next lesson. If she didn't do something fast, everyone else would be in danger as well. Frankie was almost there again, when she saw Tom slowly walking towards her. He was clutching the diary she had gotten him for Christmas years ago, with a creepily satisfied smile on his face. he was looking totally zoned out.

"Tom! You have to come with me immediately. It's an emergency." Frankie insisted, seeming to be ignoring the fact that he didn't look well.

"What's wrong?"

"No time to explain. Just come on, before it's too late!"

She dragged him along through the hall, continuing running toward the bathroom. They arrived in a strangely empty and silent bathroom. A fifty-foot snake couldn't hide. Where was it?

"Myrtle?" Frankie exclaimed, but there was no answer. She looked in the direction of her stall and screamed. The door of the stall open and limp body of Myrtle Warren lay strewn across the floor. Frankie let go of her grip on Tom and ran over to check on Myrtle, in the slight chance she was just barely alive. Tom staggered for a moment, tried to brace himself on the sinks, but then fell to the ground seconds later. Frankie just sat there, very unsure about what she was supposed to do. She had been too late, and the Basilisk was gone. She was sitting between a girl she had left for dead and, unknown to her, her best friend who had just made a Horcrux because of a book she let him read.

Their deaths were her fault.