Author's Note:

I don't own Harry Potter.

Whispers rolled through the student body, but whether these ended in a confrontation or not, Victoria didn't stay to find out. Oh no, she fled the scene as fast as her legs would carry her.

Anyone with half a brain could tell that Potter and Weasley weren't responsible. It just so happened that the former had the worst luck and dragged the latter down with him. After all, they were Gryffindors. If legend was to be believed, the Chamber of Secrets could only be opened by the heir of Slytherin.

And that voice in the pipes. It was moving, and it was moving in the direction where Mrs. Norris was found. But that didn't make sense either. The cat looked like rigor mortis had already set in, and that didn't happen for three to four hours after death - in humans, at least. She wasn't sure about cats. So was Mrs. Norris dead for that long, and her body had been moved to the corridor, or did something else happen to her?

Victoria leaned toward the latter. Which is why, upon reaching her dorm, she reached for the rarely used copy of Most Macabre Monstrosities, and began flipping through the pages quickly. Slytherin's monster had to be a snake (what else), and there was one particular creature that fit the description far too well.

The Basilisk.

There, on page seven-hundred-seventy-seven was a detailed sketch of a large serpent with bulbous yellow eyes, followed by a lengthy description.

"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land -" now wasn't that reassuring " - there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. It's methods of killing are most wondrous -" you don't say "- for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death." Even better. "Spiders flee before a Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of a rooster, which is fatal to it."

It went on to speculate that if the victim had indirect eye-contact with the serpent - like a reflection in a pool of bath water - the said victim may survive, but get petrified instead.

Had this wondrous critter not been out free and threatening to murder students, she would've thought it to be incredibly interesting.

In an awful way, reading this made Victoria feel safe. The victim must've been handpicked by the so-called heir, and it wasn't a teacher because they've all been at school for years, and Lockhart, the newbie, didn't have the guts in him to do anything of this sort. And he was a Ravenclaw. Since none of the students knew about her heritage, she'll be fine.

Except for Theo.

That sobered her up quickly. Merlin, she had to think of something else before she went mad from paranoia.

But her mind wasn't cooperating, and it kept coming back to the voice in the walls. Parseltongue couldn't be learned. It was something few witches and wizards were born with, and all of them in Salazar Slytherin's bloodline. It couldn't be learned. It couldn't even be a result of an animagi transformation. She absolutely could not be his heir. Not unless one of her ancestors centuries ago was, and she got the gene - which was impossible, because biological heredity didn't work like that.

How tragic, a mocking voice in her mind whispered. A witch who doesn't believe in magic.

With a groan, Victoria fell back onto her bed, staring at the murky waters above as she contemplated what to do next. There were blood rituals that could trace wizarding ancestry, but they were considered dark. Not exactly something she'd find at school. That meant she had to either a) ask Malfoy for a specific book, or b) persuade his parents to let her visit so she use their library. The latter would be more productive. The former would spare her from Narcissa Malfoy's pampering.

And then a very obvious idea hit her. So obvious in fact, that she was utterly ashamed that it took so long to grasp it.

While books on dark magic were strictly banned, books on history were not. She could waltz into the Hogwarts library any time and go through all the books detailing the members of every family that was a part of the Sacred Twenty Eight. Surely, even the tiniest relation to Slytherin, direct or not, would've been flaunted.

"Victoria? Oh Merlin, you're here!"

Pansy and Daphne ran inside, shutting the door behind them, and fell on either side of her.

"Don't pull the disappearing act on us again," Pansy said - screeched, more like it. "You missed all the fun! Snape started farming Potty and his pet Weasel for the writing on the wall! Unbelievable, isn't it?"

Victoria hummed.

"I mean they are Gryffindors," Pansy added, echoing the thought Victoria had no too long ago. "And it's not like they have the brains for it -" oh, and you do "- I mean, Potter is a halfblood, and Weasley is… a Weasley."

"Exactly," Victoria said, barely keeping her voice sarcasm-free. "But who would do it? Who's the heir?"

Pansy shrugged, but Daphne opened her mouth as if to say something before shutting it at the other girl's glare with an audible snap. Victoria's interest piqued.

"What is it?" she asked, her authoritative voice working miracles. When Victoria spoke, people listened. And when she had a question, it didn't stay unanswered for long.

"Well," Daphne began uncertainly. "Draco mentioned something this summer… He said that in 1943 the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and a mudblood died. Anyway, a third year Gryffindor was framed, and the heir remained free. Draco's grandfather was at Hogwarts when it happened, and he knew who was responsible. And Lucius Malfoy was at Diagon Alley the day we were there, but Draco didn't tell why. I don't think he knows himself."

Pansy looked at her nails stubbornly. "He didn't want you to know," she said, refusing to meet her gaze.

"So I gathered. Care to tell me why?" Victoria asked, surprised at how much Draco's apparent betrayal stung. Not that she didn't expect it, but still…

"I have no idea who the heir is," Pansy said clenching her fists, "But Lucius Malfoy was the Dark Lord's right hand, and he has his sources. Whatever it was that he was doing - you're in the middle of it, Victoria. And when things happen… Just be on your guard. And know that I'm on your side."

"So am I," Daphne echoed quietly. "But this is on your hands now."

Victoria set aside The Pure-Blood Directory and crossed off 'Selwyn' from the list of surviving families and moved on to the 'extinct/imprisoned' majority. The Pure-Blood Directory, much to her growing paranoia, was written by one Cantankerus Nott some sixty years prior.

It didn't take long to cross out Blacks (whose only surviving members there were in Azkaban) and move on to the Gaunts.

She got through the first paragraph when it became apparent that the family stood out like sore thumbs. If the Blacks were mad about blood-status, they had nothing on the Gaunts.

Aside from the vilest inbreeding she had encountered, this line was poorer than anyone on the list. All of their fortune was gone by the start of nineteenth century, and the only things left were heirlooms rumored to have belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself, though the author stressed that it had never been proven.

Victoria didn't read into the details of the Gaunts' glorious (not her words) past, and flipped to the last page, which listed the members alive in the 1930's.

Marvolo Gaunt, b. c. 1880, Little Hangleton

Victoria's heart skipped a beat. Marvolo. She knew that name.

Quickly, she pulled out school records. Marvolo Gaunt would've been old enough to be Tom Riddle's grandfather (purebloods married young) and if he had a rebellious daughter it would explain the change in surname.

Tom M. Riddle, b. 1927, Wool's Orphanage, London

He was at Hogwarts in 1943. When the Chamber opened and a muggleborn girl died. If he had children, they certainly weren't at Hogwarts.

But he had to be in his sixties now. Sure, wizards aged slow, but still, he wouldn't be able to pass for a student, and with teachers out of the equation, there were only two possibilities. One, he was using Polyjuice Potion to look like someone else. Two, he did what Voldemort did with Quirrell: possessed someone.

At this point, her train of thought went off the rails.

When she first heard the name Voldemort, her mind immediately jumped to it's French meaning: Vol-de-mort. Flight-of-death. And it never mattered, because aside from symbolism the words held no weight. But it was this that allowed her to catch that first 'Vol'.

Like Marvolo.

Frantic, she snatched up a sheet of parchment and began putting together the letters, one by one.

D and E in Riddle. M, O, and T in Tom. Another O in Marvolo. I, A, and M.

What are the odds?

Draco Malfoy was sitting under the vast canopy of a tree, looking over his Potions essay one last time. Theo was next to him, similarly preoccupied. Both boys failed to notice a two-foot long noodle watching them with slitted pupils and eerily familiar eyes.

Victoria was perched on a branch directly over their unsuspecting heads. Her green scales would've stood out amidst the brown, dead leaves, but it was foggy and overcast to the point where it hard to see any further than a foot away from your nose.

"Do you know who did it?" Theo asked suddenly, tapping his quill against the parchment.

Although Victoria couldn't see his expression, she was sure Draco rolled his eyes. "No. All I know is that Father knows. He wouldn't tell me - thinks I'm going to talk."

The witch-turned-snake flicked her tongue lasily. Nope. Not lying.

"But you have to know something. Your Father -"

"My father has his ways," Draco cut off. "I'm not saying it again - I don't know anything except what I told you before. I don't know who the heir is. I don't know what's his - Father did say he - plan is. I don't know who's next. And I sure don't know what Victoria has to do with this."

"You don't think he's after her, do you?"

After I snatched immortality from him? Yes, actually.

Draco barked out a laugh. "Victoria? She's a Slytherin, Theo. She wouldn't be a Slytherin if she was a mudblood."

You have no idea.

"I'm not saying that she is. Just… Forget it. How are things going with Weasley?"

"He searched the Manor twice already. Didn't find anything, of course, but we have a room in the basement full of stuff for dark arts. It's warded with blood magic too."

"Of course. You know, you aren't doing a good job being a confidant here."

"Merlin. It's not like you didn't know. Your Father knew my Father since birth."

"That's not the point."

"I disagree."

"We aren't at a Wizargamot hearing here."

Seeing that the conversation wasn't going anywhere useful, Victoria slowly lowered herself to the ground, slithering to the nearest niche to turn back into her human form.

"'Morning boys," she said brightly as she walked past them. "Breakfast is about to start."

Theo looked at her oddly. "Aren't we chipper today."

"I took two Pepper-Up potions this morning. I'm not chipper - I'm having spontaneous bursts of energy that will stop as soon as Binns says 'goblin rebellion of 1234'."

"There was a goblin rebellion in 1234?"

"When wasn't there a goblin rebellion?"

Theo laughed. "Touche. I can't stand that class."

"Really?" Victoria gasped in mock-horror. "It's one of my favorites."

"How would you know? All you ever do there is sleep."

"That's exactly why I like it."

Draco kept shaking his head slowly during the whole exchange. "I can't wrap my mind around it. You're unconscious the whole time, you never take notes, you never study, and somehow you get perfect grades."

"I read all the textbooks during the summer, and summaries before the exams."

"And you still remember all of that by the end of the year?"

Victoria nodded. "I have a good memory. Besides, that's only useful for History and Potions. Transfiguration is just logic - you don't need the formula if you can figure it out on spot, Defense is instinctual - and it's not like we do anything there. Charms are easy. You don't need a textbook to move plants from pot to pot in Herbology."

"You're crazier than my aunt Bella," Draco said disbelievingly.

"I doubt that," Victoria replied, remembering the picture of the screaming woman behind Azkaban bars. Bellatrix Lestrange, follower of Lord Voldemort. Thank you, Draco.

Victoria took a seat across from Daphne when they got to the Great Hall, saying her hellos as she reached for the sausage. The other girl gave her a small smile as she nibbled on some toast.

"You seem chipper," she said.

"So I've been told," Victoria inclined her head toward the Gryffindor table. "Do you know what happened to the Golden Two?"

Daphne's smile was positively savage. "They? Ooh, Millicent told me that she heard from Tracey Davis, who heard it from Maranne Woodsworth, who heard it from Marcus Flint, who heard it at a prefect meeting that Professor Snape was trying to frame Potter for the attacks and say that Weasley was an accomplice, which is nonsense, but Dumbledore did the whole 'innocent until proven guilty thing' and they got off. Didn't even loose points for not being at the Feast!"

Victoria refrained from pointing out that neither did they.

"Now mind you, no one but Dumbledore and Snape themselves know why they were in the corridor, but the theory is they were heading to their tower from somewhere. Millicent said it was the Forbidden Forest, but I don't think so. They're still alive, aren't they?"

"Unfortunately," Victoria said, sipping her water to keep the amusement out of her voice. Every other person on the table - hell, probably in the whole Hall - had pumpkin juice, but she couldn't stand the stuff. It was too sweet, too thick, and too chunky. How they got it to go down their throats, she had no idea.

The bell rang then, dismissing them for their first class. Defence.

"Wonder what Lockhart has to say about this," Victoria said, pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder. No one felt the need to clarify what this was.

"Reassure us that nothing will happen as long he's here," Draco came up behind them. "And comfort us with another tale of the beasts he slayed."

"Draco!" Daphne chided. "They're not tales. He's actually done these things."

"He couldn't handle pixies, and I've never seen perform anything harder that a levitation charm," Victoria pointed out. "I'm sure these things were done by someone. I'm also sure it wasn't Lockhart."

"He gave us an opportunity to practice."

"How many spells did you throw at the pixies?"

Daphne blushed. "I'm just not good at Defense."

"You just didn't know the right spell, and he just failed to teach to us."

The other girl huffed, but didn't press the issue. Draco looked at Victoria admirably. "You know, you could be a lawyer."

"Thanks."

Please keep reviews coming, because I make no promises not to hold any more chapters hostage.

*hides*

- Salazara