June 13th, 1943

Merissa woke to a strange sagging in her pillow. Opening her bleary eyes she found her jet black cat sitting on it, watching her expectantly. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on her pillow, stroking his glossy fur with a finger, "And where have you been? Go off for days at a time."

She was close to slipping back asleep - another night plagued by thoughts of that, the issue that she refused in name, even in her own mind. He nudged her fingers and she patted him again, "Yes, yes, give me a moment, I'll get you breakfast."

The nudging became more insistent and she went to push him away, but instead her hand made contact with something small and scruffy beside her cheek. Leaping up, she was nearly entangled in her hangings before she could turn to see what it was. Charles was still sitting, unperturbed, on her pillow, a bloodstained mouse presented under a paw. Cursing under her breath, she shooed him away, tossing the mouse into the bin by its tail.

Shuddering she went straight for the shower and was late for breakfast subsequently. Still pulling her damp hair into a plait, she wedged herself between Susan and Abigail at the Ravenclaw table.

"We were about to come check you didn't fall and break your head open in the tub," Susan greeted, taking the last bite of egg from her plate. The Hall was already beginning to clear out for morning classes.

"My cat left a bloody mouse on my pillow, I had to wash off the vermin," Merissa explained, still shaking at the thought as she hastily cramed a muffin into her mouth. She knew she was avoiding other unpleasant feelings and worries in this, but she refused to acknowledge them yet.

"That means he loves you, doesn't it?" Susan snorted.

Merissa's mouth was too full for a polite response so she just rolled her eyes.

As soon as she had managed to swallow down another, Thomas was rising from the table saying, "Come, come, Merissa, we'll be late for Arithmancy. The Slytherins must already be there, they left an age ago."

Although classes passed with usual speed and density of information, Merissa felt she was waiting for something inexplicable. As she observed the rest of her house sag as usual during History of Magic, her own eyes drifted frequently to the clock, in expectancy rather than frustration with its sluggish pursuit. She only had a hint of the source of her anticipation when she ran into Riddle in the corridor as he was exiting Transfiguration.

"Hello, Thorpe," he said, pausing to greet her, eyes uncharacteristically bright.

She gave him an appraising expression and he seemed to realize she was not going to return his greeting so he just winked and walked by her.

Unease was the underlying feeling she was having this morning, and it stemmed all from that, his vague promise that he seemed to be making reference to.

As she entered the que she heard Hornby's horrid giggle, "I mean have you ever seen such hideously thick glasses? She must be blind as a bat. Would explain why I've never laid eyes on her. A face so plain you do remember."

Merissa barely registered the fading cackles from the corridor as she filed into the classroom, past Dumbledore's keen blue stare and into her seat. Beside her, Susan didn't even bother to take out her book before propping her chin against her bag, apparently set on spending the class barely conscious. Only Burke managed to stay entirely upright during these lengthy lessons lately, and it seemed out of pure panic. Merissa chewed on the tip of her quill, gazing with glazed eyes at the chalkboard as the class settled around them and the lesson began. She had begun to droop along with Susan when the hour mark neared, and she couldn't help but feel she was waiting for more than the end of the lesson as she glanced at the silvertime piece on her wrist reflexively.

The faint sound of a scream jerked Merissa's head up. Though at first it seemed only a handful of students heard the sound, the classroom quickly deadened, exchanges of fearful looks validated the sound, sucking away any noise.

Dumbledore stood and strode to the back of the room as the murmurs began. When he opened the classroom door, a growing commotion could be heard.

"Stay here, please," he instructed back to the petrified class, before disappearing into the corridor.

Even as the door closed behind him, the din coming from the corridor became more audible. Merissa stood at once, stricken, as the murmurs began to grow, rising in volume. Naturally, several students rushed out despite their professors warning, hoping to catch some of the action. Merissa followed, panic overtaking her sense.

She felt she was moving very slowly as she descended the stairs, coming closer to where the growing group of onlookers were converging on the second floor landing. Susan reached her side and quickly became an invaluable asset for parting the crowd enough for the two of them to pass through towards the front of the throng. It appeared they had not been the first classroom to hear the sound, nor the closest. Whispers were running like an infection around the crowd, various versions reaching Merissa's ears before she met the edge of the bannister and saw the words herself, written ten feet tall in blood-red, oozing liquid.

The chamber of secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir, beware.

She could do nothing but stare, quite deaf to Susan's rushed whispering into her ear. They were ringing loudly, in fact, she couldn't discern any of the mutterings from the crowd after her eyes met the message. She had been so wrong, so horribly wrong, stupidly wrong. Almost willfully wrong.

Susan had abruptly pulled away and now nudged Merissa very hard in the ribs. She pulled her eyes away from the scene, though not without difficulty. Above them, only by a few steps, Tom had materialized. His expression, however minute, told her everything she needed to know. When he noticed her standing before his chaos he gave her another, less noticeable wink. She wretched her eyes away from him and back to the horrid graffiti, still numb and deaf.

The next wave of whispers was the only thing that penetrated her hearing in fact, coming like the ebb and flow of the sea before it became deafening, the only thing anyone seemed to be saying at increasing volume.

Myrtle Warren was dead in the girl's lavatory.

Merissa clutched the bannister to keep from keeling over. Beside her she heard Susan swear in horror and confusion.

Dumbledore was finally parting the mob, hurrying back from the lavatory, his magically magnified voice breaking the spell, "Prefects, take your students back to their houses. Stay together, do not panic. Heads of houses will join you soon."

The chaos that ensued was unparalleled and every bit as panicked and Dubledore had instructed against. Merissa could hear Thomas hollering her name from somewhere behind her, and Susan had taken up a terribly distraught Abby, but she had no attention for anyone except Tom, still looming over her on the steps, completely unaffected.

"Is anyone else going to be hurt?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. It was drowned out in the madness of the crowd to her own ears, but he seemed to hear her, or at least guess her question.

He held her with black, pitless eyes as if they were quite alone, "I wouldn't worry about your neck, Thorpe. The spilling of such pure magical blood would be incredibly wasteful."

His figure became blurry as her eyes pooled with tears, "You -" she started weakly.

"MERISSA!" she was surprised by Joseph's voice as she was yanked around, hard and in earnest, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER! I AM DEMANDING YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK TO YOUR COMMON ROOM THIS INSTANT, AS HEAD BOY!"

She was absolutely stunned by his volume and passion and was only able to stare before snapping into obedience, finding Thomas in the crowd and beginning to push her way through the throughs, just able to catch him add, "You too, Riddle, this is no time to be idle!"

She didn't hear anymore, her own voice rising above the din, amazed by its ability, "RAVENCLAWS THIS WAY!"

A pair of first years, one shaking and sobbing and the other leading were in front of her at once. Elmer Crouch joined her and brought a small herd of younger students with him as well as she began arranging them into the most orderly line she could manage. She caught Riddle's eyes, glinting as he watched her as if waiting for her to get a joke he had just told. Feeling like she might vomit she ripped her eyes away from him and quickly arranged the Ravenclaws she could find, making quick work of organizing them. Thomas as it turned out was being more of a hindrance than a help, hopping around like a leprechaun in his panic and speaking faster than anyone could hope to understand. Crouch returned with five more students and took charge of the head of the group.

"This is a joke right?" Patrick demanded of her, inserting himself in the front of the line, "Why aren't we going back to class?"

She felt too ragged to have patience for him, "No, it's not a joke. Would you get out of my way, Burke? For fucks sake."

He gave her an affronted look but moved back so she went back to her task.

Once the quivering mass of students was arranged, she took them as quickly as she could up the stairs, and they were quick to follow, terror palpable in the air. Just as she reached the third floor landing she thought she heard distinctive hissing and stopped her troop, surveying the hall like a hawk. The first year still clinging onto her shook with a sob and Merissa continued forward, using her free hand to wipe her cheek and pull out her wand.

/_\

The shock of Myrtle's death seemed to quake through the school like a wildfire, although wildfire was the wrong word in almost all ways. It did not burn or ember like fire but jolted briefly like electricity. Perhaps it did not stick because with everything happening elsewhere it did not feel such a shock that someone had ended up dead. Maybe it was the relief that people felt that it had not been them or their friends. Maybe it was a small happiness that it had been someone small who they could feel sorry for with any real empathy. Because after all, who could relate to someone as meek and insignificant as Warren. Certainly, no one wanted to.

Merissa felt a strange numbness from the time she heard the news. She spent the afternoon in the common room with the rest of her house, silent as death as they waited for Merrythought's promised visit. When the professor did come she had no information, just that the staff were unsure what had caused the death but a full inquiry was taking place. She expressed, however, she was positive they would find something conclusive soon.

Merissa, on the other hand, was sure of just the opposite.

Flexing her fingers, she felt a deep tingling which if she had been in a better state of mind she might have recognized as the manifestations of her emotions, but in this state took as nothing.

"Mer?" Susan said softly, trying to take her hand into her own, "Are you alright?"

She looked up at her taller friend. She couldn't feel her face to know how it might be constructed. Strange, she guessed from the crease in Susan's brow.

How was she?

That was certainly something she didn't have an answer for. What exactly was someone supposed to feel? She was a mudblood after all. How did one define a tragedy? If her father had anything to say about it she was sure he would tell her how there was nothing to be sad of, that Tom had done them all a favor by cleaning the pool. And maybe she felt that way too. She couldn't tell.

But she knew she did not feel anything.

Her eyes found the third face of the ancient clock that sat, ticking away in the corner of the room before she whispered back, "I need to leave soon."

Susan was confused by the statement , "Why? Where are you going?"

"I just can't stand to be cooped up here for much longer," she lied fluently, "It's driving me mad - we spoke to her just a few weeks ago right there," she indicated the stairway to the dormitory, "I'm just going to sneak out with my cloak to get some fresh air. Help me get out the common room door?"

Susan seemed uncomfortable with this, but nodded at length, "Alright, let's go upstairs and grab it then."

Once they were in the empty dormitory Merissa went straight to her trunk and extracted the silvery cloak. Susan eyed it with distaste, "Should I come with you?"

"It only fits one person comfortably," Merissa rationalized, "And then who would help me out the door? Abigail wouldn't approve. James is no good at these things. I just need some air to think. Please, Susan?"

"I will, absolutely," Susan agreed, "I'll help you, I just . . . do you know something, Merissa? You know you can tell me anything."

It pained her, because that was no longer true, "Of course not. I'm just confused and afraid."

Susan seemed to try to pick out the lie and Merissa for once didn't flinch from her visual inquiry and her friend seemed none the wiser for it, "I know, me too. I don't know who they think they're kidding bringing up that old ghost story."

Merissa shook her head, "Some sick joke."

She was glad to slip under the cloak so she could express her relief. It had worked, the biggest lie she had ever told to the person who might know her the best in the world. She followed the taller girl's head back out of the dormitory.

"I'm ill upstairs, if anyone asks," she murmured just before they descended and Susan nodded to show she understood.

Merissa slipped out the smallest crack in the door possible as Susan sat back down with Abigail and James. She caught just a glimpse of their faces before she was alone in the hall, cloak carefully held around her. She met no one on her descent.

Once in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy she finally exhaled, realizing what she was doing and the madness in it. It did not hinder her, rather an observation as if from another being. Exhaling slowly, she paced three times in front of the door but could have sworn it opened before she had finished. Maybe her thoughts were that adamant.

The room of requirement looked the same as ever, hills of abandoned items rolling into the narrow walkways that could hardly fit a broader pair of shoulders. Merissa had no such problems and found herself folded into a clearing in the middle of the room. The dusty furniture held no appeal for her anymore and she could see the door from here. In the muted silence of the room she almost found herself feeling peaceful. The very air around her was almost quivering with energy that she recognized as her own.

Most importantly, she knew what would come next.

It took longer than she expected admittedly. For all his talk of timeliness, she was alone until near evening, however never for a moment did she doubt his eventual appearance.

When he finally came in the room had been dusted gray by the fading light of the sun, crested over the mountains. He looked as disheveled as she had ever seen him, his robes removed and vest unbuttoned. His tie was lopsided and seemed to grin at her like a crooked tooth. But perhaps the most familiar thing about him was the glint in his eyes, though she had never seen it so brightly before. He had succeeded, won, and she didn't know how she could have thought it would have ended up any other way.

While he did look somewhat surprised to see her, he was in no way unhappy about it.

"Evening Thorpe," he greeted, "Ravenclaws all in order then? You should have seen Slytherin."

She stared up at him as he came down the aisle, her legs still folded beneath her, her skirt just brushing the ground. The very floor seemed to be shaking under her hands, and she was quite sure it wasn't her own body.

He offered her a hand and she accepted it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He marveled at her palms, not allowing her hand free even as she stood. Placing his other hand on top, he rubbed them as if to warm. Annoyed, she sent a jolt. He laughed and released them.

"I have to admit, that's really spectacular, Merissa," he told her, moving past her deeper into the room, "You could probably demolish the entire castle with the energy you're giving off even periphery. Color me impressed."

She stared after him. He wasn't upset at all, in fact he was in the best mood she had ever seen him in. He was extracting Slytherin's journal from its hiding place now, and she watched him, emotion building.

"You're not upset."

Her voice wasn't as ragged as she expected, and it echoed off the walls. It was more of an objective observation than anything.

He pursued the text, unbothered by her questioning, "About a mudblood? Hardly. Did you expect me to be?"

She shook her head, "You're not upset with me."

He eyed her with increasing interest, "Tell me, why would I be upset with you?"

It was implausible he didn't already know with all his sly comments to it, and either way she didn't care, "If you opened it after all, that means you must have found my error. Abraxas told me you had suddenly taken to Greek."

He closed the book to give her his undivided attention, "I did. And considering you knew of it, I must assume it was not such an error as a purposeful misleading. In which case, I suppose I would rather cross with you, in another circumstance. You did lie to me Merissa, I asked you what you knew and I guessed you weren't telling me the half. And with Warren spying on you as she was, sending you those nasty notes . . . Well, it was only a matter of time she figured out something she shouldn't. I don't fancy a little mudblood being privy to such things."

"Is that why you killed her?" she asked.

His eyes were devouring her as if it might make him understand her better, "Yes," he admitted at length.

"You took my suspicion - my baseless suspicion -" she began, voice rising.

"No, I didn't," he told her curtly, "I had Lestrange look into it. I would have preferred Malfoy, but as we all know, he made a bit of a habit of telling you more than he should have. So I had Lestrange creep in and out of her dormitory late at night, and found this tucked into her trunk. It seemed like a good thing to take out of her possession regardless, given what I knew I'd have to do next. You wouldn't appreciate that being found in a dead girl's things, I'm sure."

He was extending a familiar luminescent book to her and she took it at once. She hadn't seen her journal in over a month and was glad to have it once again. She turned it over in her hands, digesting his words.

"I didn't read it," he continued conversationally, "Although you did tempt me exceptionally by showing me that excerpt about myself. Are you always so fammatory in your inner musings I wonder?"

She ignored the banter.

"Lestrange broke into her dormitory," she recapped slowly, "Just as you had him do to mine in February?"

He was surprised by her assumption, "When it was ransacked? I'd never be so obvious. I did hear of that though. At the time, Malfoy said you thought it was your gangly friend-"

"Susan," she interjected, palms tingling.

"Whatever," he shrugged impassively and it was clear he did not care to remember her name, "Though, my theory would be it was the person who felt comfortable to steal from your dormitory again, this very journal."

"Myrtle?" Merissa asked incredulously, "Why would she?"

Tom hummed thoughtfully, long fingers tapping on the binding of the diary, "Why would she steal your diary and send you threatening notes? As I recall, after your room was taken apart, someone gave a reporter a tip about the dangerous potions ingredients you keep. It would appear she didn't like you very much."

"I never did anything to her," she protested, her voice shaking. She didn't want him to be right, but then how else did this make sense? The thick rimmed glasses that had been tracking her movements since - now that she considered it - the beginning of the year. The strange interest the girl held for her, pretending to be gone during the holidays, and lurking in her room.

"I don't expect you'd remember if you had," Tom dismissed, "She was hardly significant enough. And even if you didn't, she'd still have reason to hate you, wouldn't she? You're pretty, pureblood, quidditch boyfriend, rich, well-liked - I'd even go as far as to call you popular - a prefect, perfect marks, talented -"

"Stop it," she cut in, "You're making it seem like my life is so grand. It's not."

He clearly found her objection amusing but acquiesce her regardless, "I'm just putting it into her perspective. You have everything she didn't. I'm not going to pretend to understand the inner workings of a mudblood, it's just speculation. Either way, she did it, and I doubt even someone as dim as her could have mistaken that for kindness."

"So that's it then?" she demanded, "You figured out what she was up to and killed her?"

He raised his eyebrows, "You make it seem so easy. I have quite a bit of planning that went in, making sure she was in the right place at the right time. Making sure she was alone was rather easier -"

"Don't!" she seethed, advancing on him suddenly, "The way you can just stand there and talk about it as if it were a particularly compelling game! It's disgusting, you're disgusting! A-a monster!"

His expression became dark at long last as he stared down at her, "I don't know why you're so upset Thorpe, I did you a favor."

She responded by slapping him so hard across the face it turned his head in a quick jerk. He seemed completely stunned by the action. He did nothing but stare at her, clutching his cheek for several moments. Her chest was heaving and her palm stung but she did nothing else but glare back. Her wand was still tucked into her pocket and she didn't even consider it in her fury.

"That is a very interesting way to show your gratitude, Thorpe," he finally hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

"The attacks were one thing," she breathed, "You might even be right about muggleborns not having a place here. Muggles are incompatible with wizarding kind because of their propensity for reckless violence, it had always been so. But killing them, you become just as savage."

"Muggleborns?" he laughed lowly, "Why don't you call them mudbloods, Thorpe? We both know it's what your instinct is. Do you think your use of the word will protect you from your nature? You laugh along with Black, and you'd have the rest of them believe you're softer in beliefs, but I know you. You're just as biased. As for murder - well, I don't know why you're surprised. It's like you say, I'm a monster, aren't I? As much in my nature as being prejudiced is in yours."

"Being a monster isn't anyone's nature," her voice shook with rage, "You can't deflect responsibility for the choices you make. You choose to be this way."

"Do I?" he laughed again and sounded quite mad, "Do you know what my first action upon this earth was? I killed my mother. She died, less than an hour after having me, leaving me in a Muggle orphanage in London," she stared at him, not knowing what he meant by this, but he went on, imploringly, driven as if by some acute need to make her understand, "Where was my father then you ask? Gone. Left months before, even though he knew she was pregnant with his child."

"You can't know that -" she started softly but he laughed again, a high cold laugh that didn't suit him.

"Yes, I can," he corrected manically, eyes gleaming, "I heard it from his own mouth when I tracked him down to kill him and the rest of my filthy muggle relatives. Not that I needed to hear it to do the deed."

The ring that rested on one of his long fingers seemed to shine at these words and she remembered something he had once told her about it, "When I asked you about the Gaunt's, you told me that ring was an heirloom, passed down to you. How could it be if . . ."

"I paid both of my family homes a visit that day," he told her, considering the gold circuit now as he spun it around his elegant fingers, "Marvolo, my grandfather, was already dead, but his son, my uncle Morfin, still lived there. Still, in the same village my parents had met," his lip curled unpleasantly, "I stole the ring from him and the Ministry arrested him for the murders that very evening when the Riddles were found dead in their home. Morfin had a history of Muggle attacks, so they didn't look very hard into the matter. Not that it would have mattered, I covered my tracks well."

"The Gaunt line has long been notorious for madness and violence."

His eyes roamed her face yet again and he seemed calmer, now that he had spoken, "So you see, it really is in my nature then."

She turned from him, not thinking she could take another moment of his pensive, handsome face. Making towards the door, he called after her, "Where are you going?"

He sounded more a scared boy than he ever had, but she did not heed it or soften her tone any.

"Away from you," she spit and then rounded on him again, "And I would suggest you cover your tracks just as well this time if you plan to get away with this!"

He smiled at her ruefully and the book in his hands, Slytherin's diary, caught fire as he dropped it to the floor, "What an excellent suggestion, I hadn't thought of that."

She stared at the blazing book as he stepped closer to her and tipped her chin up so she was forced to look at him straight in his sable eyes, "Really Merissa, do you think anyone could suspect me? With a face like this?"

She swatted his hand away.

He held her eye, and said gently "You've always known it would end like this."

His words sent a chill down her spine and she saw his eyes flicker before she turned and fled. He was right after all, and she had no one to blame except herself.

/_\

June 15th, 1943

Two days passed - two of the longest and most silent days Merissa had ever experienced in the castle - before any glimmer of hope for information presented. Kept up in their dormitories with no word from the castle other than the brief reports given by the elves that catered their meals, there didn't seem any advancements or revelation made by the investigation. Merissa had almost begun to wonder if they weren't stalling for an explanation to the students, hoping they might find some reasonable lead that wouldn't frighten them so much. On the third day of their confinement, the prefects were finally called together for a meeting in the evening. They were under strict instruction to travel as a group, as the brief visit to an empty classroom on the fourth floor seemed too reckless a venture to make on one's own. Merissa decided to drag herself to it, though she was pretending to still be recovering from her cover of an illness. The desire not to see Tom was trumped by the need for news.

The six Ravenclaw prefect were met by a matching set of Gryffindors on the staircase, but they did not hurry to greet each other, merely acknowledging each other with nods. Once they arrived in the classroom and were joined by the Hufflepuff and Slytherin groups, Joseph and his counterpart, Minerva McGonagall, called them to attention, though no one had been talking. The Heads were looking grim, but Merissa couldn't stomach looking at him, if he was even here, so she kept her eyes on Joseph the entire time.

"They haven't found the culprit yet," Joseph told them all.

"They haven't got a clue, have they?" Adams from Gryffindor burst, glaring openly at Joseph as he nearly leaned out of his desk to leer, "I'll give them a good hint: try starting in the dungeons with the rest of the snake spawn!"

There were a few grunts of agreement but when McGonagall cleared her throat her expression was so severe they all were silent, "This is no time for infighting. For all we know, that message was to throw us off. The chamber is a legend in any case. They've been scouring the school and they have found nothing. I must tell you though, if anyone knows anything regarding the attacks I implore them to come forward."

Merissa found keeping a neutral expression was all too easy, strange indeed, since not so long ago she had been a terrible liar.

"I'm sure no one here would be involved," Edward Thomas declared, almost offended by the insinuation.

Merissa kept her face smooth although plenty of people were glancing mistrustfully at one house group or the other.

"Is it true they want to send us home?" Rodney Stammes asked quietly.

"They're considering it," McGonagall told him, "If the culprit is not found, I don't know they'll have a choice. The governors are already calling for the closure of the school, indefinitely."

"Close Hogwarts?"

Merissa hadn't expected Tom to speak. She finally met him with her eyes, finding with some surprise he was only two desks behind her. He appeared stricken, though she imagined it was all to do with the recent news and not any revelation of guilt. She felt ill again and averted her gaze to her interlaced fingers on her lap, though they did not hold her interest for long.

"Yes," McGonagall affirmed, "They're facing massive pressure from the parents. I don't know that they will be able to resist much longer."

Merissa felt a grim satisfaction watching Riddle take in the news. He clearly had not expected the push back, and indeed, any repercussions it seemed. Even once Joseph had given a long speech on expected responsibilities for running their houses, Riddle still seemed agitated. Merissa wished she didn't feel so awful, otherwise she might enjoy his squirming a bit.

Her brother came to her side once the meeting was over.

"Let me walk you back to your tower," he implored her.

Her laugh was mirthless, "Why? We're pureblood, we don't have anything to worry about."

Joseph gave her such a grave look that was about to allow him to when McGonagall spoke offhandedly.

"Oh, and Riddle, Dippet wants you in his office."

Merissa couldn't help the involuntary glance. Tom had turned pale at her words, but he agreed easily. Merissa caught his eye as he left and she realized with some surprise, he thought she must have ratted him out. She blinked and realized Joseph was watching her expectantly.

"I-I don't want to go back to my dormitory," Merissa confessed finally. Joseph opened his mouth in obvious objection, so she added, "I want to see Abraxas. It's been days. I'm tired and frightened."

Joseph visibly softened but Bletchley had overheard them, "You need to come back to the tower, Thorpe," he snapped, "No exceptions, it's getting late."

Joseph swelled, "I'll personally walk her back in the morning," he put in, "She's my sister and as I recall I have that authority, not you."

Bletchley scowled, turning red. It was no secret he felt he should have been made Head Boy instead of Joseph, "Fine," he replied shortly.

Merissa didn't know if she felt anticipation or dread, wondering what befell Tom in Dippets office. He deserved to be caught - that much she knew - but she also didn't wish it.

The Slytherin common room was empty when they entered, the remaining prefects already back in their dormitories. Joseph disappeared up the boys' side to fetch Abraxas. She listened to the whoosh of the Black Lake, her eyes on the arching windows though it was too dark now to see what the water pushed about.

Abraxas' pale head appeared around the corner, and even by dim illumination of the gas lamps, she could see he wore the ultimate expression of distrust.

"Where's Tom?" was the first thing out of his mouth. He stood still a few meters off from her, arms crossed against his silky nightclothes.

Merissa shrugged, leaning back into the leather sofa, "Dippet wanted to see him."

Abraxas paled, "What did you -" he began furiously.

"What's going on?" Alphard was at the top of the stairs, also clad for bed. He squinted into the dim light and beamed, "Merissa! What are you doing here?"

"Needed a change of scenery," she lied.

"Brilliant," Alphard grinned, "It's been a bit glum. Have they caught the person yet?"

Merissa felt Abraxas scoured her face, "I don't think so," she finally admitted.

But Riddle didn't return that night. When Merissa woke, she was slumping against Alphard's knee, though he was still fast asleep, deep breaths expanding his chest as if to temp with the ebb and flow of the water beyond the still darkened windows. She righted herself, feeling strangely self-conscious and stood, shaking the stiffness as if it might come out with the wrinkles in her robes.

Abraxas was already awake in one of the winged arm chairs, no industry except spinning his wand around his delicate hands. There were deep rings under his eyes and she suspected he hadn't slept at all.

"Is he back?" she asked. He simply shook his head.

They spent a tense few hours in the common room before others began joining them. It wasn't as silent as the Ravenclaw common room had been, but it was still quieter than usual as people began to work on the trays of toast, eggs and sausage left by the elves, still piping hot.

Lestrange seemed to do a double take when he came down the stairs, Merissa perched on Abraxas' knee buttering a deep golden piece of bread.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, snatching a pastry as if she might take all of them from the self refilling platter.

"I'm standing in for Riddle, didn't want to leave you a prefect short," she snarked, succeeding in getting him to leave her alone.

But she too couldn't help feeling nervous that he was still gone. By the stiff way Abraxas was holding himself, even as he wrapped an arm around her for the room's benefit, he felt the same.

Perhaps, she thought, Tom had fled the school after all. She wanted to stay until he did return, but Joseph arrived just as she was finishing her second piece of toast and walked her back to the Ravenclaw tower as promised. Once inside, Merissa resigned herself to her bed, not knowing what she was feeling horrible about, but feeling it nonetheless.

/_\

June 16th, 1943

The news that the culprit had been caught was the only thing that managed to raise Merissa from her bed. Susan burst into the dormitory, all but yelling it, early the next morning. Mary and Abby cheered and hugged, relief clear on their faces. Merissa - though immediately vertical as they were - simply did not believe it.

"That's not possible," she insisted. Tom would have never allowed himself to be caught.

"Someone caught him, turned him in," Susan assured her, "Come down, the common room is all a buzz, Merrythought just passed through. They're saying it was Riddle."

Merissa scrambled from bed, suddenly feeling a fresh surge of panic she didn't know she still had in her. She threw her hair up in a ribbon, not bothering to brush it before she hurried downstairs.

The common room was an absolute zoo, crowded as it was with the silence broken now. She stared about, gazing at all the mollified, happy faces after days of resignation. It was so obvious Susan's words were true by the complete change in the atmosphere. It was jubilant, brewing full of relief.

"Is it true, they caught him?" she questioned the first figure she recognized, a beaming Edward Thomas.

"Yes, they caught him. Already expelled and had his wand broken," he was pleased to report, "Apparently, he was caught in the act last night. You'd never believe who found him - it was Tom Riddle. Aren't you friends with him?"

She stared at him, trying to comprehend his words, "Riddle . . . caught the heir of Slytherin, in the act?"

"Yes, that's right. Incredible he did, really. Saved us all. They're giving him an award for special services to the school," he explained.

"He deserves that and more, thank Merlin for him," Mary was exclaiming. Merissa felt her stomach churn, "Saved us from a maniac."

Merissa felt her knees buckle and she sank onto one of the chairs, "You alright?" Thomas asked.

"Just can't believe it's really over," she murmured. She didn't know why she expected anything different. Of course this is how it would end, him setting himself up the hero no less. She never felt more disgusted.

"We're meant to go to another meeting tonight, prefects and faculty and then we report back to our houses. Until then, everyone stays here."

Merissa barely heard him, "Alright, come get me when it's time then."

"I can't -" he began but she had already turned and proceeded back up the steps to the room.

She just laid there until the color bled from the sky and bathed the room in grey, muted light. She prepared herself properly this time, taking time to dress and when she came down the steps, the rest of the Ravenclaw prefects were already waiting.

"Good, we're all here now," Arthur Bletchley's disapproving glance might have troubled her, but she hardly noticed it, "Let's be on our way."

The meeting was held in the Great Hall for its sheer number of participants. Not only were all the prefects and faculty in attendance, but there were also several ministry officials and reporters. The bright blue hair of Clarence Day was the first thing she spotted and she took a seat across the room accordingly. Only once she was sitting did she realize one of the officials was her father. Truly, she might have expected this - he was head of Magical Law Enforcement after all, it was his job to be involved in such issues. He didn't acknowledge her if he did notice her entrance and she could tell he was bored, though he kept his outward appearance and gave off nothing but pomp.

Tom was one of the last to enter, speaking with Slughorn and taking a seat in the front. She barely noticed a thing else, watching him in fervor. He appeared the same as ever, save maybe a further self satisfied air about him. His eyes took a survey of the room and when he spotted her, they stopped for a moment. They stayed on her, in fact, until the chair he sat in gave a quake. He started, alarmed, and then glared at her. She hadn't meant for it to happen but she was happy to take credit for it. She would have made it explode on him if she had the energy.

Dippet began speaking - she noticed only because Riddle's head turned. She heard very little of what the old man said, picking up only that they had found the person responsible for the terrible tragedy and they had been expelled. Her father then took the pulpit for a statement.

"My name is Gregor Thorpe, I am here as the head of the Magic Law Enforcement in the stead of the entire ministry. We are grieved from this terrible accident, many of us, including myself having children of our own at this very school," many heads turned back to Merissa and she could feel Tom's stare again. She ignored him.

"Though through the heroic actions of a prefect, the student has been caught, we must strive for an exceeded level of excellence for the future of the wizarding community."

There was scattered applause and several blinding flashes as the reporters snapped photos. She had no doubt they would be on the cover of the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning, or that it was his very intention. It was very proactive of him to make an appearance when the issue had been resolved.

Slughorn presented Tom with the award for special services to the school, he shook hands with Dippet and her father. Several more flashes and the meeting was over. Most everyone seemed in a hurry to leave, and the hall promptly emptied. Merissa planned to as well, but when she saw Tom was speaking to her father she felt rather like hitting him and couldn't help but approach.

"It's an honor, sir, " he was saying in his most modest and charming of tones, "I've been following your run for minister. I think you might be the only one there who has a handle on any of the real issues."

She didn't know if it was true or if he was purposefully antagonizing her, however either way she had no intention of letting this go any further, "Hello Daddy, I didn't expect to see you today," she cut in.

"Ah, Merissa," Gregor greeted her warmly, placing a kiss on her forehead. She guessed that the audience called for such facades, "You must know Mr. Riddle then?"

"Of course, he's Abraxas' friend," she replied sharply, "So brave what he did. A real service to the school. In fact, I was just meaning to congratulate him. Riddle?"

She gave Riddle a significant look and he shrugged.

Gregor nodded, and she could tell he thought the situation beneath him now, "I'll see you in a few weeks then, Merissa. Mr. Riddle."

"Thank you again, sir," Tom replied and Gregor smiled an actual smile at him.

How on earth did he garner more a liking for this murderer in a few moments of conversation than he had for her, his only daughter? She could flay them both.

"You must regal me with the tale," she hissed and he followed her willingly enough out the Hall to a deserted corridor.

She rounded on him once they were alone, "What the hell is going on?" she snarled.

He did not seem concerned with her anger, only inspected the trophy in his hands with mild interest, using his sleeve to brush off nonexistent dust marring its shiny face,

"Your father seems quite concerned with the situation, I had no idea they'd send someone of such high rank from the Ministry for a mudblood," he said impassively.

"Yes, well if he had it his way this indeed would never happen again because he believes in the segregation of muggleborns. He doesn't think they should be taught magic at all, but unfortunately for him that's too unpopular a stance to take openly," she snapped, "But you know what I mean. Who was expelled?"

He raised his eyebrows in artificial surprise, "You didn't hear? It was a third year Gryffindor, Rubeus Hargrid. Half-giant, predisposed him to rather violent urges I suppose. He was raising an arcomanutla in the dungeons."

"A third-year Gryffindor is the heir of Slytherin?" she demanded, "No one could have possibly bought that tall tale. Myrtle was entirely unmarked, a creature like that would have pulled her limb from limb."

He smiled at her, one of the haunting expressions, "You'd be amazed what people are willing to believe when they are desperate."

"You're disgusting," she spat, "That boy is going where, to Azkaban, because of you?"

"Better he than I."

She took a deep breath and tipped her head back for a moment to avoid slapping him again. She didn't want to touch him, even in such a limited capacity, "And the monster? Where has it gone then?"

"Escaped," he shrugged, "There was nothing to be done, it was too quick. It'll die without his dangerous instruction, I'd guess."

"So that's it?" she demanded, "It's over then. Everything is wrapped up how you like it. Hogwarts will remain open, the creature will live on, and you will never -" she sucked in another breath, willing herself not to cry.

"I should kill you for this, and if I was half the murderer you are, I would," she told him.

His lip upturned, "You should thank me for this, Thorpe. Besides that, I know you'll never say a word about it."

"What's to stop me?" she challenged opening her hands as she stepped back, "I could go to Dippets office right now, or better yet, Dumbledore's. By his expression, he didn't buy a word of any of it."

His eyes flashed, "You would have done it already. And the fact is, you can play a hard game, but deep down you know I'm doing what needs to be done. You said so yourself, they're a danger to us. You agree with me, even if you don't like my methods. I thought you would understand."

She could feel her eyes begin to betray her, "You can't have possibly thought that," she hissed, "And I will never forgive you for this."

His expression soured, "So be it."

/_\

June 30th, 1943

The majority of the school did not sit for exams, as the proximity to tragedy seemed too acute to force another distress upon, however the fifth and seventh years still had their OWLS and NEWTS that could not be so easily cancelled. Still, it was seen as unkind to force it upon them, so two choices were given. Those who wanted to sit for exams on the scheduled dates could do so, but if one preferred to wait, they were hosting a makeup week in late-July.

The scurry to delay exams was pronounced, but Merissa rather recklessly and defiantly chose to take her OWLs on schedule, one of the few of her house to elect to do so. Susan dutifully signed as well, not needing any indication that she should. Patrick Burke felt his strict schedule would have been in vain if he did not test exactly as intended, so he joined them along with Elizabeth Springer, Edward Thomas and a greater number of Slytherin house. Predictably, this company did not do much to ease her nerves, especially since once Avery, Burke Malfoy, Nigellus had been called to the Potions practical, Merissa had alphabetized the remaining group, only to realize her and Riddle would be left alone as the final two. By the time Springer, Thomas were called, Merissa had tensed considerably, arms folded as she stared at the polished tips of her shoes. He hadn't seemed to have been as attentive, and upon them being alone together he stiffened, though his eyes never left the text he had clutched before his nose.

By the time her name was called to enter, she had clenched her hands so hard she could only feel as far as her wrists. She had very little memory of how the brew faired, only that in the end it did turn the correct shade of olive and the test maker was wringing her hand and exclaiming she had skills just like someone they had known.

The end of the year feast was not the usual lively affair, and though Slytherin had won the House cup and the quidditch championship this year, the Great Hall was not decorated in green and silver, but draped in black banners to mourn Myrtle Warren. The Ravenclaw house was certainly the most affected, but Merissa couldn't help but wonder how many of her housemates actually knew her. Abigail, though her eyes were red and puffy, certainly had not. Thomas had an arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders, her bright red ringlets brushing his dark jawline.

Susan extended a hand to her as she sat, and she took it gratefully. She kept her back to the Slytherin table - she didn't care to see how guitless his face was during this. In fact, she quite hoped she never had to see him again.

"Tragedy," Dippett's voice was slow and creaking as ever as he surveyed them from noticeably troubled eyes, "The loss everyone of you is feeling at this is undeniable. I myself have never imagined something like this would happen during my years at this school. Accidents are exceptionally tragic, especially when they take someone so young and full of potential."

She could feel Riddle staring at her, but she wouldn't turn. Softly, she heard Lestrange begin hissing something, whispering indescribably. She gripped Susan's hand harder and swore to ignore it. It didn't matter how indecent it was - she wouldn't turn, she wouldn't.

Unfortunately, the whispering was deafening somehow compared to Dippett's echoing yet thin voice. She could almost make out what he was saying, and she heard Mulicber's distinct unpleasant snicker. Her wand hand twitched but before she could make a sound, Susan turned in her seat, releasing her hand.

"If you make so much as another sound Lestrange, you will regret it deeply," Susan hissed, and her threat was serious, wand pointing at him discreetly from under the table.

Merissa kept her eyes defiantly on Dippet, though she could hear the sneer in Lestrange's whispered retort, "Is that so, Nigellus?"

"It is," she replied. Testament to her known dueling ability, Lestrange indeed did not make another sound and Susan twisted back around, nostrils flaring and she picked Merissa's hand back up and proceeded to nearly crush it in her strong grip.

By the time the banquet had ended, hardly anyone looked in better spirits, but they did begin to rise, heading off to collect their things left in the entry hall and board the train. Susan shot up and it was clear she meant to go after Lestrange, but before she could follow after him, Alphard stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"He's not worth it," he told her soothingly.

"Isn't it? You should have heard what he was saying!" Susan cried, tears springing to her deep-amber eyes. Merissa stood as well, in the case Alphard needed assistance but he was already shaking his head.

"I heard it too, Susan," he said, "He still isn't worth it."

Merissa shook her head, "None of this should have happened."

They both stopped and looked at her. She supposed she had been short on words lately, because neither seemed to know how to reply.

"Well, it did."

She realized too late, looking at Abraxas, who had spoken, she would inadvertently have a view of Riddle across the table.

"How could you say that?" she snapped at him.

He looked resigned, but held firm, "It did happen. There's nothing to be done about it now. Just be glad it was her and not you."

She understood what he meant but she still felt a flash of fury at his cavalierness. Alphard, however, beat her to it.

"Don't be a git," he glared at the blond, "She has a right to be upset. Someone died, whether or not they're a mud - a muggleborn has nothing to do with it."

A few surrounding Slytherin smirked at him derisively, but it was a girl's voice who spoke.

"It has everything to do with it. Don't let me catch you sounding off like a blood traitor again, or I'll tell mother," Walburga had appeared beside them, face pinched, "Merissa, Joseph wanted me to tell you he already took your trunk. He's overseeing the graduation ceremony, so we won't be home until later."

"Fine," Merissa replied dully.

"And don't let me catch you spill a single tear over a mudblood either," the hawk-eye girl added in a nasty undertone, "I won't allow anyone to confuse my future sister-in-law for a sympathizer."

She made the word sound dirty and Merissa couldn't help but admire her dedication. Alphard, however, was far from impressed.

"Sorry, she's always been a hag," he muttered apologetically watching his older sister retreat, "I don't think she can help it much."

"It's fine," Merissa repied evenly, and she meant it. Walburga's declarations didn't phase her. In any case, she hadn't spilled any tears since the first night Myrtle was discovered, and she did not feel in danger of now, either.

"We should go, or else we'll be left sharing a compartment," she said to the pair of them. Susan gave her a wary glance but nodded, "Do you have any bottles left in your trunk, Alphard?"

"Yes," he affirmed hesitantly.

"Great," she nodded as they began out the Great Hall, "We can sip everytime we see a tree or something."

He gave her an incredulous look but didn't argue as they marched to the doors and out of the castle.


That's a near wrap! I will be posting an epilogue of sorts on this story and then it's onto the next installment. I am very excited to start the new year with a new "year" of this story. Thank you again for everyone who has stuck with this story, even as incredibly long as it has become, so much longer than I ever intended to be honest. More to come!

Thank you to everyone who reached out to me since my last post. I really hesitated sharing what happened to me, but now I'm glad that I did, hearing the similar experiences y'all have had with stories and art and expression. I've always said stories can feel more like home to me than any place and I enjoy sharing this one with all you lovely people.

As promised, replies to reviews:

CarolinaFlint: Thank you! I am happy to hear I've been able to make these last few chapter enjoyable. I feel like endings can be the downfall of a good story sometimes so I was worried that would happen here. Thank you again for reaching out xo

Purretzel: It's funny you should say so because I am always excited to see another review from you! haha I appreciate you continuing to review even so deep in and I hope you like this chapter as well, and it's one of the longest I think! Tom does have trouble staying upset with Merissa because he is impressed when anyone can meet him at his level. Not totally a fan of it, but still impressed. I think you'll find he stays upset at her about what goes down in this chapter for a bit longer though . . .

daughterofthechief: You are too kind! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm blushing just reading your reviews. In regard to one chapter never seemingly like enough, I hope this one satisfies a bit more since its a huge chunk and I have the epilogue ready so shouldn't be much wait on that either. I too am hoping for better things this year. I think that's all we can do is hope for now. Thank you again for taking the time to write such kind and complimentary things! It really does make me so happy.

Guest: Thank you! Always nice to know someone else is enjoying reading(:

Kait-Winchester: There is more now! And I will upload the epilogue soon as well I promise. Then onto the next book, plenty more there(: I know the feeling though, one of my favorite fics is 400k+ and just ends and hasn't been updated in years. . . that's true pain. I'm happy to hear you like my Tom rendition ^-^ I like him too, even though he's a bit murdery. Thank you for reviewing!

OmuiYuni: Hahaha oh God, yeah. I guess a lot of people were surprised by that! Obviously, because I am writing them, it's all so obvious to me that Abraxas is impossibly gay, the gayest-gay boy around, but again that comes with creating him. I was secretly super pleased with how many people were caught off guard. Merissa was too! So no shame haha. Thank you for reviewing it made me smile(:

Florfleur: Thank you very much, I appreciate your kind words.

beefsupreme: Thank you Beefy, you are a MY comfort character. I guess you could say Tom definitely "deals with it" in this chapter. He is so ominous I worry its almost comical at times but I am glad you liked it. I do enjoy kind of making fun of him at times just because everyone in this story is so serious TM. You are much appreciated, thank you for taking the time to review(: means the world to me.

Nur: You're a madman/woman, just like me. That is a serious feat and I am very impressed. I can never read my own stuff back too far because reading my own writing is horrible like hearing yourself on a recording, so I have no reference to whether I could do that, but I get in the same zones with fics. Thats a huge compliment that you were inclined too though, thank you and thank you for reviewing!