Ten ~ Suspicions

May turned into June; Hogwarts began a frenzy of exam preparation. Myrtle in particular became focused on the OWLs; she spent days and nights reading and making notes. In any given moment, I could have found half a dozen scraps of parchment tucked into her robes, containing Potions recipes or Arithmancy equations or dreadful facts in History of Magic.

My prefect duties became more troublesome; the OWLs made the students far more quarrelsome. I caught Cliona fighting with a Ravenclaw girl over whether or not a Deflating Draught contained an infusion of hazelwort, of all things, and I had to dock points from her. She sulkily told me she wouldn't be speaking to me, but forgot about it by the evening meal – in typical Cliona fashion.

I myself was finding it difficult to make time for the extra OWL studying that came with the end of the year; more disturbingly, I could not really bring myself to care. I could only think of Kitty and my family, and of all that Professor Dumbledore had revealed to me the night I'd agreed to work for the Ministry. Still, I wrote extra notes whenever I could, and withdrew extra books on Charms from the library. I barely bothered to study Transfiguration; it was my favourite, and there was really no need.

By the twelfth of June, the day before the OWLs began, I was far too exhausted to think on anything. At breakfast that day, Cora and I sat miserably playing chess, both of us too tired and discouraged to do any more real studying. Snappers was with us; I was periodically feeding him bits of food as we played.

"Incantation and wand movement for a Levitation Charm?" Cora asked boredly.

"Wingardium Leviosa. Swish and flick," I answered quickly, moving out my knight to take one of her pawns. "Runes used to generate invisibility magic?"

"Damned if I know," Cora moaned.

"They won't ask that, anyway," I soothed. "That's sixth-year, I think."

"I wish I just knew a little more about what would be on the exams."

"Don't we all." I plucked a bit of bread and jam from my breakfast and tossed it at Snappers.

Cora watched with interest. "He's gotten quite good at catching."

"I know," I beamed. Snappers, too, twisted his mouth into an odd little plant-smile. "I've been training him." I tugged off another bit of bread and threw it straight into the air; Snappers promptly untangled himself and caught it, then bowed repeatedly.

"Show-off," Cora chuckled.

"A Plainswell Pitcher in school? You're as bad as that oaf Hagrid, bringing in things that don't belong here."

I craned my neck up to see Riddle, wearing his trademark sneer, his knot of nameless Slytherins behind him.

"It's a vegetarian," I said stupidly – and then the full weight of what he'd said sunk in. I rose from my chess game, leaving Snappers with Cora, and followed Riddle. "Hang on," I snarled, getting to my feet. "What did you mean, just then? I'm as bad as that oaf Hagrid? What do you know about Hagrid?"

"Go away, McGonagall," he said in a bored voice, but I picked up something else in those short words – he'd made a mistake. He strode away but I moved just as swiftly, keeping pace beside him.

"I won't go away. What did you mean?" I abruptly recalled seeing the two of them together, Riddle whispering to Hagrid, and Hagrid looking more like a stricken child than a comrade. I grabbed the cuff of Riddle's robes and forced him to stop. "If you're doing anything to hurt him—"

He turned to his friends. "Go," he hissed.

"But, Vol—" one began.

"Go." There was no arguing with him.

The Slytherins shot me a collective look of distrust and went shuffling off. Riddle looked down at me in distaste, and, deliberately, he plucked the cuff of his robes out of my grasp. "Don't pull at me, McGonagall," he said severely.

"What did that boy call you just now?" I asked, momentarily distracted. "Vol—something?"

"A nickname," Riddle said evasively. "Nothing of your concern. And as for your friend Hagrid, you would do well to warn him to stand clear of me – in fact, that might be a warning you should heed yourself."

I raised my eyebrows. "I think you're up to something, Riddle. And I'm going to find out exactly what it is."

"You'll find nothing, McGonagall." He stared directly into my eyes, willing me to look away; I would not do it. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my affairs. You don't want to get hurt."

"Don't you dare threaten me."

He gave a peremptory shrug. "Only a warning, McGonagall – only a warning."

I watched his retreating form with narrowed eyes. Even then, I did not respond well to threats, and I was not about to let Riddle hurt Hagrid. That night, I crept into the Transfiguration classroom and transformed into the tabby. It was still early enough for students to be milling around in the corridors, and I knew that Professor Dumbledore would be furious if he caught me, but I had to take the risk.

I found Riddle near the front entrance and tailed him for nearly an hour before he went to where Hagrid's hiding-place was. He didn't bother to knock; he only burst in as though he had been a welcome guest for decades. I curled up outside the closed door to listen to what they were saying.

"Yeh don't understand. I can't be rid of 'im, not ever. He's really a lovin' creature, always real polite, never attacks any of the other ones."

"Oh? And what of the night when you returned to find them all dead?"

"That wasn't Aragog. Can't have been Aragog."

"That's no loving creature, Hagrid. That's an Acromantula."

I nearly jumped. An Acromantula? Was that the rasping creature in the crate? Surely Hagrid would never be that foolish—

"I know," Hagrid answered; his voice was fairly a wail. "I jus' can't get rid of 'im, yeh know. He's gotten used to me, an' he wouldn't hurt nobody, Tom – I swear it."

Riddle's answering voice was cool and collected – a stark contrast to Hagrid. "I've kept this secret long enough. You have to be rid of it soon. You know it's dangerous."

"I'm only dangerous to those who threaten me," a low, croaking voice interjected.

"Aragog! Yeh stay out of this!" Hagrid said fiercely.

"You see?" Riddle said. "It's a vicious creature. I'll not keep this secret any longer – not unless you do me another favour."

"What? What's that?"

"One of your – ahem – friends has made it her business of late to pry into my business. I would appreciate it if you called her off, so to speak. I have secrets that no one would benefit from knowing."

"One of my friends?"

"I think you know who I'm referring to."

"Yeh mean – Miss Minerva? She's botherin' yeh?" There was a note of pride in Hagrid's voice.

"She certainly is." Riddle snorted. "I would think twice, Rubeus, about endangering your friends as well as yourself. You may not care about expulsion, but I'm sure that our dear McGonagall would have a fit if she could never return to her beloved Hogwarts. Keep her out of my way," he growled.

"I will, Tom – jus' don' make me give up Aragog, really, he wouldn't hurt—"

"Enough. I can't hear any more of this rot."

I barely had enough time to skitter back down the corridor before Riddle exited Hagrid's small, secret room. I scrambled into the nearest washroom, which was thankfully empty, and transformed back into a human. I had to stand still for a moment, until my breathing returned to normal. Riddle had said another favour. Had he been blackmailing Hagrid all year? Why hadn't Hagrid told me?

I gritted my teeth. Of course, I knew the answer to that. Hagrid was afraid of Riddle.

I pushed out of the washroom and practically ran right into Riddle – of all the terrible luck. "Shouldn't you be studying?" I asked quickly, with a sneer – I couldn't let him know that I'd heard his conversation.

"You need it more than I do, McGonagall," he shot back. He looked at me for a second more – piercingly, chillingly – as though he wanted to say something else, but then he thought better of it and went stalking down the corridor alone.

I stood stock-still, my fists clenched at my sides. It was all I could do not to run after him and punch him as hard as I could. All I could think of was poor, confused Hagrid – even though the idea of him having such a huge spider frightened me, I was more disturbed by Riddle's vehemence in insisting that I keep away from him. What secrets did he have?

"I'm going to find out whether you like it or not, you great bastard," I whispered to myself. I hated him so much in that moment that it almost knocked me over; I'd never before felt so strongly about disliking someone, but there had always been something about him, hadn't there? I should have known to trust my instincts more, I should have swallowed my pride.

After he was out of sight, I went back to the Transfiguration classroom, to retrieve my bookbag and notes. Professor Dumbledore was there, sitting at his desk. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about Riddle – but then I would have to explain about Hagrid and the Acromantula, and the fact that Hagrid could be expelled – and, of course, the fact that I could be expelled – kept me judiciously silent.

"Good evening, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore said. He had a big book open in front of him, and there were several others stacked up beside it; all of them looked very old and very fragile.

"Good evening," I said, shouldering my bookbag. "You look – busy."

He removed his little spectacles and polished them with his sleeve; I could see his eyes were tired. "It's the message from the other night – the Chamber. The chamber wakes. The Headmaster seems to have forgotten all about it, but it's not something I can ignore. What if it was a warning?"

I wrinkled my forehead. "A warning about what, sir?"

"I'm not quite certain." Dumbledore glanced down at the heavy tome in front of him, replacing his spectacles. His fingers traced along some words; I was too far away to read them. "Have you heard of the Chamber of Secrets, Miss McGonagall?"

"That silly story people tell to scare the first-years? The monster underground, so to speak?" I couldn't believe that he put any stock in it.

"That silly story," he confirmed. "Some of the old histories I've been reading indicate that it may be more than a fairy tale. It's certainly conceivable – there are rooms in this old castle that no one has seen for hundreds of years, and that passage up in the east wing is something different every time you go up there. Why, the last time I was there, it was decorated like an Egyptian palace. Sphinxes and sarcophagi – or is it sarcophaguses?"

I was accustomed to his tendency to ramble, and knew how to defer it. "So you think that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is writing messages on the walls?" I asked doubtfully.

He smiled. "It sounds so ridiculous when you say it that way, Miss McGonagall – but we cannot afford to dismiss it. I just wish that Armando would exercise more caution—" He stopped, as though only just remembering himself. "I apologize. I should not say such things to you; I forget, sometimes, that you are a student first, and not foremost a colleague."

"It's okay," I said quietly.

"I only feel – I only feel as though something terrible is going to happen. Call it intuition, I suppose – or perhaps I'm simply a paranoid old man."

"Better to be vigilant than blind, I suppose. Though I would hesitate to leap to an old scary story for an explanation."

"Indeed." He looked up at me then, and gave another small smile. "Don't let me keep you; I'm sure you've got OWLs to be concerned about. History of Magic tomorrow, right? Binns can be terrible."

I gaped. "You were taught by Professor Binns?"

"I think Godric Gryffindor might have been taught by Professor Binns."

I grinned a little at that. Since accepting the idea that I would be an intrepid spy, I had forgotten to give much thought to anything else relating to careers, and History of Magic was really my least favourite subject. With everything that had happened – Hagrid and Kitty and everything else – I could not particularly bring myself to care about whether or not I got straight Os. "Good night, sir."

Upon returning to the common room, I was shocked to find Cliona, Cora, and Myrtle sitting together on the floor – not studying for OWLs as they all had been for the past month, but simply relaxing.

"Potions and History of Magic tomorrow," Cliona announced. "We've decided we've had too much of it all, so tonight—" she rose and took me by the hand, "we forget that OWLs even exist. We eat, we drink, we be merry – and don't you correct my grammar, Minerva, I know it's rubbish already – but first—"

"But first!" Myrtle shouted.

"We dance!" Cora finished.

The three of them whooped all at once, like little kids playing, and proceeded to dance a jig all around the common room, much to the chagrin of those who were actually trying to study last-minute. Myrtle and Cliona pulled me forwards, forcing me to dance with them, and I found that I could, throwing my arms up in the air along with them, crowing and singing, forgetting all about every last thing that had been bothering me.

Later on, when everyone else was asleep, after we'd gorged ourselves and danced and each loudly confessed that we'd be the worst of the four in OWLs, Myrtle volunteered an idea. "I think we ought to make a pact."

"A pact?" Cora's interest was piqued. "How do you mean?"

"Like a friendship pact," Myrtle elaborated. "Come thick or thin, come tough OWLs or bad charms or misspent Valentine's Day balls." She was in an unusually good mood that evening; her eyes nearly sparkled with the idea of a pact. "I'd like to know that you three'll always be around to bail me out."

"And you need the most bailing," Cliona added with a smirk.

"Hush," Cora said. "I think she's right; we should do it."

"Hands in a circle, d'you reckon?"

"I do reckon."

So I lifted my hands up, Cliona on my left and Myrtle on my right, and we said silly things like I promise never to let Cliona drink too much Butterbeer and I promise never to let Minerva study too much and I promise to tell Myrtle if the crushes she gets are ridiculous and sappy. It was near midnight when we all crept into bed, each of anxious about the History of Magic exam at nine o'clock.

And that, really, was the last good time we all had.