Cassandra met with Tom again the next day. She didn't know when she'd started thinking of him by his first name, but using his last name seemed a bit too formal for two people who were somewhat privy to each other's consciousness.

She'd been thinking about him a lot. He frightened her, and she wasn't used to being frightened, at least not by people. Her fears were usually more abstract than that. But Tom, Muggle-hating half-blood, Heir of Slytherin, murderer Tom, had seen a side of her she'd never voluntarily shared with someone, and reveled in it.

He wanted something from her, of course. Probably wanted a great many deal of things from her; she was under no delusion his purported fascination was divorced from what he believed she could do, would do for him — that's what his song-and-dance was about. It didn't mean it wasn't a charming one.

Earlier in the day, while she'd been spending time with Cedric, she'd contemplated telling him everything about Tom Riddle and the diary. And then she'd envisioned Cedric insisting she hand the diary over to Dumbledore in the name of her own safety, and the idea of not talking to Tom again, of never discovering the truth behind his interest in her or understanding her interest in him stopped her from saying anything at all. Right then, she had traded feeling frightened for feeling sleazy. Of the two, she preferred feeling frightened.

Tom welcomed her with one of his sharp smiles. This time, the backdrop chosen for their encounter was the cave she'd seen in her dreams. The cavern enshrouded a great black lake, so vast that she could not make out the distant banks, and its ceilings were so high as to be out of sight. A single magical light shone above them, the only thing that broke the otherwise velvety blackness that encompassed them.

"What do you think?" asked Tom.

As he said the words, he turned his head to take in the view, artfully giving her his perfect profile. Cassandra copied his movement. On one side of them, she saw the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness. She could smell salt and faintly hear rushing waves, which told her they were very close to the sea.

"It's private, peaceful. Going by the sounds of the ocean outside, it's probably difficult to access. You must like it a lot."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're showing it to me, for one. And… you seem to like having things all to yourself. It looked that way with the Chamber of Secrets, at least. I imagine this place is as much yours as it can be anyone's."

Tom looked pleased, but didn't budge.

"Do you want to know why I brought you here?"

"Yes."

"It reminds me of you."

Not an answer she had expected.

"Is that why you've been showing it to me?"

"Mhmm. I found this place as a child, on a summer outing. I didn't have many things that were all mine, as you put it, back then. A couple of Muggle kids were annoying me, and I wanted a place where I could hurt them without being seen. And suddenly… I was here."

"What about the kids?"

"Oh, they came too. I had an extraordinary level of control over my magic, even before Hogwarts."

"Did you hurt them?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Isn't it obvious, Bellatrix? I drowned them."

The hair on her forearms rose and pressed against her sleeves.

"Not long enough for them to die. I was young and didn't want to risk getting into too much trouble. But they were never quite right afterwards… Of course, that only made this place sweeter. So you see, it's only natural that it would make me think of you now."

For a steep second she thought his gaze hummed, but it was only her rushing blood she heard.

"That was different."

"I'll admit, you didn't know that I was alive or that I would be able to feel it. Would you do it again, knowing what you do now?"

"Yes."

Tom smiled.

"We're not so different, you and I, Bellatrix."

"Is that what you want from me, Tom? Understanding? Connection?"

"I've never had it. Not physically. Not with reciprocity. Do you believe you could understand me, Bellatrix?"

He didn't sound sad. He sounded curious.

"That depends on how much you're willing to share."

"About?"

"About why you're in this diary. About what happened to you."

"Nothing happened to me. I happened. I am here because I willed it so."

"Why?"

"I am the Heir of Slytherin. I wanted a way to reopen the Chamber of Secrets and cleanse Hogwarts of the sickness infesting it, even after I left the castle. To finish what I started by killing that pathetic girl. That moment… it was a revelation. Nothing had ever felt as exhilarating as seizing power over Life and Death."

"Did it feel that way for you, when you killed your victims?" Tom asked in the kindest of tones.

It was as though he'd snatched the air right out of her throat.

"I — don't consider them my victims."

"What do you consider them?"

"Dead."

"Just as dead as mine. But I don't run away from what I've done. I don't stink of shame."

Cassandra was shaking her head, but the denial was for her own benefit. "I don't —"

"It's all over you. All you have is fear of it. You can't stand to think you're evil. Why? Because you ended a life? Two, three, four? What is so evil about that?"

She looked at him sharply.

"Are storms evil? Is fire evil, or hail? No, they're just acts of nature. No moral judgment attached to them, yet they kill all the time, don't they?"

"Not deliberately."

"It's not the act of killing that haunts you, Bellatrix. It's the inevitability of acknowledging how good it feels. You wonder, don't you, at night? What it would be like to give yourself to me. To do what Ginny Weasley couldn't stomach. Is it hard, imagining the thrill we'd feel killing together, having done it yourself?"

"Yes."

Tom looked as if he appreciated the simple honesty of her answer. Seizing the chance, he delivered his final blow.

"You have no idea how good it'll feel, Bellatrix, to give up your silly notions of good and evil. I will make you powerful beyond your wildest imaginings."

When she came back to herself, Cassandra leaned over the side of her dorm bed, and vomited.

There was no going back to sleep. She stayed up all night, running on will. Some of the things Tom had said about her were true, and some only brushed against the truth. She was barely strong enough to face what he'd thrown at her. Beyond her fear for herself, she hated what he'd said about Ginny Weasley — it's not as if the girl had had a choice. She knew she had to get away from him.

As dawn broke on a misty Friday, Cassandra grabbed the diary and rushed to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; most of its occupants were still asleep. She walked past snoozing portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last she reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. She stood across from the painting, resting her body against the wall, and breathed deeply.

"You're not one of mine," said the portrait of the fat lady.

"Don't worry, I'm not trying to get in. Just waiting for someone."

She wanted to get in and shake the Weasley twins awake, but she knew her urgency was of her own making. She wasn't going to go with Tom Riddle's plans, no matter what he thought. No one was in danger. She had time.

She stood there into the morning, ignoring the double-takes she got whenever the portrait swung open and a Gryffindor student made their way out of their Common Room. Finally, Fred and George walked out, looking puffy-eyed and tousle-haired and carrying the pair of Nimbus 2000s she had half-gifted, half-coerced them into accepting the year before.

"Cass? What are you doing here?" said Fred.

She grabbed the twins by the front of their robes and dragged them down the stone steps.

"What in the name of Merlin —"

She shoved them against a wall once they were far enough from prying ears.

"We need to take this to Dumbledore. Now." she said, throwing the diary at Fred's chest.

"Whoa, hold your hippogriffs. What happened?"

"I — we're in over our heads. I'm in over my head, okay? Tom —"

"You're on a first name basis now?"

"Don't — Don't. Just listen to me. He's been seducing me. Not sexually," she said, at Fred's disgusted expression. "But he's been… I don't know, fostering a dependency? I thought we were connecting. I actually thought I was emotionally connecting with an immensely powerful Dark object that might have an actual soul stuck in it, if that's even possible. I'm not that stupid, so it can't all be coming from me. It's not."

"What about your Occlumency?" asked George, frowning.

"I overestimated how much it could protect me. He hasn't been able to freely read my thoughts, but I have no idea how strongly he's been influencing my emotions. I think, by a lot."

They looked at her guiltily. "We had no idea —"

"Of course you didn't. I didn't. None of us had any idea what we were getting into. He's really dangerous. I thought — Circe, I thought I'd be fine. That if I was careful enough, I'd be able to resist the compulsion and get the information we wanted. But he's…" she paused and rubbed her eyes, trying to put her thoughts in order. "He's offering me all these things, and I know I've never wanted any of them, but something about him makes me want to give in any way. I want to write in the fucking thing, even now."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound good," said Fred.

"I can't do this anymore. We need to take the diary to the Headmaster and let him deal with it."

The twins turned their attention to each other, speaking silently as she watched them. They reached some sort of conclusion, then Fred spoke.

"Yeah. You're right. We're sorry we pulled you into this."

"That's okay," she said tiredly. "I know you guys didn't mean any harm. And I'll do my best to help protect your family."

However, before they could discuss how exactly they would proceed with approaching Dumbledore, they were interrupted by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"What are you two dawdling for?" said Wood. "Quidditch practice! Come on!"

"Oliver, we're busy with something," said Fred.

"Our match against Hufflepuff is tomorrow. You two can be busy with whatever you want after that. Until then, I need my Beaters focused on one thing only, and that's Quidditch. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No." "Not a problem, captain."

"Good men. That a problem with you, Lestrange?" said Wood briskly.

Cassandra looked at the tall and burly sixth year, took a step forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose. It was moments like this that made her appreciate her above-average height. "I would mind your tone with me, Oliver. I am not one of your players to be barked at."

Wood didn't apologize, but took a step back, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender. He addressed Fred and George one more time before leaving. "I'll meet you two on the field in ten minutes."

The twins turned to her once again. "We'll talk later, all right?" said George. "In the evening, before dinner. We'll figure out how to tell Dumbledore."

"McGonagall's gonna kill us," said Fred unhappily.

"And maybe we should keep it until then?" said George. "Since it's affecting you so much."

Cassandra didn't feel very certain about the idea.

"We won't write in it, we promise."

"Okay," she breathed out. "Maybe that's for the best. Do not mess around with it ."

"We won't."

She tapped her foot anxiously all the way through her morning classes, lunch and Arithmancy in the afternoon. She was about to go meet the twins when Fred quite literally ran into her in the Entrance hall, looking frantic.

"Cassandra — we don't know what happened — I swear we didn't show it to anyone."

Ice ran through her veins. "What are you talking about?"

"The diary. It's gone."

"What?"

"George put it in our trunk before practice so we wouldn't drop it on the pitch. We went back for it now and all our stuff had been thrown everywhere. Someone took it."

"No one even knew about it other than the three of us and your sister!"

"I know, ok! George's talking to Ginny now, but she says she doesn't have it. She doesn't seem to remember ever having it. You said that was possible, right? That she might not remember anything because of the possession?"

"Fuck. Fuck!"

"What do we do?"

"I have no fucking idea! This is such a fucking mess!"

"Merlin, woman, watch your mouth."

"This – is not – the time – for jokes," said Cassandra, punching Fred's arm between the words.

"Ow! Ow! I know, I'm sorry! I was trying to lighten the mood!"

"Tom Riddle is dangerous! I told you that! He was halfway to convincing me to go on a murderous rampage through the castle, and now you're saying anyone could have his diary?"

"Well, not anyone. It was in our dorm. Only a Gryffindor could've taken it," Fred said darkly.

"Well, you had better find it, then. I don't care if you have to riffle through every single trunk in that blasted tower. Whatever happens is on us, Fred. As soon as the diary was in our hands, it became our responsibility. If that thing kills someone —"

"Yeah, I know. We'll find it, all right? We're doing our best."

Cassandra walked away from him without another word, not trusting herself not to break something over his head if she stayed.

She entered the Great Hall and joined her peers at the Slytherin table, her mind flying at a breakneck speed. She couldn't approach Dumbledore now. Even if he believed her, no one else of any consequence would. Public perception had never been in her favor, and butchering a bunch of werewolves over the Winter holidays had not improved her standing with the Ministry of Magic. The DMLE had been itching to bring her in for questioning, and only the fabricated story about her kidnapping, as well as well-applied pressure from the Malfoys and Tonkses (likely the first time those two families had presented an united front on any matter) had kept them at bay. Were she to tell a tale about a cursed diary capable of possession being responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets, without being able to offer the book to corroborate her story, they would call her insane. And then likely try to pin the attacks on her and send her to Azkaban for a family reunion.

Cedric knew something was wrong as soon as he saw her. He jerked his head toward the doors and Cassandra followed him out. They walked past the giant hourglasses that recorded the House points down to the Entrance Courtyard, which was half-empty, and sat on one of the stone benches, facing one another.

"What's going on?"

"I've made a huge mess, Cedric," she said, burying her head in her hands.

"Hey," said Cedric, stroking her arm gently. "Whatever it is, we'll fix it. Everything's going to be fine. What happened?"

"I know who the Heir of Slytherin is. I know who's been opening the Chamber of Secrets."

The words stopped Cedric on his tracks.

"Tell me."

She did, the whole ugly truth about finding the diary after Ginny Weasley had tried to get rid of it, what she'd uncovered with her research and her conversations with Tom Riddle. Cedric listened to it all in silence, clenched-jawed and with a stillness that would've bothered her, had she any right to be bothered.

"I should've left the whole thing alone."

"No, you shouldn't have. But you shouldn't have tried to handle it on your own, either."

She didn't contradict him, because he was right.

"What are we going to do?" asked Cedric.

"We?"

"How many times will I have to make this point, Cassandra? Because I love you, so I'll keep making it for as long as it takes for it to get through to you, but it does get old. You can come to me about anything, and we'll take care of it together. I might not be very happy about you putting yourself in danger, and we might have some serious words about it afterwards, but not before you're safe. I'll always help you. I'll always be here for you."

She sighed. "You really could stand to be ruder to me when I act like such a selfish cow."

"No," Cedric said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I couldn't."

Cassandra would have killed for him then, no mind games or compulsion needed. That was one of Cedric's great talents.

"You need a good night of sleep. Go to bed, take a potion if you need to. Your mind will be a lot clearer tomorrow, and we'll brainstorm after the game. There have to be some location spells or a ritual we can try. We'll find the diary and hand it over to Professor Dumbledore."

Cassandra nodded and leaned forward, put her arms around his waist and let her body go lax against his, resting her head on his chest to listen to the comforting thump-thump of his heart. "Do me a favor. Tomorrow, I need you to beat Gryffindor so soundly, Oliver Wood throws himself off of the Astronomy Tower."

Cedric huffed out a laugh. "I'll try."

He was right, of course. She woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze, feeling much calmer and determined to find a way to stop Riddle and whoever he had under his influence now.

She left the castle with Adrian and Marcus Flint to join the large crowd swarming toward the Quidditch stands. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had painted two yellow and black lines on her cheeks in support of the Hufflepuff team.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions," said Adrian, who was still unaware of the diary debacle.

"You think your boy has good chances of beating Potter to the Snitch today, Lestrange?" said Flint, who besides being Adrian's not-boyfriend, was also the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

"Of course I do. Do you want some action on that?" said Cassandra. "I'll put ten galleons on Cedric, if you want to bet on Potter."

"Hey, I never said that! And I'm pretty sure as Slytherin Captain, it's illegal for me to back Potter on a bet."

"Immoral," corrected Adrian.

"What?"

"You said illegal, but you meant immoral."

"No, I didn't."

"How would it be illegal for you to bet on Potter? What law would you be breaking?"

"I don't know, probably some Professor Snape wrote."

"Marcus, that makes no sense —"

Cassandra laughed distractedly at the couple's back-and-forth while she looked around the pitch, trying to find her boyfriend. Cedric liked to have a kiss for good luck before his matches, a request she was always more than happy to oblige.

The Hufflepuffs, who were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics, waved to her when they saw her. Malcolm Preece, who was one of Hufflepuff's Chasers and Cedric's friend, mounted his broom and flew in her direction.

"Where's Cedric?" he asked, glancing around her as if he thought she might be hiding him behind her back.

"What do you mean?"

"He said he had to take care of something before the match, we assumed he was with you."

At that very moment, Cassandra saw Professor McGonagall hurrying towards the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone, and her heart dropped like a stone.

"This match has been canceled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Cassandra started running. She ran down the stands, barreling into other students, and didn't stop until she collided with the older witch, who was still in the middle of the pitch, shouting orders through her megaphone for all students to go back to their House common rooms.

"Miss Lestrange!" said Professor McGonagall shrilly. Cassandra was grabbing the teacher by the shoulders, oblivious to the shocked looks stamping the faces of the people around them.

"Tell me where's Cedric!" said Cassandra forcefully.

"Miss Lestrange, unhand me at once!"

Cassandra did so. She noted, somewhat detachedly, that she was struggling to breathe and there were black spots appearing at the edges of her vision. "Where is he?" she asked again, more quietly.

"Miss Lestrange," McGonagall repeated in a surprisingly gentle voice, holding her student's elbows. "I need you to come with me. You too, Mr. Weasley. Go fetch your brothers." A small red-headed boy — Ron Weasley, Cassandra deduced — took off behind her.

She followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircases. They made it all the way to the Transfiguration teacher's office before she spoke again.

"Miss Lestrange, I understand you are in a relationship with Cedric Diggory."

"I am."

"I am very sorry to tell you this, but we believe he has been taken by the monster alongside another student. Right into the Chamber itself."

Cassandra gripped the meat of her thigh very hard, focusing on the pain to keep herself upright. "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall tremulously, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Their skeletons will lie in the Chamber forever.' Mr. Diggory's broom was found closeby, stained with — stained with blood. Alongside Ginny Weasley's bookbag."

Giving into the panic, Cassandra felt herself slide silently down onto the floor.