To say that Tom wasn't pleased with Anthony's involvement was an understatement.
After break, she attended the rest of her classes without any trouble, but the moment she closed herself into her dormitory, Tom appeared sitting in her armchair, his features cold and stony. He wasn't looking at her. She tried to catch his eye for about three seconds before she decided it simply wasn't worth the effort, and she began working on her missed Herbology work instead.
As she settled on her bed, her books laid out in front of her, she could feel his glare boring into her skull. She tried to ignore it, working quietly for about ten minutes. Each second that passed, the air became thicker. She was incredibly tempted to glare back at him. She wouldn't; she was as stubborn as he was and if he wanted to act like a git, he had every right. She would be mature and finish her work.
And that was exactly what she did. She took her time, making sure her assignment was of the utmost quality, all the while Tom positively glowered at her. Even while she was in class today, she could sense his extreme displeasure, and she knew it had to do with Anthony's assessment of him. Not only did he make jibes about Tom, but he also implied that Tom wasn't someone to be trusted— a sentiment that she knew infuriated her friend. He prided their trust in one another with utmost seriousness and regarded anyone who tried to get in the way of that as a problem.
She'd been irritated by Anthony's remarks too, but she knew he was only being sensible. Also very annoying. And right now, Tom was being just as annoying, if not more.
She resolutely ignored him until she absolutely couldn't anymore. An hour passed. Her schoolwork was finished. Tom was still glaring.
She put her supplies away, then sat crisscrossed on her bed. Finally, she looked right at Tom, and it was then that she gave him the most 'are you KIDDING me?' look in her entire life.
"So are you going to keep glaring at me all evening, or are you going to use your words?" She asked in a mocking tone.
Tom sneered.
He is so dramatic, she thought to herself, attempting to keep her facial expression blank. If she glared back, then she was as bad as he was. She tried another, less condescending route. "You're mad because I showed Anthony the records." It wasn't a question.
He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward. "In what realm did you decide that was ever a good idea?" He said, his voice tight with anger. "Six more people are going to know that you've stolen from Dumbledore and cast a potentially lethal, extremely dark spell on the entire school."
"They're not going to tell anyone," Lucy said calmly. She trusted her Quidditch team, and she knew that not one of them would let something like this slip, especially when it had to do with the Chamber of Secrets. Daisy might be a stickler for the rules, but she was loyal to a fault, and she'd put her friends' well being above the rules any day.
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. Anthony's older and smarter than me—" Tom opened his mouth to argue that statement, but she pushed on. Anthony was silly and dramatic, but his magical talent was undeniable. He was more observant than anyone gave him credit for. "—and I trust his judgement. Last year, he managed to work out that there was something wrong with Quirrell and that he and I had something strange going on. He was smart enough to keep it to himself, but he made sure nothing bad happened. He's smart."
His eyebrow quirked upward at the new information, but he was otherwise unconvinced.
"I don't even know why I have to explain this to you," she added with a huff. "Even if they do tell people, who cares? I wasn't anywhere near Dumbledore's office and no one sawme cast the spell."
Tom was still scowling, and she was beginning to think that simply telling Anthony about her investigation wasn't the problem here.
She stared at him, squinting her eyes in thought. He let up the scowl a bit to shoot her a confused look.
"What are you—?" he began.
"Aha! You're mad because Anthony was making fun of you!" She didn't know how she realized it, but it just occurred to her. And going by the stunned look on Tom's face, she was correct. She couldn't help but laugh. "Tom, Anthony makes fun of everyone. Didn't you hear how annoying he was being to me?"
"That's not the issue here."
"Okay," she said simply.
He glared at her, unconvinced. "It's not."
"I said okay."
"You didn't mean it. Don't take me for an idiot, Lucy."
"You mean like Anthony does?"
He looked ready to throw his own diary out the window at any given moment, just to get away from this conversation. She laughed; sometimes she forgot that Tom was really just a boy after all, and he could get offended over stupid little things like someone calling him a prat.
"He said plenty of nice things about you too, you know—" she began to point out.
"Don't. Remind me," he growled, thinking of all the lewd things Anthony had to say after he saw his picture.
"Listen, that was just as painful for me as it was for you," Lucy shuddered. Anyone with a set of eyes could see Tom was handsome but she definitely did not need anyone to gush about that fact. "But knowing Anthony, he definitely meant it all—"
"That's not helping!" he snapped.
She tried her hardest to keep from laughing again, but she couldn't help the few snickers that escaped. Tom scowled and turned away from her, sulking.
"I think it's neat that my friends know about Tom Riddle," she said after she managed to get a hold of her facial expression. She grinned in his direction. "Now I get to brag all I want."
His sneer let up, only slightly. "And they obviously won't find it weird that you're bragging about a dead man," he said sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes. "I could say that I found Binns handsome and no one would bat an eye at this point."
"You're saying he's not?"
Lucy looked at him, stunned. Tom stared back with a completely serious expression on his face. She was beginning to question whether or not that diary had slowly been driving her friend insane, when he suddenly laughed at her incredibly disturbed demeanor.
"You're gullible," he chuckled at her souring expression.
"You're a snake!" she retorted. Her face felt warm. She couldn't believe she fell for that. It was the easiest trick in the book. In the book she had written. Good Merlin she was losing her mind. "A snake and a liar!"
"It takes one to know one," he reminded lightly.
She rolled her eyes. Well, she couldn't argue with that.
"Only you could start this evening by glaring at me for hours and then suddenly decide you're a comedian."
"Well, you ignored me for hours. We could have had this conversation a lot earlier—"
Oh, she was not taking the blame for this one! She pulled a face at him. "If you told me why you were mad in the first place! Honestly, it's like you think I'm a mind reader."
Tom still had that infuriatingly pleasant demeanor. Now that he wasn't being a pouty git, he was leaned back in the armchair, resting his arm on one of the rests and his chin atop his hand. "It's called a Legilimens."
"A what?"
She felt like she heard the word before, somewhere in Riddle's Book. She spent so much time looking through the spells that she rarely stopped to look at his other notes.
He pointed over at the ever-growing stack of books on the floor beside her desk. Some were snuck out of the restricted section of the library, some came from Mallory, and some she didn't even know where they'd come from. She had a feeling Tom distracted her into taking certain books, because she definitely didn't care to know about properties of different potion fumes. "Read it for yourself," he told her. "I think you'd find it interesting."
She gave one short, annoyed sigh. What a pointless argument. At least from her perspective, that is— whatever she'd said had clearly satisfied Tom, or else he wouldn't have moved on from the matter so quickly. She hated it sometimes, not knowing what he was thinking. He seemed to always know where her train of thought was going and it was unfair that she couldn't do the same.
Mind reading, she thought, looking over at the pile of books. Perhaps she'd find it interesting after all.
Anthony's remarks did not ease up.
Lucy didn't know who he was driving more insane: Tom, or herself. On one hand, it would be infuriating to have to listen to these jabs without a way to defend himself, but on the other hand, she had to suffer through both Anthony teasing her and then Tom's sour mood afterward.
"I'm telling you, cub, I need to see the picture of him again! He's like Prince Charming!" Anthony groaned, throwing himself over Lucy's bed.
He and the rest of her Quidditch team were holed up in her dormitory at the moment. They were doing a few different things. Herbert was studying for his N.E.W.T. exams, while Heidi was on the floor with Maxine helping her study for her O.W.L.s. Daisy and Cedric were being so kind as to research what little information there was on Acromantulas, as well as the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. Anthony was supposed to be looking at the old Pureblood Pedigrees, but he'd decided after an hour that he'd rather be a menace.
Lucy cast a wary glance his way. If he looked under her bed, he might find the various dark books she had stuffed underneath. It wasn't the best hiding place, but they'd crashed her dorm on too short of notice for her to do anything else.
"How do you even know who Prince Charming is, you ruddy pureblood?" Lucy said, rolling her eyes as she turned a page in her book. Tom sat in the desk chair next to hers, lazily reading over her shoulder. So far, he was doing a good job of ignoring Anthony, but that had more to do with her book than anything. Legilimency was indeed very interesting, but also very confusing. She was still in the many pages of introduction to the subject, to the point where she still didn't know anything about it; the author was very adamant on explaining the complexity of the skill.
"Daisy reads me bedtime stories," Anthony said innocently. Daisy glared at him until he gulped and looked away. "Joking, joking. It was actually little Meggie who once threw a muggle fairytale book at my head."
"I can't believe people thought Lucy petrified her," Cedric said, tactful as always. "Kids have arguments all the time."
"Not all kids have arguments over whether or not you've been in the Dark Lord's service," Lucy said wryly. Tom chuckled.
Cedric winced slightly, before clearing his throat. "I suppose. Anyway, this Heir's not very good at his job— Susan's a Pureblood."
"She's not a blood traitor either," Herbert added, nodding along. "The Bones have been actively staying pureblood for centuries. They're neutral on Muggles, but they certainly hated You-Know-Who."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Lucy said vaguely, turning to the next page.
She found it weird to think of anyone except a Slytherin insistent on 'staying pure', or why someone would even want to stay pure. She could kind of see both points of view. It was a social mark in the wizarding world, much like financial class in the muggle world. Even the Weasleys, who weren't nearly as rich as the Malfoys, still had respect from other, less extreme wizards just because they were purebloods. She remembered Ron's letters and how he mentioned all of Mr. Weasley's friends in the ministry. It was nothing to blink at.
But then again, it seemed like such a hassle. People were people, no matter their ancestry. Lucy was wary of muggles from her own experiences, but she wouldn't go out of her way to hate them. They had brilliant inventions and without the use of magic, they were able to invent ways to make their lives easier. Some of them were just as good as a wizard's spell. She certainly would never lower herself to behave like Draco Malfoy. Despite their tentative friendship, he really was nasty sometimes, and she didn't approve of his holier-than-thou attitude one bit.
"This conversation has nothing to do with my Prince Charming!" Anthony complained loudly. He groaned into Lucy's pillow. "Show me the picture, woman!"
Lucy rolled her eyes. She'd stowed that picture away in the diary, so there was no way she was pulling it out anytime soon. "Not going to happen, Anthony," she said flatly. "You'll have to settle for Cedric."
"Ceddyrella?" Heidi suggested.
"Don't spread something like that around!" Cedric snapped.
"Ceddyrella is nothing compared to my sweet prince!" Anthony insisted.
She wasn't sure who was more annoyed right now. Cedric, at being called 'Ceddyrella', or Tom at being referred to as Anthony's Prince Charming.
Tom stared at Lucy, emotionless. She sighed and turned to Anthony. "Anthony, I'm going to need you to stop talking about Riddle."
"Yeah, Lucy has dibs," Cedric snorted.
"Shut it, Ceddyrella," she said, glaring at him. He made a noise of protest that she easily ignored. "Why are you in my room in the first place? It seems like you lot are always around."
"It's not your room, it's the second year dorm," Daisy reminded as she jotted down a note in the margin of her book.
"Since they all either moved or got petrified months ago, I'm calling it mine."
She'd said the words nonchalantly, but Daisy looked guilty all the same. There was no reason for that, really. Lucy didn't mind since Tom was here to keep her company.
"You could stay with the third years, if you wanted," Heidi suggested with a kind smile.
...Lucy didn't even know the names of the third years. She should probably find that out sometime soon, since she knew most of the older Hufflepuffs already. "Thanks, Heidi, but I'm alright in here. At least when Rickett's not causing a ruckus."
Anthony groaned loudly in response.
Lucy shook her head fondly at her friend's dramatics, and then she focused her attention back on her book. She was surprised to see a few minutes of peace pass by, with the only sounds being the rustling of paper and the quiet murmurs between her friends. She was able to focus on the content in the book. Tom was relieved, both because he liked to read over her shoulder and because he despised Anthony's comments with a burning passion.
The morality of Legilimency has been debated since ancient Greeks put a name to the art; to peel back the layers of another human's mind is questionable in nature, since it is an undeniable violation of an unaware person's mind, but others have argued whether or not infiltrating the mind for the greater good is justified.
Lucy huffed, skipping that page. She didn't care about the morality of it— she wanted to know how to do it already!
"Go back," Tom told her sternly. "You didn't read that page."
She shot him a 'why the hell would I ever do that?' kind of look. He was fluent in discerning her silent questions at this point.
"If you're going to study a subject further, it's important to look at all aspects of it, even the parts you aren't interested in. I had the same attitude as you when I was your age; I thought I knew everything. I did know much more than anyone else my age, but the parts I ignored, I had to go back and study anyway." He laughed at the crestfallen look on her face. "I apologize for being such a good mentor. I hope you'll forgive me."
Yeah, you'd better, she thought, but she had to fight a smile as she flipped back to the last page. He was such an old man sometimes.
Anthony was starting to come to terms with the reality that Lucy wouldn't hand over the photo willingly. On top of that, everyone in the room was ignoring him. Or at least focusing too much on their own activities.
So, like any sane nuisance would do, he took matters into his own hands.
In one swift movement, he catapulted himself off the bed, attempting to slam Cedric to the ground with him. Except he didn't quite aim right and instead, he managed to catch his foot on the leg of Lucy's chair and send it toppling over. She was quick enough to catch herself before she fell with it, but her bag fell to the floor and loads of books fell out with it. Including the diary, which had the photo sticking out of it.
She looked from the diary, to Tom, and then to the menacing grin on Anthony's face.
"Anthony, I swear—" she began warningly, but he cut her off with a laugh.
"Don't worry, cub, I'm not that mean that I'd look through your diary," he winked, and he was kind enough to pick it up and hand it to her. Although right as he held it in his hand, he pulled a face and looked at it strangely. "Merlin, this thing's freezing!"
"I told you to put the diary in your purse," Tom grumbled.
He did not, in fact, tell her to do that. She recalled him being perfectly fine with her chatting with him in History of Magic. He'd told her a story about when he'd entered a dueling championship in his Hogwarts years— and she was nothing if not a willing audience.
"That'll happen," Lucy said, shrugging. She took the diary into her hands and couldn't help but remark, "It feels warm to me."
"No way, that was bloody cold!" Anthony insisted. He showed her his hands, which were flushed red from where his grip was.
"I didn't take you for a diary type, Rochester," Maxine commented. She seemed slightly disappointed.
There was no way Lucy was going to allow herself to look lame in front of Maxine.
"I take notes in it," she defended immediately.
Cedric laughed. "That's what they all say."
Anthony turned over to punch him in the shoulder. "Don't tease my little lady, Piggory."
"You mean what you've been doing this entire time?" Daisy scoffed, while Cedric looked incredibly offended by this new nickname.
"Come off it, Locke, I've never annoyed anyone. Ever."
"I can assure you that you've annoyed me on a daily basis, Rickett. Even during summer, I can't help but feel it."
"So you think of me during summer?" Anthony said, waggling his eyebrows.
"That's it, I'm out," Lucy announced. She wrinkled her nose at the two's outright flirting as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "You people disgust me. Flirting in a child's dorm! What of my innocence?"
Cedric regarded her outraged expression with some consideration. Then he shrugged and said, "I sincerely doubt you've ever been innocent."
"How dare—!" She paused to think about it, and she reluctantly nodded in agreement. "Well, I'm still disgusted!" she said. "If anyone's got the right to flirt around here, it's Max and Heidi!"
"Damn right!" Maxine reached over, and they shared an epic fist bump. Lucy's knuckles hurt at the end of it.
"Yeesh, you're like made of metal," she mumbled, rubbing her knuckle. She shook her head. Tom was scowling at her side, and his growing annoyance was only going to end in her annoyance. She wanted to spend time with her other friends today, too. "I'll see you guys later. Try not to break my room— I wanted to do that myself."
"Should you be wandering on your own?" Daisy called at her retreating form.
"No," Lucy answered without stopping.
Soon enough she'd left the common room. She walked alongside Tom. His sour mood lightened once they left Anthony's presence. Honestly, 'Prince Charming' was one of his less infuriating nicknames for him. He and Lucy heard it all from 'Pretty Little Snitch Prince' to 'Nice-Arse', and that wasn't even touching on the amount of teasing he gave Lucy over it.
If this was what having a brother was like, Lucy didn't want it anymore.
At least she had Percy.
"I'm glad we've given up all pretenses of me not wandering alone," Lucy told him. She was dodging the cracks in the floor and looking like an absolute fool all the while, but Tom seemed amused.
"Either your attacker has given up, or they're plotting a specific time to strike," he mused. "Either way, I'd rather take the risk of you dying than spend another moment in Rickett's presence. He's fortunate that he's marginally useful for the time being."
"That sentence started off so well, but I think next time you should leave out the bit 'I'd rather you die than me be annoyed'," she scowled. He shrugged in reply. "And I wasn't talking about my lame, stupid idiot, worthless lump of a stalker—"
Tom shushed her, looking around them with a glare. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"Only slightly. Anyway! I was talking about the Heir," she emphasized. He stared blankly at her. "You know, the bloke who's been going around petrifying little muggleborn kids– except Susan, that was weird. I'm a prime target, Tom. I'm probably muggleborn–"
"I'm not convinced," he interjected.
She shrugged and continued talking anyway; she couldn't argue either way whether she was muggleborn or not. "–and I've joked about them nonstop. I'm surprised you haven't bothered me about it."
The corner of his mouth turned downward and in a slightly offended voice, he said, "So me making sure you don't die is considered bothering you, is it?"
"Yes, in fact, it is. And as the cleverest and most charming girl in the entire school, I'm going to have to ask you to stop." She sent him a smile to show she was joking, which seemed to subdue his natural response to become miffed. She wasn't a fan of having someone tell her what she could and couldn't do, but he meant well at the end of the day.
He reluctantly smiled back at her. "As the cleverest and most charming boy in the entire school, I'm going to have to decline."
"Life is hard for the beautiful, isn't it?"
"It most certainly is."
As intended, Lucy made it to the Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady always had something disapproving to say whenever she spotted the Hufflepuff tie, but she couldn't do anything about her presence when Lucy gave her the correct password each time. Sometimes the portrait tried to trick her by changing it frequently. Little did she know that Harry told her the new password as soon as he found it out himself. The Fat Lady was a fool if she thought she could keep them apart.
Perhaps having a rivalry with a painting was not a smart use of her time, but it sure was fun.
She stepped into the portrait hole and scanned the common room. Most unfortunately, there were only the Weasley twins and their many Gryffindor friends. She spotted Ginny and a few other first years in the corner and she was tempted to say hello, but they looked so absorbed in their game of Gobstones that she didn't dare interrupt. Nobody paid her any mind as she headed up the girls' staircase. She didn't make a habit of barging into Harry's dormitory when Seamus, Dean, and Neville were there.
As soon as she rounded the corner, Hermione crashed into her chest and sent a stack of books, and Lucy, falling to the ground. "Oh!" the other girl gasped and lunged down to pick them up. "I'm sorry, books!"
"Yeah, I sure hope those books are alright," Lucy grumbled, rubbing her sore elbow. Whoever decided that elbows should be so easily hurt was a fool. She pushed herself to her feet and took a few books out of her friend's hands to help her. "Alright, Hermione? Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"The library. I like my dorm mates, but they get a bit..." Hermione made a vague hand gesture that Lucy understood immediately.
"Chatty?"
"Exactly."
She grinned. "Here's my tip if you want to get rid of chatty roommates. First of all, have them accuse you of some sort of crime— doesn't matter which one, I personally recommend working alongside Old Voldy— and if that doesn't work, wait for them to get petrified."
A year ago Hermione might have been mortified at her joking manner, but now she only rolled her eyes and walked past her. "I'll keep that in mind," she said sarcastically. They fell into step with each other as they walked down the stairs and through the common room. "I hope the library's not as crowded as it was yesterday. Honestly, you'd think it was another common room! I understand that the fifth years need to study, but I think they'd get a lot more done if they stopped talking and started reading."
"What are you reading, anyway?" Lucy looked down at the topmost book in the stack she was holding. She pulled a face immediately. It read: Tips and Tricks from a Magical Author: Gilderoy Lockhart. "Lockhart? Hermione, why!"
"He handed them out at his writing club!" she defended, taking the book from Lucy and stowing it under her own pile. "Which you would know if you showed up like you promised you would!"
"I did not promise, I said I'd try. And I did try. I tried really hard to think about going for a full five seconds before I decided not to."
"That's cruel, Lucy. You're the one who gave him the idea."
"I did not! He walked in at the wrong moment—"
"Forget it, I know you're never going to go." Hermione sighed and shook her head, but through her exasperation, she couldn't help but smile. "I think it's better if you don't, actually. His clubs are so peaceful that I fear he'll cancel them if you ever show up. Let alone Harry. You two ruined the last club."
Lucy snorted. She wasn't wrong; she and Harry did manage to unintentionally traumatize most of the school. Who knew that a few hissing noises could get people so worked up?
"Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll leave Lockhart's club alone."
"That's all I ask."
They reached the entrance to the library, but to Hermione's dismay and Lucy's horror, the library was completely packed. Not only with other students, but it seemed that Anthony and the other badgers had relocated. She ducked out of the doorframe before they could notice her, dragging Hermione with her.
"Nope!" She said immediately, pulling her friend down the corridor with her. "Nope, nope, nope. No bloody way are we dealing with that. He's a menace, Hermione, a menace!"
"Who? Malfoy?"
"No. Well, yes, but not at this moment— never mind! We cannot go to the library, Hermione."
"Then where can we go?" Hermione groaned. "My arms are getting tired."
Well... If Anthony was in the library, that meant her room was empty. Free of any prefects and other nuisances. Lucy beamed, stopping in her tracks. She turned to look at Hermione with an excited smile.
"Wanna have a sleepover?"
Hermione's eyes lit up, and she smiled brilliantly back at her. "That sounds wonderful!"
Lucy was practically bouncing in place. She had a sleepover with Ron and Harry, but they were boys, and their idea of fun was playing game after game of exploding snap and talking about Quidditch. Harry at least talked about other stuff after Ron went to sleep, but still, she'd never had a sleepover with another girl before. Her dorm mates didn't really count, since they had to share a room. And with Hermione, she knew her friend was interested in the same topics she was, and since they were both in on the Chamber investigations, there wasn't any need to keep secrets.
She and Hermione slipped the books into Lucy's bag and then headed back to the Gryffindor tower to get more of Hermione's things. Once they got there, Ron and Harry were in the common room with Ginny. Harry complained at once when he learned she and Hermione were having their own night.
"So you hate us," he said sourly.
"Yes," Lucy said at the same time Hermione exclaimed, "No!"
Hermione elbowed her harshly in the side. Lucy plastered on a fake smile. "I mean, no, I don't, hahaha...hah...ha.."
"Ignore her," Hermione said. "And stop looking so pitiful, you two. You all had a whole Christmas break without me, and you boys had an entire month without Lucy and I. I have faith that you can last a night."
"But that's my best friend," Harry complained.
Lucy's resolve lessened slightly. "Dammit, Potter, don't do this!"
"We're leaving," Hermione said hastily. It was her turn to grab Lucy's arm and drag her away. She couldn't help but send a smug look at Harry as she left. He responded with a childish glare, while Ron looked very amused.
He nudged Harry after the girls left.
"Night for the lads?" he suggested.
Harry's eyes lit up with mischief. It was a good thing McGonagall wasn't there, or she might have mistaken him for his father. "Lads night," he agreed.
Lucy very quickly warned Tom about the impending twelve-year-old girl sleepover, and he had fixed her with such a horrified look that you'd think she'd just admitted to killing his mother. Without a word, he disappeared into the diary, likely not to surface for a day or two.
Hermione watched with barely contained excitement as Lucy led her to the Hufflepuff common room. Harry knew where it was, and he'd visited her a few times, but Hermione had never seen her dormitory before. The Gryffindor received a few curious looks when she entered the common room. Compare to the other houses, Hufflepuff tended to be the most secretive when it came to their common room. Even the Slytherins didn't give Lucy much thought when she entered.
"This—" Lucy opened her arms and gestured to the open space of her dormitory, "—is where I live!" And where she wished she could live the entire year long.
"It's so much bigger than my dorm," Hermione noted with surprise.
"Nah, it's just emptier," Lucy joked.
Hermione stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She couldn't help but grin when she saw Lucy's messy and cluttered desk. It was filled with papers of notes and stacks of books, along with a good amount of licorice wand wrappers.
Lucy had enough common sense to hide her Dark books under her bed, but even the ones on her desk were more advanced and questionable in nature than other second year books. For example, she had a copy of The Pureblood Directory in order to weed out potential 'Heirs of Slytherin'. It'd been Anthony's idea, but the more she read about the directory, the funnier she found it.
"What's that for?" Hermione spotted the book immediately. She wasn't suspicious like some of her old Hufflepuff friends would have been, but she seemed interested.
"Chamber research," Lucy explained. She picked the book up and brought it over to her bed. She motioned for Hermione to join her, and after she set her own bag down, she did. Lucy flipped open the book and showed her the list. "These families are called the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'. Dramatic, right? It's a list of the 'purest' pureblood families."
"Ron's family is on that list!"
"Yes, but there's not any basis for the list at all." This was the part that cracked Lucy up so much. "Some anonymous person decided to write this list back in the early 30s, and everyone simply went with it. The Weasleys argued against it and said they had muggle blood in their ancestry, so that's how the word 'Blood-Traitor' started getting thrown around."
"I should have known Malfoy would be on there," Hermione scoffed. She took the book into her hands and paged through it. "Have you found anything from it yet?"
"No, it's just the list and then all the 'ancestral proof' for it. There's not much help in who came after this."
As the night went on, it became clear that Lucy and Hermione were not going to have the typical sleepover meant for girls their ages. Rather than chatting about boys and sports, they discussed their theories about the Chamber of Secrets. Apart from the Worm— which Lucy wasn't entirely sure was out of the realm of possibility— they speculated on whether or not Hagrid could have accidentally opened it after all. From Tom's account, and his memory, Hagrid had kept the spider in a hidden dungeon. Could that have been the Chamber? Could the Acromantula have returned? That was what they wanted to know.
"I want to ask Hagrid about the Acromantula, but there's no way to bring that up," Hermione sighed.
She was laying on Megan's bed, which they'd pushed up to face Lucy's. Both girls lay on their stomach facing each other, various books spread out between them. They even had a huge bowl of sweets that Daisy had been kind enough to bring them. In true Hermione fashion, she was wearing her nightgown and pink bathrobe. (It was the same one that she wore when she confronted Lucy and the boys about their duel, but she wasn't about to bring that up).
Lucy had on her Wool's issued gray pajama shorts and, of course, her Weasley sweater. Anthony had stretched it out when he tried it on as a joke, and the fact that it was still comfortable and soft was a testament to Mrs. Weasley's knitting skills.
She reached for a peppermint, looking thoughtfully at the window above them. "I suppose we'll have to wait for another attack. If there is another attack. I wonder why they've stopped."
"That's what I'd like to know too. There's so much that doesn't add up. Why did the Heir attack Susan Bones if she's a Pureblood? Why does Harry hear a voice before the attacks? Why are they being petrified, when last year someone died?"
Lucy had forgotten that Harry heard a voice before the attacks. "I want to know why only Harry could hear the monster," she muttered, resting her chin on her hand. "Wish I was there."
"Oh yeah, you were in the Hospital Wing that time, weren't you? What happened again?"
"I was sick, and I just collapsed, I guess." Lucy frowned. She'd been so excited to go to the Death Day party, too. At least she sort of got to celebrate Halloween with Tom; she'd woken up just before midnight, and they played chess. "It feels like a million years ago. This year's really gone by strangely."
"Every year has. I still can't believe I'm a witch," Hermione laughed. "We used to not like each other."
"I wouldn't say dislike... I just thought you were really annoying."
"Me too."
"See, now that's perfectly reasonable, because I am very annoying. And proud of it!" To prove how annoying she was, Lucy threw a chocolate frog at Hermione. It hit her friend in the shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes. "But I know what you mean. Two years ago I was a sorry little shite wallowing in an orphanage. Now, I can summon a huge, magical mist and traumatize an entire school and faculty. Isn't it strange how life works out?"
"For the record, I still don't approve of that spell."
"One of us has to be the questionable one," Lucy told her. "Otherwise we'd be less efficient. And if there's one thing I, Lucille Eva Gina Esmee Naomi Diana Eleine Rochester, can stand by, it's that I am very efficient. They don't call me Legender for nothing."
"No one calls you Legender."
"They all call me Legender."
Hermione gave her one of those looks that Lucy was all too used to. It was one that both looked too tired to communicate to her how foolish she sounded, yet at the same time, told her exactly how much of an idiot she was. After a few moments of this, Hermione decided to move on without addressing that.
"Why did you choose the name Rochester anyway? I've been wondering for a while," Hermione said. She shoved her book to the side, giving up all pretenses of studying. "It sounds quite specific."
Lucy's lips quirked upward. She was surprised nobody had asked sooner. She supposed the boys had, when she first picked it, but there wasn't much time to explain her reasoning. She thought it was a bit silly of her, herself.
"I assume you've read Jane Eyre?" She said, already knowing the answer. Hermione had likely read every classic novel on the planet, and then some.
"Edward Rochester," Hermione nodded, smiling. "I didn't think he was very charming myself."
"Oh, neither did I. I thought he was perfectly grumpy— but I like grumpy people. They always have such interesting stories."
Jane Eyre had been one of the few stories she'd actually liked growing up, because she saw it as more than a tale of fiction. She remembered finding the battered book in Wool's staff room as a little girl. There was no cover, and the name on the spine was fading, but she was bored enough to give it a try. She adored that book, and sitting in front of Hermione, she felt like she might be able to explain why.
"I felt a lot like Jane when I was reading it," Lucy said with a slightly hesitant smile. "Everyone thought there was something wrong with her, too. They were mean to her because she was different and they all thought she was bad. And then, she went away from the Reeds and went to school, just like me."
Hermione looked touched, both by her reasoning and because she was telling her in the first place. "I would hope you'd find someone better than Edward, but I think Rochester is a lovely last name," she said softly. "If I had to pick a last name, I think I'd pick Wormwood."
"Like from Matilda?" Lucy couldn't help but laugh. "Blimey, that would get you bullied, Hermione."
"Nobody bullies Neville, and his last name is Longbottom!" Hermione laughed as well. "I used to think I was Matilda. I could do all the same things as she could. Sadly, I didn't make as many friends as her."
"Maybe those can be our code names," Lucy suggested. "You'll be Matilda and I'll be Jane. Deal?"
"Deal."
They shook on it.
The days flew by quickly, to the point where Lucy was beginning to get perturbed. She didn't want the school year to end. Everything was finally all right. The attacks had stopped, her own stalker showed no signs of escalating anything, and it wouldn't be long before the petrified victims woke up. She didn't want to go back to Wool's. Even with Tom there and her trips to Diagon Alley, there were still hours of maddening boredom to fight through; she'd have to deal with countless whispers and hushed laughter from the other children.
She tried not to think about it, and instead she focused on enjoying her time at Hogwarts as much as she could. It was very easy.
She spent her days dodging Lockhart's attempts to recruit her to his club and having glaring matches with Professor Snape. She'd bicker with Draco Malfoy in her classes, and then she and Harry would annoy each other in theirs.
Every afternoon, she'd sit on the bleachers and watch her Hufflepuffs practice for the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin. Cedric and Anthony were still firm in their decision to keep her grounded until they sniffed out her assailant, and while she was a little disappointed, she didn't mind too much. It just meant that she wouldn't have to lose against Harry Potter.
Today, the Slytherins had the pitch reserved shortly after the Hufflepuffs, so most of them were lingering in the bleachers as well. Flint, Pucey, and Bletchley were all sitting near the top of the stands, but Lucy was at the bottom next to Montague and Malfoy.
"Remind me why you're not out there again?" Malfoy said as he stroked the bristles of his broomstick. He wasn't being annoying today, and so Lucy decided to hold back her insults as well.
She watched as Anthony shrieked and dodged a bludger from Maxine. "Some specky git's trying to kill me, remember?"
"Oh, right. They haven't found the person yet?"
"Nope," she said, unbothered. "Seems like a bad time to try and scare someone, with the other attacks and all that. I think it gets lost in the mix, doesn't it?"
"Throwing someone off a staircase is a little more than 'scaring' someone, Rochester," he said wryly.
"Not to me it isn't! I'm Lucy Rochester. I met Voldemort, did you know?"
She snickered at the disturbed look on Malfoy's face, paired with the absolute shock of Montague. Up until now, the older boy had been watching the Hufflepuffs practicing, but now he was completely interested.
"You met the Dark Lord?" Montague repeated incredulously.
"Oh, yes. We were great friends," Lucy said sarcastically.
Once again, Malfoy looked uncomfortable. Montague was still staring at her intently. She supposed it was a bigger deal to these older Slytherins, since they'd heard about Voldemort's reign more than probably anyone else. She wouldn't doubt if a few of his relatives were Death Eaters, and she wouldn't blame him for it, either.
"This might sound bad— and forgive me if it is— but then why are you alive? Aren't you Muggleborn?"
Instantly, Malfoy sneered at Montague. Lucy reckoned it was more because he was implying that Malfoy would willingly sit next to a Muggleborn more than anything else. "There's no way of knowing," she said, shrugging. "I'm an Orphan. Anyway, I'm sure he'd have killed me for something other than my past— likely because I'm bloody annoying."
"So you are self aware," Malfoy marveled.
She pulled a face at him. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"What was he like?" Montague questioned further. He ignored Malfoy entirely and the younger boy took extreme offense to that. Since Malfoy was one of the only one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he expected more respect, even from the older Slytherins.
"Voldemort?" She blinked at him. No one had wanted to know before; they found it too taboo a topic.
"No, Dumbledore," he said, rolling his eyes. "And you shouldn't call him by his name. It's disrespectful."
"To who? Him?" Lucy couldn't help but laugh. She tried to be polite to her older friends, but this was one subject she wasn't about to compromise on. Avoiding the name gave him more power. Of course, she wouldn't mind avoiding it around particularly sensitive people, but around the Slytherins? He had to be joking. "Hate to break it to you, mate, but Voldy killed my friend's parents— I'm not going to be respecting him anytime soon."
"That's the spirit, Lucy," Tom said absently. She nearly jumped at his voice, and she now became aware he'd been standing behind her. For how long, she had no idea. Yeesh, he was creepy sometimes.
"Rochester's never respectful or respectable," Malfoy added.
She scowled and elbowed him in the side, to which he shot her a scornful glance. What did he expect her response to be? Idiot.
Montague chuckled. "I suppose not..." he mused. He looked over his shoulder at Flint, who motioned for him to come nearer. "I'll see you around, Rochester. Try and keep that mouth of yours under control— not everyone's as unbothered as me." With one last wave, he left.
Tom took his spot and glared after him. "I told you to stay away from him," he muttered.
And she was, but Montague sat next to her. She wasn't about to tell him to go away. Besides, Tom didn't like her hanging around any older boys, regardless of their character. He was mistrustful all around.
"I never liked that fellow," Malfoy scoffed as he stared at the Quidditch pitch. "He's always walking around like he owns the place. He wouldn't take one of my father's broomsticks— he bought his own."
Suddenly, Lucy liked him a lot more.
"That evil man," she said with mock-sympathy.
"Maybe so. I wouldn't mention the Dark Lord around him." For once, he looked quite serious. It caught her off guard. "Flint raves about the Dark Lord all the time— and don't tell anyone I'm telling you this. Montague's likely going to repeat whatever you say back to Flint. He's practically his goon."
"Like Crabbe and Goyle are your goons?"
"Exactly." Malfoy looked proud about it, too. "Anyway, I think it's a shame you can't play. I don't know which would be more funny— Potter losing to you, or you losing in general."
She elbowed him again, harder this time. "Gee, thanks, Malfoy! And here I thought we were having a moment!"
"I warned you, didn't I? That's plenty kind," he said, shrugging. "The staircases shouldn't have fallen in the first place. If we had a different headmaster, it wouldn't have happened at all, in my opinion."
She refrained from rolling her eyes. Everything Malfoy said was in his opinion. "Dumbledore couldn't have known something like that would have happened any more than he could have predicted Mrs. Norris getting petrified."
"I wish someone else would get petrified," Malfoy complained. Evidently, he'd forgotten that Lucy wasn't one of his Slytherin buddies and that she would disagree on everything he had to say about the matter. "The attacks stopped at the worst moment. If there was one more attack— just one more— Dumbledore would be sacked."
Tom perked up from beside her. Lucy, however, scoffed.
"There's no way. First of all, Dumbledore's been the Headmaster for ages. Secondly, what would that accomplish? If anyone has a chance of protecting the students, it's him."
"Really? Then why are there four students petrified right now?" Malfoy countered. "Did you know what Hogwarts used to be like, Rochester? There used to be Yule and Hallow's Eve and Spring balls. They taught Alchemy and Warding courses."
"It's true," Tom spoke up. "The Hallow's Eve ball was particularly popular, and I needn't remind you about the Dueling championship."
"Did it ever occur to you that they had to stop?" Lucy said, directing the question at both of them. "The Wizarding War was happening in the 70s. That would have been a huge security threat, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Hogsmeade trips were cancelled for a while too. When was the last Yule ball?"
Malfoy didn't answer, probably because the answer was that it stopped sometime in the 70s.
"As for Warding and Alchemy courses, I think Dumbledore would bring them back as long as students were interested."
"Merlin, don't tell me you're a Dumbledore lover." Malfoy's sneer was becoming more cruel now.
She snorted. "No, I'm not. But there's no use blaming him for things he didn't even do. I don't like Snape either, but I wouldn't blame him if he decided that certain cauldrons were too dangerous, and I certainly wouldn't fire him if a student exploded their pwm cauldron."
Tom looked like he appreciated her argument. He liked hearing debates with actual merit, and Lucy liked having them. The problem was, with most people, they didn't want to listen to what the opposing side had to say. She was impressed that Malfoy hadn't thrown a fit yet.
To his credit, Malfoy tilted his head. "We'll have to agree to disagree, Rochester. Whether or not Dumbledore's the best man for it, it's decided— my father's on the board of Governors. One more attack, and Dumbledore's suspended."
"Your father's a strange man, Malfoy."
"Since he took a liking to you, I am going to have to agree."
She tried not to grin but failed. No matter what she thought about Malfoy, she couldn't deny that he was quick with his comebacks. Their conversation had ended just in time. Cedric decided to take pity on Anthony, since their practice was turning into more of a wrestling match between him and Maxine. She watched as her friends walked sluggishly over to her.
Anthony, caked in mud, wrapped his arms around her, smearing the mud on her robes. She groaned and shoved at his chest, to no avail. "Anthony, you're rotten!" She complained.
"Huffle-Up, my lady!" he replied, tugging her along. He looked back at Malfoy and glared at him over his shoulder. He remembered the younger boy's cruel words to her before Christmas break last year, and so he made the 'I'm watching you' gesture. Malfoy looked offended and a little nervous.
"Have you found who's going to fill my place yet, Ced?" Lucy asked, brushing the mud off her robes. Daisy had mercy on her and cast a quick Scourgify. She smiled thankfully at the prefect.
"Nope! I'll probably grab a random Puff and stick them on a broom," Cedric replied happily.
Herbert stared at him. "You're a terrible captain, you know that?"
"I'm a fun captain," Cedric corrected. "I'm all for trying our best, but the point of Quidditch is to have fun. This year especially, I'd rather us have a wonderful time than worry about losing."
"You will lose, by the way," Lucy told him. "There's no way you'll win against Harry. He's the best. The best ever. The best Seeker in the entire world—"
"We get it, he's your best friend!" Heidi groaned. "Thanks for the pep talk, Rochester."
"Anything for you, Heidi," she grinned.
As they discussed more strategies, Lucy looked behind them to see Tom trailing after them. He was staring at the ground with a smile curling on his lips. His eyes seemed calculating, and as soon as she looked at him, his eyes snapped up to meet hers. He smiled wider, showing a set of pearly whites. She arched an eyebrow, chuckled, and then looked away.
Someone was in a good mood today.
Lucy fell asleep earlier than she thought she would last night. She was going to read more on Legilimency, but after Tom nagged at her for five minutes, she suddenly woke up in her bed bright and early. She rubbed at her eyes as she sat up. She didn't remember having a nightmare, which was nice, but she didn't appreciate the faint whispering.
"Ready for Quidditch?" Tom asked.
She made a surprised noise and reflexively raised her fists. She relaxed once she saw him sitting at her desk, his legs kicked on the surface of it. "Give me a warning next time," she complained.
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Well aren't you sprightly," she muttered. She dragged her feet to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. It was a good thing she'd woken up; it was about halfway through breakfast and she knew how Harry got before Quidditch matches.
She left dressed in her muggle jeans and an old, green sweater. She found that whenever she wore green, Tom was in brighter spirits. He could scoff about how absorbed the Gryffindors were in their House Pride all he wanted, but he was the exact same way. She picked her satchel up on the way out and then headed to the Great Hall.
She was surprised to see the Hufflepuff team eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table. Oliver Wood looked suspicious too, but it seemed that Cedric wanted to have a friendly time with the other team before they inevitably crushed Hufflepuff into dust. Besides, now that they were in on the Chamber investigations, they talked with Ron, Harry and Hermione more often.
Lucy sat down next to Harry and gave him a welcoming hug. "Nervous?" she questioned, grinning at him.
"Not as much, now that you're not playing," he snickered. She shoved him lightly, which he returned. "Are you disappointed at all?"
"A bit, at first. But there's always next year," she shrugged. She called over to Cedric, "Have you found a chaser yet, you git?!"
He looked away from Oliver to beam at her. "Nope! I'll grab someone in the stands and see what happens."
"That's a terrible idea!"
Cedric smiled again and turned back to his conversation.
Lucy sighed. "Yeah, you're definitely going to win this one, Harry."
He patted her on the head with a smile. "I'll make it quick."
"I think that's for the best."
They left a little before breakfast ended to get Harry's Quidditch things. This time, Daisy and Anthony accompanied them. According to Daisy, they'd had a prefect meeting not too long ago, and the Head Boy and Girl shamed all of them for neglecting their escorting duties. They said just because the attacks had stopped for now, it didn't mean they shouldn't be so lenient.
Lucy had her diary out right now. She was used to writing in it around her Gryffindor friends in class, and so she forgot that the other two weren't as familiar. Oh, well. She was having Tom give her spell incantations in case something terrible happened during Harry's Quidditch match. She might be being paranoid but in her experience, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Anthony took this as an opportunity to do what he did best; tease Lucy.
"Look at ickle Lucy writing in her diary," he cooed. Unfortunately, the picture of Tom was sticking out of it. "I know I'm not your precious big, strong Tom Riddle, but I am still the best man in Hogwarts!" He said, puffing out his chest.
Ron cast him an amused look. "Blimey, you're worse than the twins."
"I take that as a compliment!"
"You really shouldn't," Lucy deadpanned.
Anthony snickered and plucked the picture out of the diary. "Don't get me wrong, I know why you like him— he's a dreamboat!"
"You weren't exaggerating, were you?" Harry whispered to Lucy in a horrified voice. She'd complained to him all too often about Anthony's teasing. Most of the day, she was delighted to spend time with Anthony, but there was always one interval of time where he decided that he must tease Lucy relentlessly. It was the price she had to pay for having such a great friend.
She looked at Harry grimly. No, no she was not exaggerating.
"You know I'm not going to stop until you admit it," Anthony told her after she didn't dignify him with a response.
She rolled her eyes. Well, if that was all it would take, she'd gladly lie to him. They were approaching the marble staircase when she stopped to look Anthony dead in the eyes. In a completely monotone voice, she said, "You caught me, Anthony. I, Lucille Rochester, am in love with a fifty year old dead guy named Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Two things happened at once.
First, Anthony stopped in his tracks.
Then Harry let out a shout as a voice split through the air.
"Kill this time... let me rip... Tear..."
Lucy let out a gasp as she jumped backward, looking at the ceiling. "What was that—?"
Harry turned to her with wide eyes. "You heard it too?!"
"Yes, I heard it too! That was freaky! What the hell was that!"
She'd never heard anything like it. It wasn't... well, human. It was hardly even a voice. She'd compare it to a distorted whisper, both loud and impossibly quiet at the same time, and she heard it moving from above and behind them. She turned to stare at the wall. "It wants to kill someone," she repeated.
"Why can you two hear it, and we can't?" Daisy asked, perturbed. Next to her, Anthony had a hand on his chin. His brow was furrowed.
Hermione looked between Harry and Lucy as well, and then she gasped loudly, clapping a hand to her forehead. "I think I've just understood something! I've got to go the library!"
Before anyone could stop her, she tore off up the staircase.
Lucy went to go after her, but Anthony held up a hand to stop her. "We'll get her," he said in a strange voice. "Go to the Quidditch pitch, Lucy. Tell Cedric he'll have to fill someone in for me."
"What are you—?"
Without another word, Anthony ran after her.
Daisy looked conflicted, but ultimately, she decided that Anthony was acting too strangely to ignore. "I'll go get him Lucy. Stay together, you three! We'll be right back!" And with that, she ran after them.
Harry, Ron, and Lucy all shared a confused look. Lucy was more concerned than the other two, but it was nearing eleven o'clock, and she didn't want to let Cedric down. "Let's get your stuff, Harry," she said, staring after them. "They'll tell us later."
Harry nodded. And with that, they set off for the Quidditch pitch.
Anthony Rickett was not as dumb as he presented himself.
Well, he wouldn't call himself dumb— neither would his professors, for that matter, he was bloody awesome— but he wasn't as ignorant as he seemed. He knew when something was amiss with his friends. He knew when there were dark inner workings happening in his beloved school. And most of all, he had an impeccable memory.
He caught up with Hermione Granger as quickly as he could. First of all, it wasn't wise of the kid to run off on her own, but he'd leave that matter for another day. She shot him a somewhat relieved glance when he ran alongside her.
"Library," he said, nodding at her.
They practically burst in through the doors. The entire place was empty, even the front desk was vacated. Hermione ran to the bookshelves, while Anthony hurried into the restricted section. He ducked under the velvet rope easily with no one to stop him. His heart was hammering in his chest like his life depended on it, and in his mind, it did. Something was wrong here.
He knew he was annoying Lucy. It was what he was aiming to do in the first place; her reactions were hilarious, and it was good for her to have someone not take her seriously once in a while. She was influential enough on her own to the point where it sometimes worried him. When he teased her about Tom Riddle, he was only partly joking.
He knew she wasn't in love with Tom Riddle. But, underlying that, he knew she wasn't... Well, there was something weird about how she talked about him. It was like she knew him. He could understand having a certain student as a role model, but how could she have known he was a duelling champion in his Hogwarts years? There were no awards for that anywhere, and it wasn't until he dug up an old Daily Prophet article that he found it out for himself.
Anthony found Riddle's account to be somewhat fake in nature. His words were too innocent; each word was finely crafted to point to one, obvious outcome. Hagrid killed the student. I am the good guy. And so, Anthony dug up everything he could on this guy.
No matter what he found, how much obscure information he dug up, Lucy always seemed to know more.
He'd mention when Riddle was admitted to Wool's Orphanage files. She'd reply with, 'I know, and he had my room, too.' How could she possibly know that? She clearly wasn't lying.
He'd show her that Riddle worked at Borgin and Burkes. She'd say, 'I know, and that was the last anyone ever saw of him'. Anthony didn't want to be suspicious, but... come on. That was weird.
The most maddening part about all of this was that he couldn't find anything wrong with Tom Riddle. His entire background and Hogwarts career pointed to nothing but a spectacular young man. A young orphan boy growing into a magical prodigy. He was respected by all his teachers, and everyone liked him. Anthony just wasn't convinced.
And then Lucy said it. The missing link to all of this.
Tom.
Marvolo.
Riddle.
He found the book immediately; it was one he'd scoured many times in the past couple of weeks, and he'd once considered it a dead end. How foolish he had been. The Pureblood Directory was a common enough book, and its contents weren't very inspiring. It simply contained the lineage of twenty-eight wizarding families up until the thirties. There was one particular line he'd studied endlessly, because he knew it to be the remnants of Slytherin's line.
The Gaunts.
He dropped the book on the table and flipped through the pages so quickly that he might have torn a couple.
Hermione rushed over to him, breathless from her own search. Daisy had arrived too, and she was staring at the pair of them cautiously.
"Anthony? What's happened? What have you found? Are you alright?" Daisy, lovely, beautiful Daisy asked him. He was too focused to be overtaken by her concern for him, but he'd definitely linger on that later.
"What do you know about Lucy and Tom Riddle, Hermione?" Anthony asked, instead of answering. He didn't mean to be rude, but he had to find out. Something strange was going on.
"She really likes him, but Anthony, I've found—"
"We'll get to that later, Hermione. I need you to work with me here. Has Lucy been behaving strangely to you?"
Hermione looked tempted to say 'more so than usual?' but she kindly refrained. She squared her shoulders and recited everything she'd noticed. "Well, she's awfully protective of Riddle's name, but you know that already. She's just had the ability to speak Parseltongue, and— oh, do you know that diary of hers?"
Anthony snapped his head over to look at her. Yeah, he did know about that freezing cold book.
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, looking slightly chagrined. "Well— I was curious once, and I..."
"You looked in it?" Daisy sounded scandalized.
"Save the judgement for later, love," Anthony advised. His eyes were trained on Hermione. She wouldn't be mentioning it if it wasn't pertinent. "And...?"
"Well, that's just it. There was nothing in it! She writes in it every day and she always has it on her, but it's completely blank. It looks quite old, too."
That was interesting. He needed to know more. He had one thing figured out, but now he had to fit Lucy into that somewhere. He felt like he was on the right track. "Did you notice anything else about the journal?"
"It had initials on the inside—" Hermione suddenly gasped. She nearly jumped at the sudden realization. "It's TMR! The initials are TMR!"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Daisy repeated. She crossed over to the table, pacing back and forth. "This is weird, you guys. Why is she writing in Tom Riddle's diary?"
"Why does she know all this stuff about him?" Anthony added.
"And why can only she and Harry hear the monster?" Hermione finished. She brought out what she was holding in her hand; it was a crumpled piece of paper, torn out of a library book. Anthony knew at once how drastic things must be right now, because there was no way Hermione Granger would have vandalized a library book willingly. "I've found the answer to that. They can both speak Parseltongue! And I went to thinking about all the monsters I've researched— and it's a Basilisk!"
"A Basilisk..." Daisy repeated. She was unfamiliar with Care of Magical creatures, but Anthony nodded along. Of course! How did he not realize it sooner?
"Think about it— looking into a Basilisk's eyes kills you immediately. But what if you're not looking at it directly? Mrs. Norris was found near a puddle. So was Megan and Susan, and Justin was looking through Nearly Headless Nick. Colin was looking through his camera lenses. And, a Basilisk is killed by a rooster's crow— Hagrid's roosters were all killed this year! Harry and Lucy heard it, because it's a giant snake! It makes perfect sense!"
Hermione crumpled the paper back up and then looked at the other two, determined. "We have to tell a professor!"
"Yes, and we definitely will!" Anthony agreed. This was too important not to consult Dumbledore with. "But, there's one other thing I've realized— you said Lucy has only been able to speak Parseltongue this year, right?"
"That's what she told us," Hermione nodded. She rocked back and forth on her heels, eager to leave the library. They would, in a minute or so.
"And Parseltongue is a hereditary trait. So that doesn't make any sense, does it?"
Anthony jabbed his finger at a certain name in the directory, then with his other hand, he motioned for the girls to come closer. They shared a curious look before coming to look.
It was the second to last generation before the Gaunt line ended.
Marvolo Gaunt.
"Tom. Marvolo. Riddle," Anthony said, his voice tight. "Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago and blamed it on Hagrid. He is the Heir of Slytherin." He looked up at Daisy and Hermione with wide eyes. "And somehow, he's communicating with Lucy."
Hermione looked terrified, while Daisy put her face in her hands. "How—?" She believed him, but she was still confused. "How can that be possible? Riddle went to Hogwarts fifty years ago."
"You said that diary had nothing inside of it, Hermione? And yet she's writing in it all the time?" Anthony repeated.
Daisy's face turned a few shades paler. She looked quite faint. "You mean—? Tom Riddle's been writing back to her?"
"It's only a theory, and I might be entirely wrong... But I really don't think I am. I think we have to find Dumbledore and tell him everything right now."
He started toward the library exit, but Hermione lunged forward to grab his arm. "Wait!" she cried. "Harry's heard the Basilisk for the first time in months. That means it's looking to attack someone! We'll need protection."
"Excellent thinking, Hermione."
Daisy pulled out her wand and pointed it at the bell on the librarian's desk. In a remarkable display of transfiguration, it turned into a mirror.
At the last minute, Anthony ripped the page out of The Pureblood Directory and circled Marvolo Gaunt in ink. Next to it, he wrote, Heir. He was worried something terrible would happen if they didn't hurry, so he quickly handed the paper over to Hermione.
"Hold both of them," he told her. "We're going to leave the castle quickly, but cautiously. Hermione, you hold the mirror and look in it first, alright? I want to make sure you don't accidentally look the Basilisk in the eyes."
"Will Lucy be alright?" Hermione whispered. She understood the gravity of the situation and what the implications of her friend talking to the Heir of Slytherin implied. If the Heir gave her the ability to speak Parseltongue, there was only one logical conclusion for why.
"As long as we find Dumbledore immediately, she will be. I promise," Anthony said. And he meant it with all his heart.
Before they left the library, Daisy reached over and grabbed Anthony's hand. "You're brilliant, Anthony," she told him.
He squeezed her hand, giving her a half-smile. "I know, Daisy. Now let's go and save the school."
"What do you mean Daisy and Anthony are gone?! Are they insane?!" Maxine demanded. She was absolutely furious, pacing back and forth on the Quidditch pitch.
Lucy winced. She would never forgive Anthony for making her break the news to the rest of the team. While Cedric was easy going about Quidditch, he didn't appreciate his friends slacking off when they'd made a commitment. "Sorry, Max, but they just left! I'm sure it was for a good reason!" she tried to defend.
"Good reason my arse! They're probably off snogging in a cupboard!"
Maxine looked ready to kill someone. Heidi lay a placating hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Lucy's right, Max— this isn't like Anthony, and it's certainly not Daisy's normal behavior."
Maxine's jaw twitched, and she took in a calming breath. Then she jabbed a finger in Lucy's direction. "You're playing today, Rochester. Damn what Cedric says. Just because we're not going to win doesn't mean we're going to make a joke of ourselves in front of the entire school!"
She wasn't opposed to the idea, but now was hardly the time for her to hop on a broomstick. "I'm not even in my robes—" she began to protest.
"The Quidditch Rulebook says nothing about Quidditch robes being mandatory," Herbert recited. He wasn't pleased either, but he was trying to contain himself. Cedric was off dragging some poor suckers from the Hufflepuff section into playing Quidditch, untrained, in front of the entire school. "We'll keep an extra eye on you this match, Rochester. If anything suspicious happens, we'll stop the game immediately."
Maxine didn't look like she agreed, but she didn't say it.
Cedric finally returned, dragging an amused Ross Meadowes and a horrified Wayne Hopkins along with him.
Lucy blinked at Ross. "Didn't you graduate last year?"
"Yes, but I like to watch the matches. Didn't expect to be playing in one." Ross shot Cedric a pointed look.
Cedric shrugged, "It's not my fault two of my players skived."
"It's not mine either!" Wayne added. He crossed his arms over his chest, huffing. "I can't even play Quidditch, and what do you want me to do?"
"You're a Beater!" Cedric beamed.
Ross scowled and whacked Cedric upside the head. "Quit being a menace, that's Anthony's job! I'll be the Beater. Wayne, just try your best, alright? You'll laugh on this memory in a few years."
It seemed that the divine heavens were in Wayne's favor today, because just then, McGonagall's voice erupted through the megaphone.
"The match has been cancelled," she said.
The stadium erupted in boos and shouts. A feeling of dread settled in Lucy's stomach, but it was for different reasons than everyone else. Quidditch matches weren't just cancelled. Something happened. It had to do with that disjointed voice she and Harry heard.
Lucy darted over to Harry, ignoring Cedric calling after her. She found him and placed her hand through his. He squeezed hers, and she could feel the same amount of nerves coursing through him.
"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms," McGonagall continued, "Where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"
She lowered the megaphone and gestured for Harry, Ron, and Lucy to come closer. "I think you'd better come with me..." she said gravely.
They shared a nervous look and then followed the professor to the castle. Everything was silent. They didn't dare say a word, and even if they would, they had nothing to say.
"This will be a bit of the shock..." McGonagall said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "There has been another attack... another triple attack."
Tom appeared at Lucy's side. He glanced down at her stunned face as she entered the infirmary.
Daisy and Anthony lay in two beds pushed nearer to each other. Through her shock, she wondered why, and then she saw it— their hands were tightly clasped together. Next to them, Hermione lay staring terrified at the ceiling.
"Hermione!" Ron groaned.
Lucy was completely silent.
"They were found near the library..." Professor McGonagall said. "I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them..." And she held up a small, circular mirror.
Tom tilted his head at it.
"I'll escort you two back to Gryffindor tower, and I shall return for you, Ms. Rochester. I don't think I shall have to warn you to stay put."
Harry shot Lucy a concerned look, but he had no choice but to follow his Head of House.
Lucy stayed standing perfectly still. Her eyes were fixated on three of her dearest friends.
"Lucy?" Tom said softly. He lay a hand on her shoulder. "They're not dead, Lucy— they'll be alright in a few weeks."
Her gaze turned steely. She felt an ugly, cold anger brewing in the pit of her chest.
"Who did this?" she said, and her voice was filled with a threat. A promise. "Who did this?"
Tom was silent. But as he looked at the dark expression on her face, the way her hand had pulled her wand out of her pocket, he seemed a little appreciative. "At least it's not you, Lucy," he told her. When she looked at him, ready to snap, she paused. He was giving her a look filled with soft concern. "I can't imagine how you're feeling right now, but if I were to put a name to it, I'd imagine it would be the same if I saw you laying in that bed."
He moved his hand down to hers, and he held it over hers. After a moment, she returned it. She wasn't entirely holding his hand, but she could pretend.
"Thank you, Tom," she said softly.
He smiled down at her.