One night, when the whole Second year of Slytherin were studying, Blaise stood up too quickly and spilt Davis' ink all over Rebekah's school bag. The WItch wasn't annoyed by it, just said that she had enough of studying and decided to call it a night.

Her items had been completely soaked in bright red ink, staining her hands as she lifted each item out and cleaned them with a spell. The little book that belonged to T M Riddle hadn't been touched by the ink, strange as everything else was soaked and the book was on top.

Rebekah grabbed an inkpot she had, being it a gift, she couldn't just bin it, she poured a few drops onto the clean pages and watched as the ink glowed and vanished within an instance. For some reason, she became excited and grabbed a fountain pen and began writing.

"My name is Rebekah Potter," She wrote and watched the ink shine for a moment before it sunk into the paper. Then words Rebekah had never written appeared in its place.

"Hello, Rebekah Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"

So her suspicions were right when she had first read the book's contents. "Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."

"What do you mean?"

I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"I'm at Hogwarts at the moment, and I believe that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."

"Who was it last time?" She didn't want to waste ink on unneeded questions.

"I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."

Rebekah was cautious, this was the book to the man who would one day come and kill her parents. But what did he mean? She knew of memory magic but not to this extent. Could she be taken into someone else's memory?

"Let me show you."

With no hesitation, she wrote her agreement and she was brought into the Headmaster's office. It wasn't Dumbledore's office, it was Dippet's. He had been Riddle's Headmaster when he attended Hogwarts. Rebekah doubted the man would hear her if she said anything but she had to be sure.

"Hello?" She said clearly and got no response, nodding to herself as a boy a few years older than her came in. He was much taller than her but he was handsome enough. He wore a prefect's badge on his chest as he took off his pointed hat.

"Ah, Riddle," The Headmaster said as he came in.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" Riddle said, looking around nervously.

"Sit down," Dippet said. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," Riddle wrung his hands together before clasping them in his lap tightly.

"My dear boy," Dippet shook his head. "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," Riddle said instantly. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?"

"Yes, sir," The boy reddened a touch in embarrassment.

"You are MuggleBorn?"

"Half-blood, sir," Riddle said, almost proud. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents — ?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

"The thing is, Tom," Dippet sighed, "special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances. . . ."

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" Riddle's voice was controlled, she did the same thing when she wanted answers but didn't want to be found out.

"Precisely," Dippet grinned but then it dropped. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy . . . the death of that poor little girl. . . . You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness. . . ."

"Sir — if the person was caught — if it all stopped —"

"What do you mean?" Dippet sat up in his chair with a wary glance. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," Riddle stated instantly.

It was the same type of 'No' that Rebekah used when she lied profusely about something.

Dippet looked disappointed at his words. "You may go, Tom. . . ."

Rebekah followed the prefect, quickly keeping up. He thought long and hard about something, placing the pros against the cons as he bit his lip and furrowed his forehead. He came to decision and he hurried off in the direction of the dungeons.

A younger Dumbledore came down from the staircase, with auburn hair and matching beard as he called out to Riddle, "What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

"I had to see the headmaster, sir,"

"Well, hurry off to bed," Dumbledore waved him off to the dungeons, looking over his glasses suspiciously but Riddle remained calm. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since . . ."

Riddle carefully watched the older Wizard walk off before almost dashing down the corridor. Rebekah knew that look, he figured something out. He wanted to place the blame onto someone else, he didn't want to go back to the orphanage if he could help it. It was easier to blame someone if he could easily incriminate them. Why wouldn't he if he could get his way?

"C'mon . . . gotta get yeh outta here. . . . C'mon now . . . in the box . . ."

The voice was familiar, so was the [pattern of speech. Rebekah thought back but couldn't decide on where she had heard it. It was familiar yet it escaped her.

Riddle jumped around the corner and wearily held his wand by his side. Rebekah moved and saw the outline of a large boy and a very large box by the door of a small closet.

" 'Evening, Rubeus," Riddle sharply raised his voice.

The boy stood up and shut the door, placing his back against it. Rebekah finally recognised the boy as a young, Slytherin Rubeus Hagrid. She couldn't believe it, she had always thought that he had been in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"

"It's all over," Riddle faked sympathy before dropping it. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"What d'yeh —"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —"

"It never killed no one!" Young Hagrid raised his voice a little as his eyes flickered back to the door, rustling, clicking and overall unnatural sounds echoed.

"Come on, Rubeus," Riddle tried to coax him to open the door, taking a step closer "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered. . . ."

"It wasn't him! He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside," Riddle drew his arm up and lit the corridor with a spell.

Rebekah screamed and shrieked as the door opened and a huge spider came out of the closet. It scurried through Rebekah's form. Her unheard shrieks helped as she dusted and patted her clothes, making sure that she was fine. She had severe shivers and it made her cringe and curl.

Young Hagrid had to stop Riddle as the boy raised his wand and tried to flick a spell at the running creatures. Young Hagrid took the raised wand and shoved Riddle into the wall as he yelled.

Rebekah looked around as her vision of teh scene vanished, she closed her eyes as one big shiver went down her form and she found herself back in her dorm with the diary beside her. She hurried to cap the fountain pen when she realised it was open and on her clean bedding.

Now, she had a lot to think about.

The Easter holidays came and the Second years had to choose what subjects they wanted for their Third year. Rebekah just couldn't choose, so she and Hermione had chosen all the subjects. Somehow Rebekah didn't doubt that they would be allowed to choose them all, it was just the matter of how they would go to each class. There wasn't enough time in a day.

For almost four months, there were no signs of the Basilisk. The students and staff calmed down and everyone was happy, until Snape gave out large amounts of essays to do over the holidays.

Rebekah had learnt more about Riddle than she had ever thought she would have. It was refreshing to see the to-be Voldemort in a different light. She had a habit of writing in the diary when she had time to spare.

She sat in the Library alone and left her stuff at the table in the corner. She had noticed a flash of red from behind her but took no notice, it was only a Weasley getting a book. Rebekah spent a few minutes looking for the needed book for her Magic of History essay.

"Who. Took. My. Book?" Rebekah said slowly as she glared around, finding herself alone. She sucked her teeth and smiled angrily. "We'll see how this ends."

"Put your scarf on or you'll get ill, Rebekah!" Daphne shouted at the Witch as the group trotted up the stairs of the Slytherin stands. "Come on. How can I convince you?"

"You can't!" Rebekah turned around as she walked backwards, carefully keeping an eye behind her. "Come on before the older years take the good seats."

"Why do we have to watch?" Pansy complained, along with Blaise.

"Why not? You can leave but I'm staying," Rebekah said as she watched the Gryffindor team walk onto the pitch. "I wanna see how their Seekers fare. I'm competent but I want to know how they play."

"Uh, fine," Pansy shrugged.

"Oh, wait," Daphne said as she shuffled through her pocket. "I need to give this to Granger, I'll be back soon. I think she's in the Library. I won't be long."

They waved their farewells but Daphne would be back soon. The whole school was waiting for Madam Hooch to start the match but McGonagall was speaking to her. Madam Hooch mounted her broom and flew straight to the Slytherin stands, stopping just before Rebekah.

"This match has been cancelled," McGonagall shouted through the purple megaphone. Fear welled in Rebekah. Nothing stopped Quidditch unless it was very serious. The look on Madam Hooch's face confirmed it.

"Miss Potter, you'd best make your way to McGonagall and quickly," She said, hovering on her broom as fear and pity was evident in the Witch's yellow eyes. "Best mount your broom, it will be quicker."

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Rebekah nodded grimly and was thankful she wore trousers as she jumped over the stand barriers to the shock of her friends. Her broom unshrunk and she mounted it mid-fall, quickly zooming to the castle where she saw Snape stand outside of the entrance.

He jutted his head to follow him, swiftly walking to the infirmary.

Rebekah froze, her vision became unfocused as tears welled up and her chest became tight. Her mouth went dry at the sight of them and her anger multiplied.

There were three more victims and two of them were her friends.

Hermione laid motionless in her bed, her hand still around a no longer there handle in front of her face.

Daphne's face was in pure shock as her eyebrows were drawn high into her hairline and she had scrunched her shoulder together.

"All three were found by the Library,"

"Daphne said that she needed to give Hermione something she had borrowed, that's why she wasn't at the stands with us,"

Snape hummed and tsked, crossing his arms across his chest as he watched the young Witch hold her tears back. He had seen this anger too often in his House, in himself. He knew she would be the one to try and stop these attacks. Trouble followed Rebekah Potter like a lost puppy.

He escorted her back to the common room and read from the parchment the new rules. After that, he observed her calling her remaining friends and pulling them into her room. He didn't need to worry, the group were a resourceful lot and Snape would find out soon enough.

Rebekah carted them into her room and placed silencing wards against the walls.

"What's wrong?"

"Daphne has been petrified," Rebekah said and sat on a loveseat that appeared. "The thing isn't just targeting MuggleBorns anymore."

Pansy huffed angrily as Blaise clenched his hand. Everyone looked angry and yet terrified, showing their true age instead of their potential. They all were only children and they knew more about the creature than the adults did. They couldn't really tell them, they wouldn't be believed.

"Does Draco know?" Theodore asked. "He wasn't on good terms when we discussed the possibilities."

Rebekah shook her head and looked at Draco, his clear eyes foggy with confusion. "I believe the creature is a Basilisk."

"How can it be a Basilisk?"

"Parselmouth," Rebekah pointed to herself. "I traced my lineage back to Salazar Slytherin but I'm not the one attacking everyone. Slytherin's 'monster' would, logically, be a snake because that means only they can control it."

"How did you trace yourself to Slytherin?"

"In the last few hundred years, there have been almost no known Parselmouths," Blaise mentioned. "The Potter line was completely PureBlood. The name has changed every dozen generations or so but it is plausible that she could be a descendent."

Rebekah scratched her neck. "Myrtle Warren is a Ghost at Hogwarts, she was killed by the creature. She had said that she heard a foreign language, and I tested Parseltongue and she confirmed it to be that."

She didn't need to tell them about the diary just yet. Daphne and Blaise were the ones she trusted with the information but she had to be wary with everyone else. If they needed to know, she would tell them.

"If you didn't open the Chamber, who did?"

"That's what I don't know."