Within the course of a few days, Hogwarts descended into madness.

Headmaster Dippet of course believed me, the good girl and bright Ravenclaw witch, the girl on Tom Riddle's arm and the one with all the dead family.

But the rest of the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry did not. Indeed, his fight with Tom in Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed to have set the whole school against him, and the circumstances surrounding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets most certainly did not help!

I stayed with him, helping repel jinxes in the corridors and thrown objects, although there was only so far that could go.

Tom was not content to let the mob do its justice at Hogwarts. He decided that he had to be in the front lines, creating a club to find and fight the monster that had attacked our beloved school. The Knights of Walpurgis, he called it. Initially made of his gang of pureblood Slytherin boys, the kind that normally looked down on students like him, it expanded to half the school, or so it seemed.

It wouldn't be until the end of the week that Caspian and I both had a free period at the same time to go to the library and try to find information about Slytherin's monster.

"Ignore them," I muttered as we passed a group of whispering Gryffindors who glared at Caspian and tightened their grips on their wands as they passed. "They're idiots—you and I both know that you are not responsible for this."

Caspian just nodded and followed me into a more lonesome section of the library. I speak, of course, of the section on magical creatures. It had only been recently split off from the Defense texts, and the shelves were quite empty in anticipation of more reading materials and scholarship to come. The book selection was quite sparse, with more than half having been written in the last decade by Mr. Newt Scamander.

But that was no matter—it would make it easier to search through Hogwarts' records of such creatures.

"What are we looking for, again?" Caspian asked as I set a stack of books in front of him.

"Any magical creatures related to snakes—we can start there and figure out what might have Petrified Marjorie Jorkins," I explained. "We know that they have to be vulnerable to Parseltongue. They likely have to be able to go through the pipes."

Caspian wrinkled his nose. "Is that what the source of that awful stench was?"

"Yes, I nearly walked in the leaked sewage earlier when I found the two of you." I opened my book. "Well, these books won't read themselves."

Thus, we got to work—and it was. . . Nice. I hadn't expected to feel so comfortable with him. And yet, I was perfectly at-ease with him, reading textbooks as the rain fell outside, and thunder echoed through the high ceilings of the castle.

One could almost forget that we were searching for the information that would save our lives and our school. One could forget the urgency, or the strangeness surrounding Caspian del Rey. I knew then that there was a familiarity to this, an undeniable sense of deja vu. If only I'd known then where it had come from.

"It could be a Maledictus," Caspian said as he pointed at an illustrated volume of one of Scamander's textbooks. It was a painting of a woman transforming into a snake. "A Maledictus is technically a witch—you can turn people to stone, can't you?"

I shrugged. "Hypothetically—I wouldn't have the foggiest idea which spell to use, that level of Transfiguration is a bit above my level, and I would never do such a thing, but—"

Then it hit me. What he had said.

"What, like you aren't a wizard?" I tried to play it off as a joke. "You would also be capable of such things."

"I think we both know that I am not much of a wizard," Caspian said, a strange gleam in his eyes. "I really only know a few tricks from my tutor."

"I thought you attended Beauxbatons?" I flipped through the pages.

"Susana."

I could feel his eyes on me, even if I refused to lift my own from the page.

"It doesn't matter," I finally said, just to break that awful silence. "I think a Maledictus could work, although there's the problem of the lifespan—but I think a Basilisk might make more sense."

"A Basilisk?"

He leaned over the table as I turned the book towards him.

"A snake made from a chicken's egg hatched under a toad," I explained. "It grows into a giant snake with the ability to kill with a single glare—if looked on directly. If it's looked upon indirectly, through a window or in one's reflection, it causes Petrification."

"The sewage water flooded the hall." The realization dawned on Caspian, you could see the light in his eyes. "And it's a snake—it could easily be controlled by Parselmouths, no?"

"And we have no idea as to the natural lifespans," I said.

I then closed the book and stashed it in my schoolbag. "We need to take this to one of the teachers—"

"What do the teachers need?"

His voice sent chills down my spine—I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Tom, I didn't know you had a study hall at this hour." I managed to smile—there was something strange about him now, something I'd realized ever since the duel in the first day of Defense.

"Professor Slughorn let out our class early." He used his wand to pull a chair out for himself, right beside me. He didn't move his hand from my shoulder—in fact, he snaked his arm around both my shoulders, his cold white hand running down my upper arm. "What were you going to take to the teachers?"

I exchanged a look from Caspian—we both agreed, Tom was not to be trusted with the truth.

"There was a mistake in one of these books," Caspian said, finally breaking our shared gaze. "Several misspellings—that would be a rather poor example for some of the younger students."

"Would it now?" Tom was smiling, but there was no humor to it. "You two must have been studying quite closely, to notice such errors."

"We're both Ravenclaws," I pointed out as I reached up to his hand, trying to pry him off of me, slightly. There was a time, not that long ago, when I might have wanted him to do this. But not now and not like this. "We love to learn—of course we'd notice such details."

"I see." Tom's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you've learned at Beauxbatons, del Rey—but it is unbecoming to spend so much time with a young woman who is already answered for."

"I do not like what you are implying, Tom Riddle." He glanced at me. "I would never—and it is Susan's choice, who she spends her time with."

"Is it now?" His eyes were on me now, and I thought I saw a flicker of red there. I frowned, and finally pried myself free from his vise-like grip.

"It is—and I will not be bullied by the likes of you," I said, the realizations finally dawning on me. "I am not answered for, especially not by the likes of you."

"Are you, now?" He raised an eyebrow. "Your reputation would be ruined—you have spent so long on my arm, one would wonder if you knew how to stand on your own. You will not disobey me—"

I stood. "I shall do as I please, and I will not bow before any man."

That's when the memory, of a diadem on my forehead, the coronation, the feeling of power wielded with righteousness, it all came back.

I was not Susan Pevensie, the grieving witch, the girl beaten own by the war and by tragedy.

I had been Queen Susan the Gentle.

I had ruled an empire beyond Tom Riddle's wildest dreams.

He had played on my weaknesses, starting when we first left the wardrobe. He had planted fear and doubt into my mind, like the snake in had convinced me away from Narnia, from my kingdom. He had coaxed those secrets out of me, used them against me.

No longer, I decided in that moment.

I knew who I was now—and I knew who Caspian was.

The king we had helped plant on our throne.

The boy I had loved more than anyone else, even Tom.

I'm sorry for denying it, Aslan. And I am sorry to not recognize you and the truth so soon, friend.

"We're done, Tom," I said. "I don't care what rumors you spread about my reputation. I'm not yours. I don't belong to anyone."

I then grabbed my schoolbag. "Come on, Caspian—we need to go."

"You will regret this," Tom hissed, red glinting in his eyes again. "I'm giving you one more chance—"

"Leave it," I advised. "I don't think I will."